When he arrives, Jason will find Yelena leaning one arm against the counter of the food truck, chin propped in one hand as she watches the man inside the truck go to work on all the food she ordered. She knows how boys eat, and she is no shy eater, either. It’s a lot of food, and definitely enough to share.
She grins when she hears him approach and turns her head slowly to look over at him. “I got us a bunch of tacos, loaded nachos, empanadas, and some sopapillas.” It seemed like a good feast to her anyway.
She's lucky there's food involved. Well, he would have come anyways, but still. He parks his bike nearby and heads to her location, and he can already smell the food, his stomach growling. It's been a long few nights.
"Guess this means I'll have to forgive you for being such a jerk, huh?" He's already gunning for the nachos, wanting to pick at them. "This your second serving?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes, I hang out on rooftops or go to the bar. Depends on my mood," she says with a shrug as she bites into her empanada.
As she finishes off that bite, she says, "Your city is like New York's seedier cousin, did you know this?" It's not a real question. He lives here, she can't see how anyone could miss it.
"Knew there was a reason I liked you." Cause he does the same exact thing. Right now he's chowing down on some nachos though, and an empanada is next. "Could use some brews though, for fucking sure."
Jason raises an eyebrow, snorting at her comment. "Hey man, fuck you." But yeah, okay. "I mean, you're right but still. Only Gothamers can talk shit about Gotham."
"More than one, I hope," she says with a cheeky grin. She grabs a nacho and shoves it in her mouth. There is nothing remotely elegant about this, or her, and she's pretty sure he's the last person on the planet to care about that.
"I'm Russian, I judge all of your American cities by birthright," what that actually means is anyone's guess, half the time Yelena just says words and hopes they come out cohesively enough to make a sentence. "Is there tourism here at all? Or is it just all crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos?"
"Maybe two," he says with a cheeky grin right back. He's relieved that she's not elegant. Nothing about elegant is meant for him.
"Oh, right. We all fucking suck to you, huh." Hey, she makes sense to him. Maybe that's why they work. "Mostly just crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos, but people love to come check it out. I'm thinkin' about trying to start a Red Hood day."
She laughs, “Yes, see!” she spreads her hands and gestures vaguely in his direction. “I knew it.”
“Is it not natural for Americans to also hate Russia? I feel tensions are always there on both sides,” maybe not in individual relationships between people, but the overall? The country to country relations? Yeaahhh.
She squints a little and cocks her head to the side. “What would this day mean- will not be a bank holiday? Will you run through the streets in chaos?”
"Yeah, two is like a fucking miracle around here." And she puts up with him too, so there's that.
"Doesn't everyone hate the Russians?" He says with a smirk, snagging a taco to take a big bite of it. "I'll run through the streets in chaos and chili dogs will be free."
"Yeah, you seem like the type who would be." Of course she'd take it as a compliment.
"Eh." Jason shrugs, eating another taco. They're gonna end up finishing this feast pretty quick the way they're going. "I mean, that's all we really need right? Free food for all. Peace on earth, man."
“As if you aren’t also?” There is nothing very, shall we say, ‘mainstream’ about this boy. Not that she’s complaining.
She snorts at that, “If only it were so simple, huh?” She knows people have their notions, their goals for their cities, their countries, the world, but… Golden ideals are far from the dripping red and inky black life she grew up in. She can’t relate.
"I guess so, sure. Nothing wrong with that." Not always by choice either, but this is the way things are. He's gotten better at accepting shit about himself lately.
"If only. Then I wouldn't have to be out here every fucking night." he probably would be anyway though, because this is his life. Always has been in some shape or form. He can't relate to golden ideals either. Everything is so far from it that all he can do is joke. He's assuming she's smart enough to know that.
She nods a little and hums a soft, thoughtful note. “We do what we have to,” she gets it. She was made into a weapon, but she’s learned ways to use those skills to do good things. Or at least, she’s trying. It’s a process, and not exactly an easy one.
“My job is not the same as yours,” she says simply with a shrug.
Which is a really convenient segue into why she’s really in town anyway. “I’m trying to find someone. Her name is Tatiana Petrova, I think she might be a hired hand somewhere in your city. For who, I’m not sure, but maybe you have seen her—” she shows him a picture of a woman on her phone.
“Or her call sign somewhere,” she flips to another picture in her camera, an hourglass shape inside a circle. The sign most Widows leave if they leave one at all. Tatiana was always a bit of a boaster that way, Yelena can only hope that hasn’t changed under Dreykov’s chemical subjugation.
"Never said it was, but I'm sure you can still find shit to do." Idle hands and all that. Yelena doesn't seem like the layabout type as far as Jason knows. People like them are always finding things to do.
It's kind of a relief when she does bring something up. Not that he was about to judge her or anything. It's easy for him to shift back into work mode. "Haven't seen her, but it depends on who she's working for." He takes her phone to get a better look. "I've seen this sign before, though. Couple clubs downtown."
Yelena has never stayed idle for long, it's not in her blood. Moving is the only thing that has ever really kept her alive, and if she stops... Well, she just thinks it's best no one finds out what happens if she ever does.
"Which ones? You can get us in, yes?" She knows Gotham plays on its own set of rules, and she'd rather know what she's dealing with before she starts breaking them.
As promised, Yelena is waiting in the hotel room for her. She will know the exact moment that Kate arrives, she's sure of it, because there is really nothing subtle about the archer at all. That's okay, Yelena has enough subtlety in her work life, she could do with obvious, flat-facts in her personal life.
It is still strange to think she has one of those. A personal life. A social life of some sort, even. Very small and ultra-contained, and she still hasn't really moved outside of her general circle of former Widows and her fake parents– she's still a little bitter about that whole thing, actually– but something is better than nothing, and at least when they get together now it's not only because of a mission. Sometimes, it's a mission and it's family night.
Either way... she waits, and she's glad that Kate will never have evidence of the stupid way she keeps looking at her phone every time the next text is from her.
It's true, subtlety has never been in Kate's bag of tricks. She wouldn't even really waste her time trying to claim otherwise, which was really saying something, because sometimes making claims with little to no evidence counted as one of her hobbies.
She would, for instance, claim to be generally a cool person, even though she definitely provided evidence to the opposite on the walk over, if anyone had been paying attention. This is a whole new level of 'holy shit is this really my life' and, even though Kate's a little more than reasonably sure of herself, probably, that's still a lot of holy shit to contend with.
Thank goodness for New York, talking to yourself a little on the sidewalk doesn't even register to most people. She manages to knock off the combination pep-talk-excited-ramble-no-way-is-this-a-trap-right-no-mantra in the hotel lobby, at least. Getting kicked out in the LOBBY would be the most mortifying, she would be forced to lay down and die somewhere, probably. The rambling is absolutely what's going to give her away in the hallway, though. There's no way that's not going to be audible for at least a minute before Kate manages to shut herself up again and knock.
She hears a voice in the hallway following just a little bit after the very faint 'ding!' from the elevator at the other end of the hall. It's a moment or two after that before she can distinctly tell it's Kate's voice.
She's talking to herself, and even though Yelena can't make out all of it, she catches enough bits and pieces to realize she's trying to be her own hype man.
So, when that knock finally comes, Yelena is already on her feet and wandering over to answer, open bottle of vodka in one hand as she swings the door wide. "Hi..." she grins and steps aside to let her guest inside. It's a decent room, nothing overly fancy but the bed is big, the pillows are fluffy, and- well, there's the vodka in her hand.
Oh, right. That grin. Why would she care at all if it were indeed a trap when that face is pointing that grin at her?
"Hi." If there had been anything particularly memorable about this hotel room, aside from the occupant, it would not have registered to Kate anyways. She looks around just enough to follow Yelena in without walking in to anything or trip. She doesn't think she's going to end up regretting her priorities on where to keep her gaze - the alcohol might end up a different story, but oh well. "Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you. Should I have actually offered to bring something? I'm sorry."
There is something always just this side of high-energy-nerves that follow Kate, an almost electric feeling in the air when she’s in the room. She feels like… that moment when a storm is building, and it’s past the truly calm part already, but hasn’t quite started really ramping up. Just this burst of something frenetic that needs… release.
“No, this is not one of your mother’s fancy socialite parties, we are just…” she trails off, a perfect pause for effect even if it was really only because she’s not sure what the right word for what they are even is… “…friends…? Having drinks and maybe watching a movie…?” Her words hang in the air, awaiting their answers, while she tries to judge Kate’s reactions to all those phrases, and the suggestions that came with them.
Yelena is a multitasker, though, and she moves to flop back onto the bed once again. She’s in comfortable clothes, an old t-shirt that’s too big on her and a pair of pajama pants that rest low on her hips, socked feet swallowed by the bell flare of the pants. Practical enough to fight in, but far more casual than the sort of things Kate usually sees her wear.
“Come join me, Kate Bishop,” Yelena calls from the bed, feet pulled up toward her so her knees are basically a bridge, arm outstretched toward the other girl, fingers flexing. “I am so sad and alone in this white cloud.” Which to her credit, is exactly what the bed looks like— all white, white mattress, white sheet, white duvet. “It’s either a cloud or a marshmallow, whichever one you like the idea of best.”
No, this was about a million times better than any of those fancy parties, already. There was that sense of sort of tight rope walking that she always had around Yelena, that sensation of not being able to see the ground but just... not being worried about it.
"Are we friends?" It's probably not an incorrect word, but it doesn't feel like the exact right fit either. There's no negative reaction to it, though - it matters, sure, but for now she's happy to call whatever this is whatever Yelena wants to. "Drinks and a movie sounds fantastic."
Thank goodness Kate had resisted the urge to get fancy herself. She's not dressed quite as comfy as Yelena is, but at least she's also casual in jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie. That had almost not been the case at all.
"Yeah, you look very sad and alone right now." That gets a little laugh, and a little bit of staring, before Kate actually follows directions, kicking off her sneakers and climbing onto the bed. Had to try and burn that image into her mind first. "I think cloud is probably more fitting. Less... sticky."
“I don’t know,” she answers almost immediately, words out of her mouth like the fire of a shotgun, “I’ve never had friends before… I don’t know what it looks like.” Yelena’s honesty is always blunt and brusque like this, no room to question if she means it in another way because she’s just direct right out of the gate.
She thinks maybe it is a good word, if not the perfect one, for whatever it is she may have with Kate. And Kate doesn’t seem to be against the idea, either, which feels… really good, actually. Or maybe it’s just the vodka making her feel so… is it giddy? She isn’t sure. This night is very strange already.
If she notices the staring, she doesn’t act like it bothers her at all. But the second Kate is settled, she turns on her side, head propped in her hand. “Hiiii,” she greets her again, drawing the word out a bit this time. “It can be a cloud, then.” She’s not the least bit subtle with the sweep of her eyes over her, something very appreciative and just a little hungry settles in her gaze.
“You pick the movie,” she says abruptly, twisting to grab the remote from the bedside table which she hands to her. Yelena really doesn’t care what is on in the background, because she’s far more interested in her present company, but she’s very good at playing roles and this doesn’t even feel like an act.
Shit. Right. It takes a second before Kate manages to put her best effort into not looking terribly sad at that statement. "I don't think that's going to be the case for you for very long. Anyways, it looks pretty much like this, yeah. There's not always a game of gay chicken involved."
God - already back at that sensation of whiplash that still keeps featuring in every conversation she has with Yelena. That look - goodbye, previous train of thought, it was nice knowing you, sorry not sorry you ended up just vanishing in a poof of smoke there. Does that mean Kate gets to look at her like that now, does that count as permission? Dear god, that might kill her anyways. Right, they're talking.
"I - okay, but I'm gonna need more info. What kind of movies do you like? And how much of that have you had to drink already?"
"But that's my favorite part," she says, a pout both in her voice and on her face.
She squints into the silence that Kate lets build and build and... "Did you forget how to speak? Did I break you? I mean, at least you're not a robot and unaware of it- I heard that happens sometimes. Can you imagine?"
"Oh, I don't know. It was full when I started-" at least a third of the bottle seems to have disappeared since then. "I'll watch anything. Whatever you want." Yelena smooths her hand up Kate's thigh, leaning close to whisper in her ear, "I'm not going to be paying attention to the tv anyway... Kate Bishop."
Did she forgot how to speak? No, Kate would probably have to change her name and at least half of her identity if that happened. Did she use up about the absolute last of her verbal self control on not blurting out 'oh my god, she just checked me out. we're in a BED in a hotel room and she just checked me out,' yes, yes she did.
"Might be a little bit broken, yeah. You have a very brain-breaking effect." She does the hand gesture for a little, and then tosses the remote somewhere off the side of the bed. Or the cloud. "Not picking a movie. I think I would literally have to be insane to spend any time looking at the tv when you're right here -" another gesture "- seriously, have you seen you? And you're doing the looking and the touching and the whispering which is definitely not legal, by the way, forget the movie. Come here. Can I kiss you?"
"Do I?" she laughs, it's a soft thing, a little rough at the edges. "How so?" she asks, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at her. "Be detailed..." she winks.
She laughs again, it's a little bit of a huskier sound this time, "It's not to watch, it's so there's a little bit of a noise buffer between us and the neighbors..."
"I was beginning to think you were never going to try," she grins and leans in lightly brushing her lips against Kate's. Only that soft, little tease, and then she stops, smiling.
That's just not going to cut it - and replies to any of those questions or statements will have to wait. Teasing would not be the right word to describe the kiss Kate tugs her back in for, shifting to cup Yelena's face in her hands, although she does still try her best not to push.
Well. Maybe not exactly her best. Hopefully it doesn't come across as pushy to take her time and be thorough, or to linger and really make sure it's committed to memory.
The noise buffer thing is a good idea, oops, but Kate is far from interested in letting go to retrieve the remote again right this minute, so she's just going to skip that. "'Be detailed.' You know exactly what you're doing, and you know it's working, too."
Yelena missed out on a lot of things, growing up the way she did. Who is she to know what the hell a normal friendship, or relationship, or friends-with-benefits-ship this thing with Kate is actually looks like, anyway?
Pushy isn't really going to hurt anything she's doing right now. She hums softly into the archer's mouth, her fingers looping gently around one wrist. Not to stop her, Yelena doesn't mind her fingers curling against her cheek. Only to keep some point of contact with her.
"As long as it is working..." she laughs softly against Kate's mouth. "Please... I'll be good if you tell me..." she slides her fingers up to tangle in her hair.
Maybe she just likes listening to Kate ramble. It's not her fault she's cute when she gets on a rant.
"You'll be good - god. What would you do if I don't tell you, then?" She doesn't go all silent and staring again, but her imagination does run off with that sentence a little bit. It's really very easy to picture Yelena in a halo, and Kate thinks she could probably make an argument for that mental image alone to count as a miracle.
And if that's not how miracles work, it should be.
"Okay. Okay, sure, whatever you want. I'll tell you anything you want. Remind me what you had asked, though?" It's just a shame she can't keep kissing Yelena as much, while she's talking, but Kate can make it work - she'll use kisses as punctuation, or thoughtful pauses, or whatever else she can come up with.
"You said I have a brain-breaking effect on you," she trails her fingers through her hair, twisting the ends between her fingers gently. "I want to know all the details of that..."
She smiles softly up at her. "I like you from this angle, we should do this more often."
"Oh, there's no way it's just on me. I mean, you've looked in a mirror, right? I know you've got all those spy skills so you're obviously totally capable of not being looked at when you don't want to be even though it doesn't make any logical sense to me that everyone in a room isn't constantly looking at you if you're there too. There's no way that anyone who does get to catch a glimpse of you doesn't find themselves unable to think for a minute, is the main point. And if you talk? No one stands a chance. No way. I do not understand how you make my name sound like that. That whisper earlier? Seriously, there's no way that's legal. Fighting dirty, that move. Which, y'know. Not complaining. So not complaining. If I had any ability to think straight already, poof, gone, instantly." Not quite all the details, yet, but it's a start - complete with a little fake explosion noise from Kate at the end, in case it wasn't properly illustrated what it seemed like in her head.
And then a very big soft smile in response to that. "Hey, any time. You can see me from whatever angle you want whenever you want."
Oh, there she goes. It’s fascinating the way the words just keep going. Even when it seems like she might stop, she doesn’t. Her words continue to roll right out of her mouth at a pace so quick she can barely keep up with it herself. “What is it about my voice…? It’s the accent, yes? People in America, they love them, don’t they…?”
“I promise I have not yet done a single illegal thing with you tonight.” she lets a low chuckle rumble through her chest. “Not yet, at least.” She tilts her head back with the laugh that bubbles up with that thought.
Yelena pouts up at her, “Oh, you do not know how dangerous an invitation like that is, you know…”
"It's - well, I have no idea what it is. The accent's part of it, yeah, but it's not... there's something else you're doing that I can't figure out cause the tracksuit guys did the full name thing sometimes too and it was just weird." Thankfully weird, the idea of that is enough to prompt a full body grimace.
Oh, look at that. Maybe that head tilt wasn't meant as an invitation, but it certainly looks like one. Kate dips her head and nuzzles into Yelena's neck, pressing a few - okay, more than a few - slow kisses there.
"Yeah, don't care." Hopefully this is audible, cause she isn't really lifting her head to speak. "You want it in writing? Engraved? I can do that."
"Well, you're calling them the tracksuit guys, milochka," her fingers curl against the curve of Kate's cheek. "if they were not weird, I think they are failing." she laughs softly.
Maybe it wasn't intentionally such an invitation, but she won't hear Yelena making a fuss, except that surprised gasp she just earned herself. Her fingers wind through Kate's hair, a soft, pleased hum in her throat. "More... more of that would be nice," she mumbles against the archer's temple, her lips pressing softly there.
"No," she says through a laugh, shifting only enough to let Kate get more comfortable. "no evidence..." she almost purrs the words in Kate's ear, but then her words are a barely audible whisper which Kate probably won't understand, even if she can hear every word. "Я тоже не могу потерять тебя."
That's a valid point, but it's just not quite important enough to keep talking about. She does want to ask what that word was - if that was a pet name, holy shit, AGAIN - but it's going on the maybe-revisit-later list.
Really, anything before that surprised gasp is immediately unimportant, and there is simply no convincing Kate that her priorities are in any way wrong here. "You can have more of whatever you want."
Okay, maybe she would have no argument against it if Yelena happens to know the word simp and decided to toss it out right now, but whatever. Hardly actually an insult, and Kate didn't want to budge anyways. Right here she can trail kisses right over that work of art jawline, down to Yelena's pulse, and back again. And she's well placed to do a little whispering of her own. It's not quite as exciting or interesting sounding - "I have no idea what you just said. What's that mean?"
“Oh, that IS good to know,” she bites her lip at the swirl of thoughts that tag along with the idea.
She hums a long, softly drawn out note and shakes her head. “No… not today,” she denies her, a little pout crossing her face at the way it makes the features in Kate’s face shift, something confused and curious at once. “But I will tell you… one day.”
“Do not worry,” she smiles softly up at her. “It’s not bad… I promise.” she lets her finger slo o w ly wind a strand of dark curl around her finger. “Why can’t we just be this…? And only this…” the smile on her lips is weak and watery, barely held in place on her face before she feels all of her features crumble under the weight of—
Whatever this is. This golden, bright thing Yelena is terrified to name.
“You have to stay…” she murmurs softly, her thumb sliding gently across the high arch of Kate’s cheek. “Please… say you will stay… here, with me…
Oh - okay, so that wasn't just flirting in another language to mix it up, clearly. Okay. Kate can keep up, probably.
Maybe. Well, she'll try, at least.
Her turn to put her hand over Yelena's on her face, squeezing her fingers both in an attempt to be comforting and to keep her from pulling away as Kate shifts back, frowning and concerned herself now, just enough to see the rest of Yelena's face. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere, I don't care if you tell me, I didn't think it was anything bad. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. And I mean, if you want to roast me in Russian while we're doing this, that's fine. Not going to run me off, I'm not going anywhere. It's okay."
"No," she chokes on the word and clears her throat around the sound of it, tilting her head back to blink away what's tried to escape. "No, you don't understand..."
She squirms, a shift of discomfort not at Kate or anything she's saying, but at the situation as a whole. At not being able to run from all the things she does not want to face.
Yelena just shakes her head, no words this time, and folds her arms around the other girl's middle, and it takes a long, silent moment for her to find her voice again. "Everything good in my life gets ruined... falls apart or is taken away from me, used against me..." Her words are thick on her tongue, "I don't want you to be ruined because of me."
It takes literally biting at the inside of her cheek for Kate to stay quiet and patient when Yelena trails off. It's clear that isn't actually the end of her thought, and Kate doesn't want to interrupt or influence whatever clearly heavy thoughts Yelena's having right now or any decision she's making about sharing them.
Likewise, she does her best not to move again until Yelena does, but that's pretty immediate once she indicates she's still okay with being touched. Maybe Kate should still ask, but she can't help it, almost immediately wrapping her arms around Yelena's shoulders in turn and tugging her in tight. Thinking of what to say takes another minute, this is more than a bit more serious then any comfort Kate has practice giving, and her go to was always distraction. "Okay. Okay. I don't really know how to make you feel better about that or less worried immediately, but I won't go anywhere till you want me to, okay. I mean I'll have to go feed and walk Lucky tomorrow, but you can come with me, obviously. And whatever happened before, whatever got ruined? There's no way that was because of you. It wasn't your fault. No way."
The way she just...melts around Yelena the second she knows it's okay to touch her makes Yelena sink deeper against her. She doesn't know why this is happening, it is not like her, not usually. It's been a while since she just could not contain everything that she keeps locked down inside her mind at all times.
"I'm sorry-" she mumbles softly against the wall of the girl holding her. "I- I do not know what is wrong with me," she sniffs softly and presses her cheek against Kate's shoulder, and tries to calm her breathing.
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you, and you don't need to apologize for this." That, thankfully, was very easy to answer. Kate even breaks out her best firm-completely-sure voice, which might need a little work, but she is completely sure about this. Then she gives Yelena a squeeze and kisses the top of her head, both because it feels right and just in case that tone tipped things away from being comforting.
"Things get heavy, it's totally normal. You can go ahead and have a good cry, too, you don't have to stop yourself. It's okay. Better out than in might mostly be used about upset stomachs, but as a saying it definitely applies here too."
"I don't want to have one, I don't like crying!" she says in a huffy tone, but there's the tiniest edge of a laugh hidden in it, too. Definitely better than crying.
Still, she doesn't really... move away from the grip Kate still has on her. She's comfortable there, clinging to her like maybe she's the only lifeline she's got at the moment. She does ease Kate back down to the mattress with her, keeping her in place with the way she curls against her.
She settles her head against Kate's shoulder and just...stays there like that for a while. Maybe if she just lays here like this for long enough, all the bad thoughts will just go away.
Or Kate will get bored and start talking. She's not against either of these things, if she's completely honest.
"That's totally fair, too! It's up to you. Just consider it a standing offer for a shoulder to cry on, whenever." That tiny hint of a laugh feels like a win.
Even more of a win is that Yelena doesn't go anywhere, either, that they just end up laying there all snug - and that Kate managed not to say anything that made things worse while she was trying to be comforting.
Although she guesses there is still time for that. Best not to jinx it. It's not boredom that gets her rambling again, truthfully, the cuddling is enough to have her very much content, but the slightly pathological need to fill any medium to long silence persists. "I cried a couple weeks ago cause I dropped a pizza. That probably does imply there's something wrong with me, huh? I'm pretty sure Lucky shed a tear too. You can picture that, if you need to feel better about this. We were in the middle of the sidewalk and the pizza was just completely upside down on the ground and I was still holding the box and all."
She huffs a soft sound that forgot it was meant to be a laugh somewhere on its journey out of her mouth. "You are a ridiculous human being," she mumbles quietly.
"Mmm," she nudges her nose into the hollow of Kate's neck and presses closer, letting her lips brush lightly against the touch-sensitive skin there. "why do you put up with me, hm?"
That's okay, they can count it. Any not-sad sound feels like a good sign. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
Please pardon the shiver that Kate can't actually manage to suppress at all once Yelena starts teasing her again. The sensation of that little touch deserves a cooler reaction but alas, all her body comes up with is that shiver and a dumb expression on her face. "Me, putting up with you? You know you have that completely backwards, right? There's no putting up with from my end, I am fully aware I'm lucky you want to spend any time with me at all." Let alone this kind of time.
“No…no, you…milochka…” she croons softly, a faint smile on her lips. “Darling… I am the lucky one.” She says with a soft amused huff. “I don’t- I don’t deserve you, but god, I love you, Kate Bishop…”
She reaches up to cup her cheek in her hand. “And I am so terrified of that.”
Oh. That might take the cake on surprising things that happened tonight - who would've thought the emotional upset a few minutes ago would be so quickly beaten?
Actually, that probably should have been expected. Kate had been shaking her head and, admittedly, already thinking about how to argue - in particular with that comment about not deserving this - and then, bam, L bomb, dropped. "You shouldn't - that's -"
Good god, finish a sentence. "Are you sure?"
Hell. Finish a better sentence. "You shouldn't think you don't deserve this. You deserve the world. Everything. Anything you want."
She laughs and it’s a bright and brittle sound. “I am unsure of everything, except this…” she smiles, soft and gentle, up at her.
“And this is part of the reason why…” she murmurs softly, letting her fingertips stroke lightly against her cheek. “Because I know you believe that. You really do, and I think that’s really beautiful. You can see the way my hands are stained forever, and somehow…you aren’t scared of me…”
It’s a heavy one, her past, and she knows it asks so much of people just for knowing her truths. Being with her, knowing her, it is a risk all it’s own.
"You know, I think you're probably one of the smartest people I have ever met. I mean, you're just regularly taking in so much more info from everything around you than most of the population and then sifting through it for anything useful or anything that might become useful. I can't even imagine how busy it gets up there." Kate cups the back of Yelena's head, tugging her in to press a kiss to her forehead.
"Which just makes it absolutely bonkers to me that this is what your brain has picked to be just plain wrong about. Scared of you? When I was literally just a pain in your ass, you were protecting me, and you think I should be scared of you? That just doesn't make any sense, sweetheart, I'm sorry. And as for these hands... no, I can't agree with that either. Look how gentle they are." She reaches out and cradles Yelena's free hand in between hers, tracing her fingertips over it. "Every beyond shitty thing you've been through and now here we are and they're gentle. Seems like a way more important description to me."
She smiles again, small and watery, crowding closer into the other girls space when she presses their foreheads together. “Hmm… it can be very loud sometimes, yes…” Noiseless static, most of the time.
“Call me that more, maybe? I like that…” has she ever been anyone’s sweetheart? Maybe before the Red Room, but those memories are mostly blurry.
She takes in a slow, deep breath, “You are going to make me cry, stop it.” She murmurs mostly to herself, swiping one hand under each eye.
It's really a shame for that smile to be small. Kate shifts forward just enough to kiss it, in the hopes that might make it grow a little. And also just because she can't resist, too, to be fair.
"If you like it, I will absolutely call you that more, sweetheart." Is it too much to use it again immediately? Oh, well. "I'm not trying to make you cry. If you're going to talk badly about yourself, though, I gotta tell you the truth."
Mm, that's more than a success - Kate's plan succeeded and then she got a second, deeper kiss or of it, too.
And then she gets Yelena all tucked into her again, which simultaneously is so relaxing and also gives her goosebumps and makes her heart race. The idea that she's not the lucky one here is just absurd. "We don't need to think about that. Far as I'm concerned you can stay right there for like forever."
“Oh yeah?” she mumbles against her shoulder, her lips brushing softly there, teeth grazing lightly, just enough to remind her she could bite her, if she wanted- she might really want to, but only with permission. It’s not everyone’s thing, and Yelena is so used to being whatever someone else wants of her.
She kisses a soft trail up the side of her neck, nipping light and playful at her ear. “Is that what you want? Me… right here…? Forever?” her voice drops into softer and lower whispers with every pause between her words until it’s barely audible on the last one.
Is Kate one of the ASMR tingle people? Maybe this could be even more fun than Yelena knows~
"God, you really love really love the teasing, don't you?" She would have permission - truthfully, Yelena's for about full permission to at least try whatever she wants, anything less than pleasant could be addressed right after, but it simply hasn't occurred to Kate to state that out loud as a fact.
"Um -" Actual ASMR, probably not. Yelena whispering in her ear, and using her teeth just a little, and all those light kisses? Yeah, that's causing some tingling. "Well - maybe not forever, cause I wouldn't actually really get to LOOK at you then, but..."
“Do you not like it?” she nuzzles closer into her neck, “I can stop… if you want me to…” she really hopes she doesn’t want her to stop. She will, but…she really doesn’t want to.
She chuckles lightly, a soft rumble caught in her chest, “I like you like this,” she laughs again, nipping lightly at Kate’s shoulder. “So… re-act-ive…” she over-pronounces each syllable, making sure to hit her accent harder just for that word, right into her ear.
"I like it, I like it." That reply comes so quickly, and Kate curls her fingers carefully against the back of Yelena's head, just in case saying it isn't convincing enough. "You don't need to stop."
"I can't help it. God, Yelena." That's almost a whine, but there's nothing unhappy about it.
"Oh, good, I was hoping you might say that," she grins. "A little possessive, are you?" she hums, but it's almost more of a purr in the back of her throat. "I like it..."
She lets her lips brush lightly against Kate's ear as she whispers, "You would get us caught and thrown out if we were in public right now..." But she wants to hear more of the soft little noises she can make.
"You were hoping, huh? God, that makes it better." Yelena's making sounds like that, and then talking about how Kate would be getting them kicked out of somewhere.
"We're not in public, though." Talking at any louder than a whisper just seems wrong now. "We're in your hotel room. In your bed."
Oh, that's a hilarious statement. She's still too 're-act-ive' to manage more than a quick chuckle at it before she's distracted from that and just trying to pull Yelena even closer still.
"I think that might mean you're the possessive one. I'd let you get away with a lot."
Yelena complies easily to the tug, curling somehow impossibly closer into Kate's space. "Oh, I am absolutely possessive," she laughs softly and presses a kiss into her temple, soft and lingering. She just can't get enough of her.
"Oooh, that sounds like a challenge," she chuckles softly. "Are you sure you want to make that bet, Kate Bishop?"
It's on the tip of Kate's tongue to say something along the lines of 'see? such a softie' but then Yelena's next statement makes her rethink it. Speaking of challenges... "Absolutely possessive, huh? Prove it."
And then speaking of that (surprisingly unintentional) challenge, Kate shifts just enough so Yelena can see the grin on her face and the glint in her eye, careful to not put any more distance between them than absolutely necessary. "Oh, I'm very sure. Bring it on."
She grins at that dare in her tone, her eyes wild with mischief. Then, all in one single, fluid motion, she pushes herself up and into Kate, enough momentum behind her that she pushes her into the mattress as she straddles her waist. “It’s something like this,” she murmurs softly before closing the small amount of space between them with an eager, zealous kiss.
She does eventually have to break for air, but she can’t linger far from her. Unwilling to move away at all, she kisses feather-light across her jaw and down the slope of her neck. “You might learn to regret those words next time we are out.” her voice is a little rough with her want, her hips roll in Kate’s lap while a soft little whine escapes from the back of her throat at the delicious friction it causes.
“Either that, or you are an exhibitionist in the making, which I will admit, is quite sexy of you, Kate Bishop.” She keeps her voice in that low, seductive rumble and presses a kiss just below her ear.
No, Kate's really very certain that she isn't going to end up with any regrets here. Maybe it's strange or a little asking for trouble to be that certain but, well, that's just how she rolls. Watching Yelena move already reliably prompted a "Oh damn" reaction, and now she's watching Yelena move specifically to get on top of her. That's a dream come true, regret doesn't exist and she can't imagine it springing back into existence right now.
Kate can't even find any embarrassment in her that she forgets how to speak again when Yelena moves her hips like that and whines. What was she going to say? Unimportant. She slides her hands up Yelena's thighs, curls her fingers around her hips, not guiding but wanting to. "God, do that again. Feel good?"
"What am I supposed to mind people knowing? That the sexiest woman in the world is kissing me, touching me, teasing me, almost sinking her teeth into me? Nah. That I'm super freaking easy for you? Nah, I'm super good with that."
“You are very flattering to me, but you do not need to be,” she chuckles softly. It isn’t that Yelena thinks she looks bad, that has never really been a question to her. But her personality usually drives people off long before anything else might make them stick around.
She chuckles softly at that request. “Which part? This—?” she rolls her hips in her lap again, this time her eyes on Kate the entire time to really enjoy the way her reactions flicker across her face. “Or… —?” she nips lightly at Kate’s ear and lets out another soft sound right next to her. “I can make so many pretty sounds for you, milochka…”
“You can think of nowhere in the entire world this might be a problem for you?” She smirks softly. “What about one of your mother’s parties. You think you could be quiet enough to not be obvious at the dinner table when I sli-iiii-iide my foot up your leg,” in the very real part of the world, she drags her fingers up the inside of Kate’s thigh.
my very unmatching icons compared to yours keep making me laugh
She's really not even trying to be flattering, but they're going to have to circle back around to that later. There's entirely too much other sensory information happening right now for Kate to be any type of coherent about that.
"Yeah, that," not the most effective reply to the question, but her fingers flex against Yelena's hips and she's pretty sure she stopped breathing for a second, so it was probably pretty clear. "You're making nothing but pretty sounds, sweetheart."
She's been slacking in putting in any of the effort to get those sounds, though, hasn't she? Damn. Kate turns her head, stealing a deep kiss and stretching it out as long as she can manage right now.
Okay, point. "Fine, it might be a problem there, but it wouldn't be a BAD problem. Well, it might, but it'd be good first. Maybe I could, too - who knows?" Her reaction to that touch might imply she can't, yeah, with the wanting sound it prompts and the way it - briefly, it's gonna be very briefly - pauses her plan to turn the tables.
lmao I’m so srs if you want any of these random stock picture icons, steal them 😂
“You spoil me with all these compliments,” she mutters softly, an amused lilt in her voice as she nudges at Kate’s neck, senseless nuzzling just because she’s maybe a little tipsy and it’s nice and it feels good and she smells amazing.
She almost squeaks in surprise when Kate’s lips crash into her own, and she leans further into the kiss as Kate deepens it. Yes, she would like more of this, please.
“I think you would not last five minutes,” she says with a low rumble of a laugh. “But now I want to try… get you so flustered in public,” her tone is almost melodic, a sing-song note there, “a-aaalll that antici…”
She waits. And waits…. And waits some more…. Until… Finally—
“…pation,” she breathes against the shell of her ear, skilled fingers slipping under Kate’s shirt to skim across warm, smooth skin. “Aaaall that tension keeps building… and building… but,” she is still huddled so close that she has no doubt Kate could almost feel soft moan she lets slip out. “you are denied the pleasure of the release…”
She presses a kiss under Kate’s ear and murmurs, “Are you sure you’re ready to play your best poker face with a trained spy, Kate Bishop?” her name sounds like the sigh of a prayer when she says it like that.
"Good, that's the goal." Kate thinks she's about way overdue, actually, for some spoiling, by compliment or otherwise. This is only a start.
Oh, there's going to be more of that. There's going to be a lot more of that, if Kate has her way. Part of her thinks she should stay just like this, milk getting such a glorious, constant soundtrack of the little whispers, gasps, moans in her ear. A bigger part has reached desperate to have a more active hand in causing those sounds, and that was before Yelena had started slipping her fingers under Kate's shirt.
"Not even five minutes, huh? What do I get if I last six, then?" Five minutes would be a generous estimate, even in Kate's own head. She's not going to say that, though. She wraps an arm snugly around Yelena's waist to keep her close and prevent any awkward bumping, and then props herself up to a sitting position with the other. (It's the most concentration Kate has managed since they started kissing again, and she's going to stand by those priorities - keeping Yelena straddling her was very important.) "Holy shit, I didn't think the name thing could get hotter. Keep saying it like that and I'll play anything you want."
“Then you are excelling so far,” she grins widely at her. She can’t even begin to imagine all the various ways Kate might be able to simply shower her in all of those affections. But, god, she wants to know more.
There’s an eager tension in the air between them, so thick and cloying that Yelena can almost taste it on her tongue.
That same tongue darts out against her lips a moment later. “What do you want your prize to be? Hmm…?” She lets her fingers graze lightly across the inside of Kate’s wrist- pulse points are always so sensitive. “You have something special in mind? Something you wish to try… or something you would like to see me in?” She chuckles lightly, carding her fingers through Kate’s hair.
“Well…” she draws the word out, like she’s considering something. “Not forever, of course,” she gives her a sly grin, “just enough to drive you crazy, make you need,” she brushes her lips against Kate’s neck, her words muttered into her skin now. “Make you want so much you can hardly stand it…”
She at nuzzles her more, taking in the scent of her. “But I always keep my promises, milochka…” she dips two fingers gently into the waistband of Kate’s jeans, just another in this long series of little teasing touches to emphasize her points. “It feels so much better this way,” she insists, “all that building and waiting and tension finally crashing like a wave…?” she groans softly at the thought.
"Good. You let me know if it ever drops below excelling. Can't have that."
That - is one hell of a question. There are way too many options that immediately flood her mind, and Kate isn't sure she could focus on choosing one if they were a mile apart, covered head to toe, and hadn't touched at all today - well, that's not entirely true. 'Something you would like me to see me in' has an answer with a very clear lead, but she isn't sure she's allowed to say that specific thing yet. "I... God. I need to think about it." How's she going to think about anything else?
Oh, right. Later, she isn't going to be able to think about anything else. What's actually happening right now is even more impossible not to focus on. "Just enough to do all of that, okay - so that should take like, five minutes for you. Yeah, that'll be very easy."
"I'm convinced. I promise. Drag it out as long as you want. Whatever you want. I mean I'm gonna be useless in between, but god, if this is what uselessness is like, I suddenly see the appeal. Pretty sure you've already melted my brain. You know you can touch me way more, right? Just in case. Can I touch you more?"
“I do not think that is happening any time soon,” she knows that it won’t always be like this, that it won’t always feel like this. A fact that only makes her even more determined to cling to it while it’s there. “But I will let you know,” she kisses at the hollow of Kate’s neck, and across her shoulder. “so you can take… immediate corrective action…”
She grazes her teeth across the sensitive skin of the other girl’s throat. “I want to hear your pleasure, Kate Bishop,” she gently takes her ear between her teeth— a little nibble, a smile and a kiss inside of her ear before she ghosts a soft, light breath along the shell of her ear. These are some of Yelena’s favorite things to do— because it gives people a modicum of control in everything that just keeps happening to them, and at them.
“Oh, I will make sure I unravel you first, my love,” she grins again.
She leans down to press her forehead against Kate’s, crowding closely into her personal space bubble. “I have not even begun the real challenge yet,” she chuckles softly, shaking her head.
“You can touch me any way you want,” she sweeps her fingertips across the high stroke of her cheek. “If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you. I am not made of porcelain, you can manhandle me a little. I might like it,” she almost sings the last little bit, an eager smirk on her face, curious which ways Kate might take it to heart or, even better still: act on it.
How on earth did the words 'immediate corrective action' just sound hot? There's no way that should be possible. And yet. Not that Kate is in any way complaining about it - exactly the opposite.
That next sentence, on the other hand - pleasure, and again with saying her name like that - her reaction to that is entirely predictable, sucking in a deep breath and nearly thunking her head back against the headboard. "To hear - god, Yelena. I wanna give you whatever you want." It'd be cool if Kate could claim the way she just said Yelena's name was also some intentional seductive move, but the want in her tone and the breathlessness are outside of her control.
"You haven't - what's the real challenge?" Oh, the places her imagination just went.
She might have gotten lost there again a little bit, but 'manhandle me a little, I might like it' very cleanly cuts through any other mental noise - and creates some of its' own. How does everything Yelena says have at least a handful of delicious mental images attached to it? It's almost a shame that right now she very eagerly just wants to keep Yelena on top of her like this. Save that invitation for later. For now, Kate takes the opportunity to nuzzle back into the curve of her neck, the kisses and little nips she trails over that warm skin more firm now that her self control and nerves have both ebbed, and slips her hands up the sides of Yelena's shirt, just high enough that it's nothing but bare skin under her palms and fingertips, tracing little shapes. "You're so soft."
“Oh, is that so?” she grins and skate can probably hear that in her words even if she can’t see her face for the way she’s pressed into the hollow of Kate’s neck. “I do like getting what I want…”
She chuckles softly, “the one where I work you into a frenzy discreetly in public when you can’t react,” she sighs, a soft, contented sound as Kate trails alternating love bites and soothing kisses along her neck.
A shiver strikes its way through her spine as she finally gets Kate’s hands on her, “And you taste so sweet,” she murmurs back, kissing her again, soft, but so hungry still, too.
"Yup, it is. Got a list? I'll make my way down it." Kate's half just talking now, even less thinking about what she blurts out beforehand than usual, but that would also become really true really fast. She shifts to trailing kisses along the collar line of Yelena's shirt, "You look absurdly good in comfy clothes, by the way."
Oh, no - that is another bad sign for the chances of Kate's success, having gotten so distracted now to forgot what they had just been talking about. She's going to have to figure out some way not to forget that she isn't supposed to react in the actual moment.
God, that hunger is enough to leave a girl weak in the knees. Kate's grip tightens involuntarily, instinctively trying to somehow get Yelena even closer. She can't keep the kiss soft then, she just can't, sighing against Yelena's mouth before she deepens it.
She croons softly at that promise, “I’ll have to get back to you on the list,” she admits with a soft chuckle. “I look good in anything,” she says in response to the compliment, grinning sly and wild with a quick wink, “and out of it…”
Yelena moans softly into her mouth, her fingers curling around the back of Kate’s head to pull her closer. She opens her mouth in invitation for the other girl to explore deeper if she likes.
Kate groans, imagination off again, "God, sweetheart, you're mean. You're already frying my brain here, have a little mercy."
"I'm not serious. Please don't have mercy. Of course you look good in anything, and out of anything. Unbearably good. Unreasonably good."
Oh, that's an invitation she can't do anything but take, immediately and enthusiastically, letting out an involuntary very pleased sound as soon as she gets that deeper taste of Yelena. Her hands slide further up Yelena's sides, thumbs brushing over her ribcage - maybe she's being a little bit teasing now too, it's only fair.
“Mmm… I don’t think I will,” she grins, carding her fingers through Kate’s hair. “You are the most beautiful person I know, Kate Bishop.” she says it softly, like it’s something no one else should bear witness to, just the two of them.
Oh, that’s nice. Kate’s hands smooth over her skin in careful exploration, slight calluses on her fingers from her bow only serve to add another layer of sensation to the experience.
She smiles into the kiss, unable to stop it even though it breaks it. A soft huff escapes before she resumes her earlier zeal, pushing easily past Kate’s lips with her tongue to do some exploring and tasting of her own.
"We gotta get you in front of a mirror, then, sweetheart," Kate replies, just as soft and smiling, struck with the strange but lovely simultaneous sensation of her heart rate staying so quick from the wanting and slowing from the sweetness of that statement.
"Like here, and here?" She slides one hand around her back and runs her nails very lightly up the line of Yelena's spine, the other down her stomach to trace across her waistband, "Obviously perfect, and I haven't even laid eyes on it."
Oh, what a fantastic way to have the tables turned on her. It's such a difficult choice, but she pulls the hand on Yelena's back out from under her shirt to slip her fingers into her hair instead, just in case this kiss ends before Kate's had her fill and she needs to tug her back in.
“Not all things that make you beautiful are seen, milochka,” she murmurs softly.
Yelena gasps, arching slightly when Kate hits a ticklish spot as she drags her nails lightly up her spine. “You know, they say assuming things is bad for everyone involved,” she teases playfully, a smirk on her face.
A tiny, contented noise hums in the back of her throat. She nips lightly at Kate’s lip, fingers curling into the material of her shirt as Yelena deepens the kiss even further.
"That's true," Kate agrees, smiling that soft, silly smile at Yelena again, helpless against that sweet comment even though she does still have a little bit of the 'is that a challenge' glint in her eye too. "But I can list those while you look, so no worries."
God, the gasps. She's never going to get over the gasps. It pulls a responding wanting noise from her own throat, and no doubt the same want is written all over her face - at least until Yelena is kissing her again and taking it up another notch, too. Then it's her turn to gasp, and lose track entirely of what her expression might be doing. Kate'll sneak replying into the next break for air, because there's no way she's rushing that.
"Not assuming. Informed guess. But feel free to try and prove me wrong."
Oh. Suddenly, that’s a lot more feeling than flirty banter, somehow.
“I can list those.” It’s not such a strange statement, not even an odd sentiment, really, given the context of the conversation but… Yelena feels it catch him her chest at hearing it said so plainly, so easily, like it would just be so simple to point out a hundred little things she finds beautiful in her.
In mirrors, Yelena only sees the darkness in herself. She sees the blood on her hands that will never come clean. But somehow, despite everything she has done, she has this… this silly archer who has worked her way so deep under Yelena’s skin and doesn’t seem intent on leaving her any time soon.
And fuck, that clenches her chest tight, a deep ache around her ribs. She wants to say something, anything just to let her know how deep this all runs but… she can’t find the words. Turns her focus to the physical, because actually it’s much easier than being truly honest in her feelings.
“I don’t think I want to…” she murmurs softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Oh - there's a definitive change in the atmosphere that Kate can't quite put her finger on fully. It doesn't feel exactly sad, but certainly it's serious, and that's visible on Yelena's face, as well.
It distracts her a little, if she's honest, so she isn't entirely certain if she's following about what specifically Yelena is saying she doesn't want to do. Kate tilts her head to lightly press their foreheads together again, aiming for soothing more than excited now with the stroke of her hand on Yelena's back. "Okay, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Are you okay? Did I say something that upset you?"
“What?” a confused frown flickers across her face. “No,” she reaches up to cup her hand against Kate’s cheek. “No, of course, I'm fine.”
She smooths her thumb across the high rise of Kate’s cheek, and she presses a soft kiss to her lips, barely more than a press of her lips against Kate’s, a ghost echo of a kiss. “You didn't do anything wrong. Why would you think that?”
"I just wanted to check, it seemed like your thoughts had gotten more serious and maybe heavy. Which is absolutely okay - I just wanted to check if I had said something that prompted it, which you don't need to explain if I did, but I don't want to make you sad especially when I'm just running my mouth."
Kate slid both hands to Yelena's lower back, lacing her fingers together there. "What were you saying you don't think you want to do? I'm sorry. I was way too distracted by kissing you, I can't even remember half of what I've said in the last ten minutes."
“No, no, no... You didn't do anything, it’s fine, I promise.” her thumb strokes lightly against her cheek again. “Sometimes, um-“ she laughs, a soft huff of noise, “it’s just kind of intense, how much… how much you care.” the smile she gives her is a little watery, but it’s genuine.
“In a good way, I mean,” she clarifies, reaching up to tuck a stand of hair behind Kate’s ear. “But I’m just… not used to it. It can be a little overwhelming sometimes, that’s all.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at herself, “It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I definitely tend towards extra. And you're... I'll save finishing that sentence for some later time, huh?" The smile Kate returns is also genuine, and also tinged with oops-almost-did-it-again. "I can cool it a little - probably. I can try. Practice makes perfect, right?"
"It's not stupid, and you don't have anything to be sorry for. Totally the opposite, thank you for telling me. Please keep telling me if I'm being overwhelming, especially so I can keep it from becoming not in a good way."
“No, don’t do tha-aaat, tell me- what we’re you going to say?” She shakes her head, “no, I don’t want you to stop. I don’t even want you to back off. I like it, it’s just… I don’t know how to explain,” she shakes her head, a frustrated frown creasing her features.
She reaches for Kate’s hand, playing with each individual finger as she tries to explain, “It’s like… you know that second you drop from the top of a hill on a rollercoaster? It’s intense and terrifying and fun all at once… you make me feel like that all the time.”
"Okay, okay. You can like something and not want it all the time, though, that's all I'm saying. You don't need to explain, I won't stop unless you tell me to. Just know I won't be hurt or anything if you DO." For a second there, it feels almost like competing explanations, and somehow it's a very sweet feeling.
"You're incredible. Magnetic. Hella interesting. Made to be worshipped, probably."
Kate smiles, metaphorically melting even more at those words. How is it that she has that effect on Yelena? That doesn't sound like it should even be possible. "Yeah, I know that feeling. You make me feel like that all the time, too."
"Or, you know. Like I'm being tossed off a roof or something." Is that a bad joke? Hopefully that's not a bad joke.
“Okay,” she says, making an exaggerated ‘O’ shape with her mouth when she does.
Whatever she’d expected, somehow those things weren’t it. She knows she is good at the flirting and the banter, but the rest? She’s utterly clueless. So, it’s kind of nice to know maybe she’s not fucking up too much so far.
She snorts a laugh, “Ohmygod, you are terrible,” but she can’t really stop laughing either. So it’s obviously not too bad.
Kate rolls her eyes, affectionately, at that expression, but it's still agreement.
She's not fucking up at all, so far. If Kate knew Yelena were even considering that as an option, she'd have gone on for at least another five minutes coming up with words.
Success. "What?" Kate asks, making the most innocent face she's capable of, "It's a very similar type of feeling, I found out. Or at least it was the first time. I haven't checked to see if it stays that way."
Yelena thinks it’s probably natural, the silly little wiggly-woos of nerves when things in this relationship hit certain, tiny milestones. The self-doubt is… annoying, probably, but… she’s trying, at least. There’s forward progress happening, even if sometimes the steps are super small.
“Maybe you don’t test this theory any time soon, yes?” she chuckles lightly, shaking her head slightly.
Yelena is right - it's pretty spectacular to Kate that she even gets to bear witness to those steps.
"No, you don't think I should? Damn." Kate shakes her head, a very exaggerated serious expression on her face, "I already put up a ad on craigslist for someone to help me find out. You wouldn't believe how many hits 'seeking: throw me off a roof' has gotten."
"Oh, you can find people that'll do anything on the internet. And that is definitely not even in the top hundred thousand weirdest requests on craigslist, believe me." It's too amusing, that matter-of-fact tone and repetition of 'refuse' that implies Yelena thinks Kate isn't full of shit right now. It's very generous of her, if she's pretending to believe this.
“Okay, maybe yes— But why would anyone want to do that… and to a stranger?” Even if it isn’t the weirdest request on Craig’s List, it’s the weirdest thing assaulting Yelena’s brain right now. Kate only has herself to blame for this.
Yeah, Kate usually only has herself to blame when conversations take a turn like this. She doesn't even really feel bad, too entertained by the questions and Yelena's confused expression. It was just too good. "I don't know, people are weird. It does make a really interesting story to tell people afterwards."
"I feel like I should make sure you knew I was completely trolling when I claimed I'd actually put up an online ad for that."
“Were you going to pay them or something? It just seems so random!” Or maybe Yelena just doesn’t understand internet culture to quote the same extent Kate does.
“I knew that,” said with all the bluster of someone who maybe absolutely did not realize that at all.
Edited (My phone really hates were and always makes it we’re 😂 ) 2023-06-28 02:35 (UTC)
"Aw, baby," Kate grins at her, pretty amused by that bluster, although she manages to hold back any actual chuckles. Yelena's still going to be able to read it all over her face, but she doesn't think she needs to tempt fate by being too obvious about it - although it's not like she thinks Yelena would be anything other than play-irritated. "I promise I fully intend to try and keep it that you're the only one who's ever thrown me off a roof."
"If it were real, yeah, I think I'd pay them something."
“Whaaaat?” She groans and makes a dramatically pouty face at her. She can feel the amusement in the air between them, and wound have to give Kate a bit of credit that she kept herself together quite well. “Maybe not again, though. Not fun.”
The frown on her face says it all, but she lets her mouth do a little more, “You would pay them to be thrown off a roof? Kate, that is insane,” she snorts a laugh.
Okay, the groan breaks her, a little chuckle escapes. The dramatic pout didn't help either, both contributing to the chuckle and making it impossible for Kate not to lean in and steal a kiss. "You're just super adorable, that's all."
It is insane, Yelena's right. This is probably in the running for one of the most bonkers things Kate has ever said, and yet she's gonna stick with it. "I mean, it'd be rude to ask them to do it for nothing, wouldn't it?"
She smiles at that compliment, a small, genuine thing with the tiniest edge of humility to it. She cherishes those things Kate says when she’s looking at her like that. “If you say so,” she says, shaking her head.
“Would it? I mean, if for some reason someone feels so strongly about throwing you from a roof, it sounds like they are already ahead on getting something out of this. Paying them only makes it worse.” Not that any of this even matters, since it’s just something Kate said off the top of her head and decided to stick with.
"I do," Kate nods, very serious, "Since I have working eyes and all, it'd be a lie if I said anything else."
"Maybe they don't feel that strongly about the throwing someone off a roof part of the ad though, maybe they just need any job they can get. What if that's the only way they can buy dinner for their kids that day, if they take the throw-a-rich-girl-off-a-roof gig?"
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Yelena has no misgivings about how she looks, but it’s just different having it angled this way, directed at her so genuinely rather than using it for her own advantage.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Okay, this is too much,” she waved one hand, dismissive, “new topic.”
"Okay," Kate is absolutely furthering the useless and/or easy stereotypes right now, but she really doesn't want to do anything other than lean into it. Who could ever not eagerly want to keep making Yelena laugh as long as they possibly could? It feels like winning something, each time.
“I don’t knooow,” she draws the word out, amused, but as she curls her lips into a smile, a different thought enters her mind and something devilish flashes in her eyes, “Maybe we can do something else with our mouths instead?”
It’s with that question that she pulls Kate closer, the kiss she tugs her into is full of tongues and teeth and the kind of need found in bedrooms of teenagers— but, hell, she skipped that part of growing up, and maybe she deserves a taste of that, too.
From anybody else, that would be the type of line that would just make Kate burst into laughter. It's ridiculous how effectively it'd work from Yelena - knowing that Yelena isn't trying to use a line, she's just talking, only makes it better. Probably for the best Kate doesn't have the time to reply before Yelena is kissing her. She would have only said something else stupid that Yelena would basically be obligated to tease her about again.
Better her mouth is kept busy - just about best case scenario that her mouth is kept busy like this. She doesn't even have any embarassment left about the sound she makes against Yelena's mouth, overwhelmed for the first few seconds of this kiss. The want from before their conversational break kicks back in quickly, though, and that kicks her into gear to match Yelena's energy, give as good as she's getting. She settles her hands on Yelena's thighs, running her thumbs back and forth lightly, and sits up a little straighter to try and deepen the kiss even more, to better chase the taste of Yelena.
She goes completely silent for nearly two weeks. Her phone seems to be disconnected, no one really seems to have heard from her.
It’s probably pretty jarring to walk into his own flat, which he knows he left quite distinctly both empty and locked when he left it last night… to find a lithe blonde passed out on his couch. She doesn’t seem to notice the sound of the key in the door or the soft squeal of the lower hinge as the door is pushed open; she doesn’t hear the soft, light footsteps as he moves around either.
She looks at peace in her sleep, at least. It makes her really look her age. Makes her seem smaller, somehow. So still, quiet and relaxed in a way she never is when she’s awake. Like this, she could almost pass for a typical 20-something.
Almost.
She still has tactical boots on, a knife tucked inside of one of them. Her hair is swept up in a messy ponytail and has no less than three other blades hidden on her person somewhere.
The tv is on low, little more than a soft murmur of sound so the room isn’t completely silent. He can either wake her up or let her come to in her own time— depends on what he thinks is worth more: Letting Yelena actually get some sleep or finding out why she’s here.
Bucky thinks that maybe Yelena had forgotten about their tentative plans when he doesn't hear from her for two weeks. It's fine though, since they hadn't made solid plans, and Steve got back from his mission the night before. Bucky was definitely otherwise occupied so it's a good thing she hadn't messaged. He's back home now though, not needing to be part of Steve's debriefing at headquarters.
He definitely remembers locking his door, so finding it unlocked is a little strange. He doesn't often get visitors, aside from Barton coming over to harass him and bring him pizza. He knows that Barton is also at the debriefing though, so he steps into his apartment with caution. Looking around, he spots her. Yelena is fast asleep on his couch. That explains the door.
Bucky drops his bag on the counter, making sure to not be too quiet. He's positive that she's clocked him being home already, and just written him off as a non-threat. He knows what it's like, sleeping lightly, just in case. But she knows that she's safe here, and if she doesn't want to wake up just yet, then who is he to force it on her.
She's been away for two weeks now doing who knows what, so if Yelena wants to sleep in a safe place, Bucky isn't about to stop her.
Instead, he puts his groceries away and settles into the chair to finish his book.
The soft, but distinct noises of him moving about the flat are welcome, given the almost contented sigh that escapes her. She is aware, but not awake, clinging to the last dregs of sleep.
So for a bit, Bucky can enjoy his book in peace. But eventually she slowly starts to stir. An annoyed growl first, reaching blindly for the first thing her hand lands on— a tiny throw pillow, which she immediately shoved against the side of her head.
A deeper, more resigned groan is next as she huffs and shoved the pillow under her head instead, tilting her head to squint over at Bucky perched in his chair. “Your couch is trying to eat me,” as evidenced by the way she managed to wedge one leg between the cushions in her sleep.
Bucky looks up over the rim of his book when he hears Yelena start to wake. He knows better than to wake up an assassin without warning, so he just lets her come to consciousness on her own. Finally, she speaks and he can't help but quirk his mouth up, amused. "I got the comfiest one on the market. You have no idea what they were like, back in the twenties and thirties, like sitting on a goddamn board."
He slips a bookmark between the pages of his book and sets it down on the table next to him. "Kinda surprised to find you here. You can't warn a guy? What if I had someone here with me," he teases. She probably knows that he wouldn't, since Steve is busy with the Avengers. Their relationship isn't a well kept secret, even though they don't openly share it either.
"I can tell," she says to the first comment, other than tugging her leg out of the wedge it'd managed to get into, she seems not very eager to move from her place on the couch. "Everything was worse then," at least she does manage to sit up, shoving herself with her back into the corner of the couch. "You barely even had tv."
She snorts softly at that. "What warning did you need? Was me on your couch not enough?" What kind of spy would she be if she went around warning everyone every time she planned to swing by? Honestly. "Oh, no, I might see you chastely kiss your husband!" she pretends to be clutching pearls she isn't wearing. "The scandal!" she laughs at her own joke, grinning at him all the while.
"We didn't have tv," Bucky corrects. "Just movie theatres. We had a phone at my place though, and people from all over the neighbourhood would come and use it when they needed to." It's so weird to think about now, since Bucky currently has a phone sitting on the table next to him, with no cords attaching it to anything, and the capability to connect to the internet. He can keep in touch with anyone he chooses to, and avoid those he doesn't. The future is wild.
"If you think that all me and Steve do in here is kiss chastely, then you are very misinformed about our relationship." Neither he nor Steve are loose lipped about their relationship, choosing to keep things pretty private, but he's never once let anyone believe that they're not fucking like rabbits the moment they head back home together. "If word got out that we're not innocent old grandfathers, it might actually be a scandal."
“God, you are older than TV?!” Is she really that shocked or is it just the dumb little sister energy she holds so much of finding a way to burst out of her? Always hard to tell, actually.
She laughs, and it’s a raucous thing, loud and uninhibited. “Oh my God, I want to read the TMZ article they would do! It would be so funny.”
"I was born in nineteen eighteen, Yelena," Bucky states dryly. "TVs weren't invented for in home use until almost the thirties, and I was way too poor to have one." His parents had been better off than Steve was, but that's not to say that he was rich at all. Far from it.
He agrees with her on her second point, though, since that article would be hilarious to read. "I feel like no one would believe it, even with photographic proof. Steve is so good at playing the boy scout that no one even suspects that he lives in a den of sin."
"Well, I don't know, okay. I wasn't there when it was invented, it's always existed to me!" It's very, very obvious she is not nearly as offended or upset as she sounds. It's all for the joke. Like so many things can be with her. It's a coping mechanism, and also just her style of humor. A wham-bam, one-two punch of inescapability!
"They would say one of you was a stand-in, or it was actors or oohh-" she's literally bouncing on the couch now with her excitement at the sudden thought in her mind, "Oh, have you seen the musical? It is hilariously terrible."
"It is a pretty good invention, even though people use it for evil," he's not going to clarify that without her asking. He just takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs. "I do like watching movies though. I always liked fantasy and science, and there's a lot of that stuff now."
"We're not talking about the musical. I can't believe they used our vows in it. And not only that, they made 'Steve' say them to Peggy instead." Bucky shakes his head. It's really upsetting to him, because history has rewritten him into some sort of side kick instead of Steve's partner. They're married now, but they would have back then too, if it was legal.
"All good things can, and will be, used for evil. It is an unfortunate fact of our reality." That... well, that's a lesson she learned very young. "But what evil are you speaking of, specifically? Movies are the best! Did you know they made Tolkien's novels into movies?" Someone must have told him, surely. If not, that may be what she insists on later, even if they are the longest ever.
She wrinkles her nose at that little tidbit of information. "Oh, I did not know they really used your real ones, that's disgusting." And kind of a double-down of insulting, given the way they ended the play, actually. "Can't you sue them or something?" she asks, tipping her head a little to one side.
"Have you never accidentally watched the news?" Bucky responds. "I hate to be that guy, but back in my day, the news was all real. Now it's just sensationalism and outright lies. We used to have to have sources for our news, and they needed to be reliable. And yeah, there was war propaganda, and they didn't tell the whole truth but..." Apparently he feels pretty passionate about the state of the news now.
"Is it worth it? They're just gonna tell the story that they want to anyway," Bucky shrugs. "So. What brings you over?"
It’s a valid thing to feel passionate about, the state of news these days IS pretty abysmal. “Ahh, yes. It is all propaganda now, yes? Or some celebrity crying about things no normal person cares about,” because celebrities in the news? She’s pretty sure that’s a “her generation” normal, but definitely not his.
“We should watch them anyway, and you can tell me how wrong it is and throw popcorn at the screen about it.” Because if there is one thing this man needs more of in his life, it’s fun.
She shrugs at the question. “I was in town and I thought I would stop by.” It’s not an outright lie, but conveniently is also not the whole truth, either.
[Peter makes sure to grab the bottle of hot sauce he promised Yelena before he leaves, taking a quick moment to make sure he leaves his window unlocked so he doesn't lock himself out again. (And avoid that super awkward conversation with his landlord while trying not to reveal himself as Spider-Man, good times.)
Once satisfied that he has everything and is ready to go, Peter closes the window behind him, pulls down his mask, and swings into the night, repeating the address Yelena gave him in his head so he doesn't forget it.
For the time it takes him to arrive, Peter lets himself enjoy being alone, just him, swinging into the open air. There really isn't any feeling in the world like it.
He arrives in fairly good time, landing on a fire escape before knocking at the window he thinks is Yelena's, holding up the bottle of hot sauce, as promised. Otherwise, this will be awkward for Yelena's neighbors, oops.]
[Peter almost starts when Yelena suddenly appears, but he manages to keep his cool, surprisingly. He grins and waves with the hand holding the hot sauce.] Hello! A present from your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as promised.
[He sighs and his shoulders sink when she says that she heard him a mile away.] Yeah, that's definitely a work in progress. I think I have too much fun swinging and I let it get the better of me.
[He climbs in through the window, beaming under his mask.] You might have, once or twice. I still love hearing it though.
It does look really fun. I want to go, sometime. [It's like flying, or near as she'll get without some terrible science experiment gone wrong all over her, and hey, she'd rather not, thanks.]
Good, because I do not think I will stop yet. [She leads the way away from the window and further into her flat, leaving the hotsauce on the counter in the kitchen.] You want something to eat? A soda? Are we drinking? I don't know. What are we doing, Pyotr?
It's super fun and I will definitely take you swinging whenever you want! [Peter perks up at that. He loves swinging and he's always happy to show someone just how great swinging is. He thinks Yelena will have a good time with it. He hopes, anyway.] Just name the time and place and I will be there!
[Peter follows Yelena into the kitchen, removing his mask as he does.] Soda and a snack would be great, thanks! I guess we're making it up as we go?
Perfect. [She grins, her little thrill-seeker heart pleased to hear that ready agreement to her idea.
She nods with a soft hum as she grabs two sodas from the fridge, along with a fruit tray because no one said snacks can't also sometimes be healthy.] That sounds about right, I suppose.
[She pops the tab on her Coke and grabs a glass and a bottle of whisky from a shelf in the kitchen. If they're making it up as they go, she's having an actual drink.]
You want? [She offers, holding the bottle out to him. No judgement if he says no- whisky is hardly an "everyone's thing" sort of drink.]
[Peter grins, and he brightens when he sees the fruit she grabs in addition to the sodas for a snack. He loves any and all food, especially when he's hungry like he is now, ready to replenish his energy.] Can't go wrong with the tried and true classics, am I right?
[Peter watches as she grabs a whiskey from the kitchen. He's fine with just his soda, though part of him is curious. He's never had an alcoholic drink before.
He shakes his head when she offers, though he appreciates the offer all the same.] Thanks but I'm good. Maybe next time.
[He'd love to try a drink, but right now he's happy with just soda.]
From here https://crazycanoe.dreamwidth.org/1729.html?thread=289217#cmt289217
It's hard, it's like a knife in the gut, a literal pain she knows, to see the woman she considers her daughter in pain. And she can't make that pain go away, not like a kiss to a scraped knee or killing a Red Room agent who attacked her. This is beyond her ability to fix in any way, she isn't equipped for it.
She misses Natasha too, and she's proud of her, and she hates herself for not stepping in when she could have. And she's angry that Nat never called her for help. And she's furious that Red Room took everything from her girls and gave them a future that was destined to be filled with complexity and pain. She is so ill prepared to help with that.
Melina hadn't been prepared for hearing 'mom' or 'mommy.' How could she know the surge she would feel in her chest for her girls being hurt or being excited. They were so eager and smart and open to the world that she'd almost forgotten that the whole thing was a charade sometimes. She'd failed her mission because she'd loved her family.
"I know. I miss her too. So much it feels like part of me is gone and what's left just hurts."
The grief and the pain of this loss is one she cannot see ever being... smaller, hurting less, and there are so many things tangled up around it that make it even harder to let go of. Meeting the man who was, by Valentina's account, the reason her sister was dead had done nothing to simplify it, either. Clint Barton was broken by her sister's sacrifice, too, and she hasn't really been able to unpack everything from that last fight.
It's weak. It's childish. She hates herself for it and the way it goes against everything she's been taught and raised to be... but she curls into Melina, "It isn't fair," she mumbles against her mother's shoulder; she knows it's stupid to say- nothing has ever been fair in her life- but it's all she can think, "Why couldn't it be someone else?" Anyone else at all. Just not Natasha.
Melina wound an arm around her and drew her close enough to rest her chin on the soft blond of her hair.
Oh, there was a question. When did fairness ever enter into things? Had their choosing been fair? It was just random ugliness.
"She ran from the wolf and ran into the bear." It was an old proverb, older than her by far, but just as true. Natasha had tried to leave her past behind her and wound up running into something even more deadly. She became a hero and sacrificed herself to save everyone. Oddly the thought made her smile even in her sadness, she smiled in pride.
"Our Natasha, she couldn't come to holiday dinners or barbecues, but she could travel across the universe and give her life to save so many. It is unfair how badly she makes the rest of us look."
Comfort. It isn't something they're any good at, not really. Not any of them. Comfort was never one of the directives of the Red Room. But there is a comfort in her mother's arm curling around her, the press of her cheek against the top of her head. Almost like she's just a little girl again.
"Stupid bear," she mumbles as she pulls away slowly, swiping her hands under her eyes to wipe away any evidence of her tears.
That at least gets a laugh out of her, brittle and shaky, but immensely better than crying. "Honestly..."
No, but the program had made them nothing if not capable improvisers. The benefit of their training allowed them to appear as a family and by doing that enough she'd been able to fool even herself. Or had she? What she felt for her girls and even for Alexi was true. When she lost her family she felt that loss.
And to see Yelena laugh even a little lifted her heart. Melina wiped away the tear trail off Yelena's cheek with the back of her knuckle.
"She has given us a chance to make her proud, we will do this, yes?" She lifted Yelena's chin and gave her a solid look expecting an answer.
It was never a lie. Not for Yelena, too young to understand any of it at the time. It made her separation from them perhaps even harder. But it was the thought of the reunion of them that saved so many of her nights in the barracks with the other Widows. One day, she’d escape, she would find them again.
And she had. And it had been an absolute disaster. But Yelena wouldn’t trade her family for anything in the world. They were hers, the rest didn’t matter.
She lifts her gaze to meet Melina’s. “You’re going to make me cry more,” she complains, a tiny pout on her lips, but she nods, gives her the answer she was waiting for, “Yes… we- we will. We can track the other Widows down, reverse the subjugation, give them new identity. New lives… it’s what she would want.” She blinks back the tears trying to build again. “You will help me, won’t you, Mama?”
What family remained they had now, and none of them seemed inclined to let it slip away again.
"No, no crying. It gives wrinkles."
She took her shoulders and gripped them firmly. "I am with you, and we will help our sisters. No one need suffer what the program has put them through ever again."
And she could help with the chemical and mental programming aspects of what had been done, she was in a unique position to undo the damage she'd caused. Not something she'd ever thought she could do but the world was a different place now than it had been years ago.
The comment gets a half-hearted scoff from her, at least. Better than the alternative.
Doesn’t stop her eyes from glistening at the agreement to do what they can for the other women trapped in the schemes of the Red Room. “We can fix it,” she nods, fingers of one hand lingering on her mother’s wrist at her shoulder. “together…” how they should have been all along.
1. Last night I thought his shirt said Yale... but this morning it definitely says Old Navy 2. It's gotten to the point where waking up in my own apartment is a surprise. 3. Midnight run for medical supplies ended several hours later with a lapdance, so I can't complain. 4. We are arguing over whose family is more dysfunctional... 5. Text her; assumed CR/misfires welcome!
Huh. You know, I think at the end of the day, it has to be vampire. Only being able to go out at night wouldn't change my ability to do my job much. And I don't think I'd like being at the whims of a werewolf transformation. What about you?
RIGHT If anything, it would be much more helpful. Especially these vampires. Interrogations would be SO MUCH FASTER. Definitely vampire for me, too. And NOT just because you said so. Vampires are just cooler, and sexier. No furballs for me.
Maybe a little bit because I said so. And the furball thing. Do you know what makes me laugh though? When the vampires have super speed but nobody's hair gets messed up in transit.
[Yelena is VERY Pro-Alexei getting extra ribbing from other people.]
I don't know, you know how it is... One person says something, someone else says another, and then family dinner is ruined because the knives have come out.
Anyway, what are you doing these days, old man? Are you retired yet?
yeah, what's his phone number then. let me ring up an old pal, why not.
[ kidding aside, though: ]
i'm trying to stay retired, but the world can't seem to stop fucking up long enough to let me have my peace. it's fine. what about you? family doing well with the side gigs?
Yelena, true to her word, shows up at Steve’s that evening. She hopes he doesn’t ask why she is there, she isn’t sure how to put it into words. It’s just— he’s one of the few people that really knew her sister. The woman she had become in the years she had been apart from her. It’s complicated, but grief always is, isn’t it?
She's glad he is amenable to the idea at any rate. It’s better, not being alone, when she can afford the luxury of it.
She grabs one of the small throw pillows and hugs it toward her, “We should watch a movie or something,” she suggests, settling in the corner of the couch.
Opening up his home to a friend, or the sister of a friend who needed it came natural to Steve. In the world he came from it was only considered simple hospitality. There was no need to question why she was there, or what she needed. He didn't have any reason not to let her use his couch, or come over to spend a little time. Steve was more than happy to oblige.
Most evenings he spent texting Bucky, or diving into the internet for more information on the wealth of things that had changed between when he hit the ice and now. It wasn't easy to catch up. He was doing his best, but he often felt like a stranger, a man out of time. That's one of the reasons why he got along with Natasha so well-- she had her own solid demons, but played it off. She let him in, even when he made mistakes. She accepted him.
When Yelena shows up and makes herself comfortable, Steve grabs a couple of beers and brings them to the couch with a bags of chips and dip. Food is always good with company. "A movie sounds good. Anything you're interested in? Horror, Comedy, Fluffy?"
She appreciates the way he doesn’t press her to talk. The generation she’s a part of is so foreign to her, spilling their guts up online about their lives at every moment. She much prefers the old sensibilities about minding your own business unless someone invited you to be a part of theirs.
Yelena happily accepts the beer that he offered her, opening it for a sip before she said, “Why don’t we watch one of your favorite ones? From when movies were still so new,” she teases with a grin.
It would be odd to push someone to talk, especially someone like Yelena. She's from a very different life and Steve knows that her way here hasn't been easy. It wasn't like his friendship with Natasha happened overnight. It took a long time for her to tell him much of anything, and trust came after that.
Steve's from another generation, and he's still out of time and place. It's easier to sit in silence and enjoy a beer and some food with a movie than force out a strange conversation about a nothing topic.
Taking a sip of his own beer, Steve smiles and laughs. "Movies were exactly new, but they were mostly still in black and white. I have been watching mostly newer things, but I do have one of my very favorites from the forties.
Picking up the remote, Steve goes to his movie collection through his computer on the TV, something Clint set up for him and pulls up Casablanca. "A classic so i'm told, and also one of my favorites." He leans back, takes another sip and smiles as the title screen comes up.
In her time getting to know the people her sister seemed to see as extended family of some kind, Yelena has decided that Steve ranks pretty high on the list. Who can you trust, if not Captain America himself?
“I like Cary Grant- he has some funny ones.” she settles a little more now, sinking a little heavier again the cushions behind her.
Her face lights up just a little when she says abruptly, “Oh! Do you have any popcorn?” She graces at him and scrunches her nose slightly, “You like the taste of beer enough to drink it even though it does not give you any kind of buzz?”
"Cary Grant was amazing. I love a lot of actors and actresses from my time. I spent enough time watching movies. I was a small man back then, and in Art School. I mean, I went out to bars, but usually got my ass beat up, and tossed out for starting trouble." Steve laughed. He was a patriot all the way back then and always stood up for anything American. He would also drink what he could.
He was too sick to do that much drinking though. Maybe that's why he enjoyed it so much now. Not to mention the guys always had beers after going out on assignment. He sighed and nodded. "I have both popcorn and yes, I do like it enough. It's a habit, and a remembrance to those I lost. I think." He lifts his beer and thinks of the guys, but then takes a sip with a smile and gets up.
Going to the kitchen, he sets to make popcorn. Tapping on the kitchen counter, Steve waits the three minutes then comes back with a bowl full of the stuff. "I can't believe how easy it is to make popcorn now. It really amazes me."
[05. i really don't think "get laid" will solve all of my problems...]
----
Oooh I like the 90 Day Fiance, they are CRAZY on that show Aaand the 1000-lb Sisters, they are HILARIOUS Sometimes you just have to have something on for noise, you know? No brainpower required.
hey, everyone is allowed to have some dumb fun every once in a while i actually think i caught berto watching the fiance one once or twice it did seem to be pretty crazy even by my standards
Ooh we should compare weird and crazy standards of things because of having very weird, no at all normal lives.
You pick a topic and I’ll give you my answer. Then you say yours and I pick a topic A slightly more difficult version of word association, sort of Maybe not really But you get the idea
[iv. Everybody makes mistakes. Also they let you text in ambulances now.]
–––
It is fine. I will come. But why are you IN the hospital? What happened?
[And, like- why does anyone think he needs a hospital? Do these people not know he is a super soldier? How bad does it have to get when someone with such accelerated healing needs a whole hospital trip?]
Okay. We need a plan. Am I breaking you out of the hospital or am I coming in as family member making a scene or what is best to keep your cover in tact?
[5. Details are irrelevant. come bail me out of jail.]
–––
You are really unhelpful for someone asking for my help, you know?
Even if he says anything else, that will be the last text he gets from her because she has to go throw a new outfit on before heading down to the precinct to bail him out. She's always got some kind of bail money set aside because- well- that's just the kind of life she and those closest to her lead, okay? It's just smart planning, at a certain point.
In the kind of way only Yelena can manage, she swans in and charms the absolute hell out of the people dealing with the most boring aspects of this job. She makes a soft enough demand of getting him out on bail that it's almost impossible for them to deny her.
"Who are you in relation to Barnes, anyway, sweetheart?" the man she'd been discussing everything with asks as he taps some information into his computer.
She leans an elbow on the counter and props her chin in her hand, "Can you keep a secret?" she stage-whispers conspiratorily.
"Sure," he says, amused as he glances back up at her. "I'm good at that."
"We're in something of a.... how you say... situationship. Very complicated and messy, but... worth it," she emphasizes those words with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows, "if you know what I mean," she completes the thought with a quick wink sent his way.
He chuckles lightly and nods, "I think I do," he finishes up what he was doing and says, "Officer Robins will take you the rest of the way, ma'am."
The sun is already dipping in the western sky, the cafes of Saint-Denis coming alive with evening customers, as a cool elegantly dressed blonde makes her way along the sidewalk, paper bag of groceries in the crook of her arm, stopping outside one of the distinctive Parisian doors to get out her keys.
To her neighbours Anne Darceneaux was just a typical businesswoman, one whose work frequently took her away for long periods of time. Indeed, none of them had seen her for several years, until one day she had turned up again out of the blue, much to the delight of Pierre Thompion in the apartment across from hers who'd lingered on the landing this evening so as to try and flirt with his beautiful neighbour.
Brushing him off gently in fluent French, Anne unlocked her apartment door, hefting the bag of groceries as she closes it behind her, her gaze briefly catching on the mirror by the entrance, a sigh escaping her as she studied the reflection of Anastasia Petrova, a twinge of remorse making her break eye contact with the reflection after only a moment.
Six weeks now, six weeks of living another's life, of waiting in hope that the widow that she'd nearly killed years before might show up. She'd give it another couple of months, maybe tip off some more underworld contacts if that didn't work, but failing that she would be at a dead end.
Finding the other Widows scattered across the globe to hit them with the Red Dust and cure them is… a harrowing job, but a necessary one. It makes her feel closer to her sister in a weird way she can’t quite explain. She doesn’t like thinking about it over much, so she just puts her head down and does her job.
Petrova has been more difficult to place than she had hoped. Yelena hopes it doesn’t mean she has been killed before she could be saved. She would not be the first, nor likely the last, who turned up that way, after all.
But finally, after what felt like forever, she’s tracking movement of her. This has always been the fun part of the job to her. Sure, she likes the fight as much as anyone, but this? It’s where she shines, she thinks.
As Anastasia enters the apartment, distracted by something in the mirror — for a moment, Yelena thinks she’s caught her, but whatever it was, it was brief and did not hold her attention. Nothing immediately seems off, things are still in the places they they are meant to be. Nothing looks particularly ransacked. But there is a heaviness that hangs in the air of the room.
Yelena still waits, hidden well in her spot, refusing to move a single muscle, waiting instead for her target to move closer.
With the door closed Anastasia tosses the keys into a bowl and makes her way across the apartment, paper bag crinkling in the night air, about to take off her shoes before something catches her ear.
Thump, thump, thump...
A heartbeat. One that Anastasia Petrova's ears could not pick up, but which is easily apparent to her own superior hearing. Anticipation instantly replaces boredom, the knowledge of who it must be causing a rising thrill mixed with worry about how this encounter will go down. Will she be forgiven? Was wearing this face a mistake? Questions she'd been asking herself for weeks bubbling up in her mind in a tsunami of anxiety. But there's absolutely no indication in Anastasia's body language that she's noticed anything, and she continues through the apartment into the kitchen, depositing the bag on the kitchen counter, still for a moment before she speaks.
"I know you are there, I do not wish to fight." She says, Anastasia's voice, her true Russian accent readily apparent, is entirely calm, as if discussing the weather over a coffee. Turning her head she looks right at where Yelena has concealed herself, not seeing her yet, but sure of her hiding spot.
"I have pain au chocolat, they are I think very good."
At the assurance of no fight, Yelena takes her at her word and steps from her hiding place, hands up and visible, not on any of the weapons very clearly on her person. She is who she is, she would never be caught unarmed. “Anna… do you know why I am here?”
She ignores the comment about the pain au chocolat for the moment. Maybe when this is over, though…
Yelena also doesn’t trust how calm she is being. It’s a stark difference from how the others before her reacted to Yelena’s sudden presence in their lives. She is still on guard, hackles raised, and ready to spring into action the second it’s necessary.
Anastasia Petrova would almost certainly have a gun in the paper bag. She also might have an idea about why Yelena Belova was on the trail of other widows. Gemini de Mille had no need for the first, and little about the second, the knowledge of Yelena's activities more important than the 'why' when she'd started looking for her.
"I'm sorry but Anna is dead, she has been for six years." She held up her hands to show she meant no harm, her expression sorrowful and apologetic. Perhaos it wasn't the best thing to lead with but she wanted to be honest, even at the cost of potentially getting attacked. It's not hard to miss the whipchord readiness in Yelena's posture, and keeps her own entirely relaxed and unthreatening,
She pulls a gun from a holster at her hip and aims it at the woman in front of her. "Who are you, if you are not Anastasia?" And how the fuck does she look exactly like how Yelena remembers her? She's not attacking, not yet, but she's definitely much more guarded suddenly.
The gun is not unexpected, but it barely gets a glance. Anastasia's attention is fixed entirely on Yelena and if the gun gives her a feeling of security then she's more than happy to ignore it being pointed at her.
At her question the likeness of the widow melts away, blonde hair turning black, skin and clothing twisting like putty and in the blink of an eye someone entirely different stands in front of Yelena, a dark haired young woman in casual jeans and a green sweater, the only thing that hasn't changed is her apologetic expression.
"My name's Gemini. I was tasked with killing a widow and after you escaped me in Bangkok I tracked down Anastasia." She sighs regretfully, both for the widow's fate and for the horror of what she put Yelena through. "Please do not run, I'm not here to hurt you." She repeats, hands still up, trying to convey in her tone that she's not lying.
She doesn't even get fully through her transformation before Yelena lets off a shot, then two more, into the- thing's head. And suddenly she is trapped in a horror movie, because it actually doesn't do anything to her at all. Her form seems to melt and bend before snapping back into place, the bullet casings clattering to the floor. "What the fuck?" she mutters darkly, staring in shock at the very different woman that now stands in front of her, whole and fine, despite three shots to the head.
Yelena's mind is moving a warp speed, but she does catch the two things that interest her most: taksed with killing a widow and-- "Bangkok?" It's been so long, but she remembers it in a sort of perfect clarity. "Suka," she swears, "And you think that I am going to believe any of this? That somehow it is okay? You are insane!"
But she doesn't know how to handle the situation now. She's still reeling from watching her melt into whoever is standing in front of her now. From watching her skin simply snap back from what would easily kill anyone else. So she's just standing in the middle of the kitchen, livid and terrified all at once, and a little rooted to the spot just now.
"Ow." She deadpans, smiling weakly at her joke, a feeble attempt to break the ice that falls entirely flat given the circumstances. She'd been expecting Yelena's reaction, but it doesn't make it any easier in trying to get through to her. So she stands by the kitchen counter, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and trying not to fall into the great chasm of guilt that opens up every time she looks at someone impacted by her past actions.
"My name is Gemini." She says soothingly, holding up her hands to try and pacify Yelena. "I used to work for HYDRA. They knew about the Red Room and ordered me to infiltrate his operation. That's why I attacked you." She spoke quickly, trying to get over what she needed to and prevent the fight or flight instinct from kicking in.
"I know it's not ok, I remember what I did to you and I want you to know how sorry I am." Her memories of the fight with Yelena were crystal clear, of ambushing her in the shape of something truly nightmarish, of deliberately drawing out the chase for her own sick enjoyment, drinking in Yelena's fear and desperation, as she failed to harm the creature hunting her, relishing every injury she inflicted and then taking Yelena's shape to .mock her before the final kill. The memory was so strong it made her physically flinch in disgust, the only relief being that she hadn't managed to add the widow to the long list of her victims.
We can find a place to go that isn't weird club dancing. There's so much in this city, surely we can find someplace to do the foxtrot. You can teach me your old moves.
Can I admit to you that the decision making process is still very overwhelming to me, so if you can figure out somewhere for us to go, that doesn't involve me standing up in front of a crowd, but also having fun with you, I'd be very grateful?
You don’t have to always go with me. And you make compromises to do things out with me. You’ve come so far, and being social isn’t easy for everyone and that’s okay. You aren’t holding me back from anything, I promise.
And I always will be. You can trust that. Yes, I do not want to hurt you, but... in my opinion, given our histories, lying would be more harmful in the end.
It’s okay, I get it. I can do that about things sometimes, too. It is a very specific and narrow view the both of us have of the world at large. We can always talk things through, though, any time you want or need to.
I feel like you handle it so much better than I do. And I know it's not because you have a different experience, but you're just bright and alive despite it all. And here I am, being such a downer, getting stuck up here for reasons I should be able to move past.
And it's hard for me to talk about because it sounds so terrible.
After our respective captured with our agencies, I was technically more socialized than you. Not in good ways, necessarily, Dreykov did like putting us girls against each other just as much as he wanted to make sure we could work in tandem as units. But until you became close to me… until we broke out, you were so much more isolated.
I am not laying excuses at your feet, solnyshko, but it is an understandable thing that sometimes the social situations are more overwhelming for you, in my opinion. Moving past things is not easy. And you have come so far from before. Don’t discourage yourself.
Words are hard. Explaining feelings is even worse. But I can listen. And I will not judge you. I love you, moy soldat. I would do anything for you.
Yelena tucks the phone into her pocket and pads her way back to the room they've been sharing. "Hey," she whispers, slipping under the blankets to wrap herself around him, not all so unlike she had become a backpack for him; she's certainly small enough against him for it, at any rate.
"Miss me?" she murmurs softly into his ear, her cheek pressed against his own.
It's so different from anything he's used to. So new, even if they've had stolen moments like this before.
Not completely though, because there was always trepidation and fear, and the Soldier doesn't always know how to act- but when she climbs into bed, pressing close to him, he can't imagine this could be wrong.
"I did". he answers plainly, pressing back against her. 'i always miss you when you're not around .
“You are so sweet,” she says, nuzzling at his neck. “And warm,” she adds with an amused huff, curling her fingers into the material of his shirt.
Yelena settles there with him, pressing her forehead against the back of his neck and just breathing him in. She knows it won’t last, but these small moments of peace are a blessing she wants to soak in.
Missing her was one of the first emotions he learned. It was intense feeling that felt overwhelming. It's not as bad now that they've escaped together, but he still feels it when she's not around.
The next thing he learned was relief, which is what he's feeling now as she settles in against him. He can let go of the outside world for a moment when she's curled around him.
"You're chilly." He nuzzles her, tightening his arms around her to warm her up.
Emotions are messy, and Yelena does her best most days to box hers up inside her head, but it's rather often they spill out across her face, into her body language, and sometimes in tears on her cheeks. She tries to help him, as things go on, because being a person, instead of a weapon, is so very overwhelming for both of them, in their own different ways. Sometimes, she thinks she has it better, more of a foundation for that messiness because of how blank-slated his handlers had always made him.
"It is very cold," she agrees with a nod against him. She presses her lips in a soft kiss at his shoulder.
mistletoe things...that might have to do with the stray start i'm sending your way later
The holidays are a weird time for Daisy. With her former team - her family - kind of breaking off and doing their own thing between being busy as the Director of SHIELD, an agent out in the field, teaching at the Academy, going on a bit of soul searching, retiring or... going into space in her case, it means not everyone is aware of the holidays or in touch with each other and it's...lonely. There are familiar faces she recognizes out on missions or in debriefs, but they're not the same as the people she spent many years with saving the world. Or Yelena, even if they haven't known each other all that long.
Daisy likes Yelena and seeing she isn't at the holiday party, it makes her decision an easy one as she puts in a little face time, grabs some goodies, steals a sprig of mistletoe and some vodka before deciding to head to Yelena's instead. It's all without a text to let her know she's on her way so she kind of feels a rise of anxiousness for a moment, thinking that maybe dropping by is a stupid idea and Yelena won't hesitate to tell her so.
But. Maybe it isn't.
"Open up, I have presents!" It comes after a quick three knock pattern, to try and entice Yelena in opening up the door. "And it's cold!"
Despite the fact that Christmas, and more specifically American Christmas was one of her favorite things in the world, she’s just not feeling very festive. So, Yelena is holed up in her flat, on the couch with a fuzzy blanket and her dog next to her, trying to decide what to put on tv for background noise.
Which, of course, is when the knock comes on her door.
She isn’t expecting anyone and it brings a touch of a frown to her features. “Ostavat’sya,” she murmurs quietly to Franny, who perks up at the knock, but does as asked with familiar command; she still watches Yelena very closely as she goes to answer the door.
The knock, rhythmic in the same way twice, comes again and this time a voice is accompanied with with it. A voice Yelena recognizes, which drops all of her hackles as she yanks the door open, “Daisy Johnson, what are you doing here?”
"Saving you, from the looks of things." There's a note of teasing, of mirth between her tone and the glint in her eyes as she looks at Yelena, noting that her place seems quiet - aside from the shuffle of the dog on the couch because she is curious, as is her right - and Daisy decides that is probably about as bad as it would've been had she gone back to her place with her tiny pre-decorated tree and festive wear on her hula girl to keep her company.
It would've been worse, because at least Yelena has her dog.
"I saw you didn't get dragged to the party, so I brought the party to you," she's holding up the arm full of items she stuffed in a decorative bag she'd taken on her way out so she had a way of holding everything and tries to move it enticingly for Yelena. "It's not a bad time, right?"
"From what?" she glances back over her shoulder into her flat, "Being home and with my dog? That is basically everyone's wish in life, yes?"
Still, she isn't actually denying her entry into her apartment, as she side-steps to give her space to walk in and Yelena locks up behind her. Locks make her feel better, even if she knows, given her specific line of work, they are essentially useless.
"Did you bring half of the snack table with you?" she asks, amused. "No, no bad time. Just a boring one... which will be less so, now that you are. here." she snaps in Franny's direction, which gives her permission to finally leap from the couch and run over to sniff at Daisy's shoes and lick her knee. Just dog things, you know.
If there's one constant truth, it's that Alexei Shostakov is not doing alright. Not one bit. Adjusting to society after twenty years in prison had already been tough enough. Hunting down other Widows to free from the Red Room's control had also been tough, in a completely different way. Trying to navigate what was going on between him and Melina- if anything- had been a third tough thing. Then came that fourth thing in the form of turning to dust, losing more than five years as the world proceeded without him, then coming back to existence to absolute chaos. That was the final straw, really. That, and losing Natasha.
He found a home in America and spends most of his days watching TV, absorbing that very same culture he'd feigned to be part of in the 90s. His job just barely pays enough to cover the bills. When one has fallen so far, even getting out of bed in the morning is a chore, but he's no quitter. He keeps going, because there's still one person left of their little family who pays visits every so often. He can't let Yelena down.
Those visits are hard to predict, though. Right now, he's wrapped up deeply in a Seinfeld marathon (good, harmless, American fun), while trying to clumsily eat some leftover noodles straight from the take-out box. Red Guardian, ladies and gentlemen!
Yelena has been... lost since coming back from nothingness. Five years passed her by in a matter of seconds. It wasn't easy to put together. Worse still was realizing that she had missed her own sister's death. She was intent on taking out the man said to be responsible, and she almost had, until he had known that whistle. It took every ounce of wind left in her sails and it was the moment she realized she could not trust Valentina.
Saving the other Widows was at least a purpose to work toward, but the ones left had proven impossible to find, already dead, or they had saved already. Watching them wake up never got any easier, either. She dreams of it, and of the things she had done under Drekyov's intense control after Natasha had defected.
Her family barely exists now; Natasha is gone, Yelena isn't even sure where Melina is, and her father... well. At least she can still drop in on him from time to time, yes?
She doesn't bother knocking, instead she simply picks the locks on his door and slips inside. Perhaps not the smartest move, but... he is old, and not near as spry as he once ways, so even if he tries to attack her for catching him off-guard, she does not doubt her ability to dodge it. "Hi, dad..." she says from behind the couch before she moves around it to sink down onto it next to him.
Alexei's so absorbed in what's happening on TV (ha ha, he does not want to wear the puffy shirt but he has already agreed to do it), he doesn't hear the picking of the lock, nor does he hear the opening and closing of the door. He thinks he hears the creak of a floorboard right as some noodles slip from his fork, back into the takeout box. Before he can turn around, though, Yelena has already spoken up and he starts in his seat. His head turns so fast it leaves him in danger of spraining a muscle or two.
"Yelena! You did not tell me you were coming...!" he says, his voice louder than usual from surprise and just a sprinkling of embarrassment. His house is pretty messy right now and the noodles... Well, he'll set them down on the table with one swift motion, hoping they won't be questioned.
"I didn't know I was coming," she says, her voice flat. She doesn't care about the mess or the noodles- things she would surely call him out on any other time. It's obvious she's not in a typical mood.
She slips her shoes off and scoots them under the table, out of the way, and wraps her arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest. She looks so small and so much younger than she really is when she does things like this. Maybe it's habit, in a way, old automatic actions she falls into around him because of the dynamic she remembers from Ohio.
"What are you watching?" she asks, not really interested in the answer, but needing to break the silence.
Alexei recognizes the gesture. Even so many years later, he can still vividly picture a young girl doing the same thing when she was upset. She was so much smaller back then, so much frailer. Still, some things never change, and that includes Alexei's desire to cheer her back up. He sits back on the couch again, leaving the box of noodles where it is on the table. He won't ask what's bothering her; that's not really his style. If she wants to talk, she'll talk, and until then, he'll distract her with other things.
"Jerry Seinfeld. Famous American comedian. We would watch this sometimes, in Ohio. Do you remember?"
Not that Alexei watched it in quite the same light back then. 'Ridiculous Western propaganda', that was what he'd thought. Nowadays, sentiments like that have lost their meaning.
He doesn't ask, and she doesn't volunteer any information. She barely knows how to put what she's feeling into words if she's completely honest with herself. Maybe if she doesn't think about it very hard, it will come to her. It works for some things, like when she loses a pen, and it seems to appear from nowhere as soon as she stops looking for it.
"What is it even about? What does the funny man do?" her eyes are on the tv screen, but she's barely taking any of it in. "Maybe... I think I remember the weird one, with the hair that looks like he was shocked by electricity."
"Yes! Kramer," he says, hoping that will jog her memory further. "He is the funniest one. Always sliding into apartment unexpected, taking food from Jerry's fridge... And he does not work. He never works. Only gets up to shady moneymaking schemes. They say Seinfeld is a show about nothing, but there is a lot happening. Very good commentary on petty American society."
Truly, he is sophisticated for watching this series. There are layers there to peel away. But more importantly, it makes him smile, and there are days where he needs that smile. Maybe it'll make Yelena smile too. He hopes so.
She hums a soft, noncommittal noise and nods a little. She still doesn’t remember it, not really, but it doesn’t matter. She does remember all of them piled in the living room watching tv together. This living room feels fairly empty in comparison, though.
For a few minutes, she just sits there with him and watches the tv show she is not actually paying attention to. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it could feel more like it did in Ohio. Maybe Mom and Natasha are just simply… picking up things for dinner at the store. It was easier for Melina to take their oldest daughter for things like that, let Alexei wrangle the little one for a little bit, instead.
But she can’t lie that well to herself; Natasha is gone. Melina is… wherever she is these days. It’s just the two of them on a couch in a messy flat, alone.
She shifts until she’s pressed against her father’s side, pushing until he takes the hint to loop his arm around her shoulders so she can hide her face against him. Hot tears well up in her eyes and spill against his shirt, but she doesn’t sob, she doesn’t make a sound at all. And maybe that makes it all the worse.
Back when they were all in Ohio together, Alexei had always been feeling restless. He would insist, over and over, that Dreykov had chosen the wrong person for the job. That he should've been out in the field. What good is a super soldier when he just sits around a house all day, pretending to be American? What he hadn't realized back then, but knows all too well now, is that his priorities had been wrong. The only good that had come from being associated with the Red Room had been the Ohio mission, and those are years he can never get back. Neither of them can. Sitting here now with Yelena is the closest thing to it, even if it is just a pale imitation. A faint echo of a makeshift family.
When she presses up against him, it takes him by surprise, but he does understand the request just fine. It's because he understands the request that he's surprised in the first place. His arm settles around her shoulders to pull her against his chest and he assumes that to be the end of it, but... now his shirt is getting wet.
It takes him a long moment of debating (is this bear poking?) before he decides to throw the question out there: "Did something happen?"
While he takes care of the rest, Yelena goes to find her painkillers to toss down her throat before she gets into an incredibly hot shower to help wash away some of the yuck that comes with a hangover.
She lingers for awhile, letting the near-scalding water help ease some of the knots in her shoulders; distantly, she has a thought about asking James to help press the rest of it out with a massage later.
She wanders out eventually in a black and pink pajama set she can be comfortable in. Her apartment is warm enough, she’s not cold despite being in shorts. She drags a brush through her hair and tosses it up in a claw clip out of the way.
“I smell bacon,” she says, sing-song in her tone, as she makes her way toward the kitchen.
[3. I had a threesome with my hot neighbor and his girlfriend and by threesome I mean I heard them getting it on in their apartment and I was in my apartment eating ice cream]
[ooc; From the Parent Trap-'verse; after the big failed mountain cabin getaway & resulting heartbreak after... end of the week following these two threads]
––––
The last week has been rough. There is a lot swirling in her mind, still reeling from everything earlier in the week. Guilt has settled quite firmly between her ribs, and as a result, Yelena's mood has been... hard to read, at best, downright sour at worst. But it was all leading to this even harder day. Nothing could have prepared her for what she would witness that day.
The Thunderbolts– God, she hates that name, it is so objectively terrible– had been called to Cap's headquarters; some meeting of the minds about possible alien tech use in Greenland and a discussion of how to handle it, who should go, and if they might need to contact Captain Marvel or the Guardians for an assist.
She... barely remembers what was actually said because her focus had been on Sam and Bucky the entire time. The tension that she felt spark like static in the room as soon as Bucky and Sam's eyes met across the room. How awkward every inch of Bucky's body language was against Sam's seemingly very calm and ever-chill exterior.
Bucky was, somehow, quieter and frownier than usual. He seemed like his attention was divided between the task at hand and something else. Something around his eyes looked... blank, several times through the meeting- she's almost positive he was disassociating right in front of all of them. He also wouldn't even dare to look at Yelena the whole time. Probably for the best, she isn't sure she could have kept herself contained if he'd tried to say a single thing to her.
Sam's stance showed a subtle shift when Bucky was near him. Usually, she'd noticed before, he faced him if not wholly, then he was still shifted toward Bucky, but that's all gone; it's not the most obvious cold shoulder ever, in fact it might be the most subtle one she's ever seen, but it's there in that tiny twist of his body toward the rest of the room, just that little bit away from Bucky.
To anyone- probably everyone- else in the room, Sam likely seemed... fine. Business as usual. He smiled. He joked. He laughed. He made plans and called shots. He was... perfectly Captain America-ing, in excellent form on the business front.
But his smile didn't reach his eyes. His jokes didn't have the right amount of heart in them. His laugh didn't sound as hardy as it usually did.
His arms were folded across his body most of the time, except when he was pointing to maps or similar. His eyes were dull, and she didn't even know that could happen; his eyes always seemed a little bit like they were lit from the inside with starlight, but it was snuffed out now. He was too well-focused on all of the business of everything, in a way that was more like seeking a hyperfixation to distract himself than anything else.
"Whatever you need, buddy," Barnes had said, at some point, in a voice so soft she could have missed it if she wasn't so goddamn focused on the two of them. He even dared to reach out and clap a hand on Sam's shoulder. "We're in your corner."
There was a smile on Sam's face, genuine, but not wide enough. Not bright enough. It didn't reflect in his eyes like it should have. "Thanks, pal," had come out of his mouth as smooth as ever... but he still pulled away from that hand on his shoulder, even if he played it off as getting Joaqín to come help him look at some coordinates.
The whole meeting had her stomach in knots. She barely spoke except when it was absolutely necessary. As soon as it was clear that whatever meeting they were having among all of them was over, and that some people were lingering in the way people often do when they don't want to be the first to leave? Yelena happily jumped to her feet and stomped out of the facility first.
––––
Back at her own apartment, she locks up behind herself and promptly flops down on her couch, greeted by Franny pushing her cold, wet dog snout right into Yelena's cheek. "Hey, baby," she murmurs softly. "You are so lucky you are a dog..."
As if she could understand her words, but was very confused by them, Franny tipped her head to one side, and then the other. Classic confused puppy face.
Yelena gave a single, weak, "Ha." of laughter, shifting her position on the couch to give her dog space to climb up with her. Maybe she'd be able to think of a way to set all of this right after a little sleep.
[ Dylan has no idea how any of this happened. One minute he was living it up in his last summer before college, badly hitting on the big man around camp and enjoying the time he had left as a free man. But there was no level of fun that could make up for the bullshit that ended up happening - especially how he's left being some kind of otherworldly creature whenever the full moon comes around every month.
So, a lot of people are dead or fucked up. He doesn't particularly feel like either, he thinks. But he can't start college now and he definitely can't go home, so when some rich lady figures him out and starts asking him to do things for her, he might aa well. A few years pass and hey, is he technically a spy now?
Who knows. All he really gets is the lines are starting to blur between the two shapes he can take because of working for Valentina, but he's okay with that, as long as he's useful and having an interesting time.
He's definitely going to have an interesting time today. The mission is dull as ever, but he's paired with a cute blonde with a great accent. He doesn't know much about girls or have non platonic feelings about them, but he knows this - everyone back home is going to be jealous. ]
So forget the mission, tell me about you. What incredible creature pushed you out and made you the painting you are?
@nomorefear
——
When he arrives, Jason will find Yelena leaning one arm against the counter of the food truck, chin propped in one hand as she watches the man inside the truck go to work on all the food she ordered. She knows how boys eat, and she is no shy eater, either. It’s a lot of food, and definitely enough to share.
She grins when she hears him approach and turns her head slowly to look over at him. “I got us a bunch of tacos, loaded nachos, empanadas, and some sopapillas.” It seemed like a good feast to her anyway.
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"Guess this means I'll have to forgive you for being such a jerk, huh?" He's already gunning for the nachos, wanting to pick at them. "This your second serving?"
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She laughs and munches on an empanada, “I did start without you, but there is much to share.”
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"This the place you come to when you're bored?" It's not bad.
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As she finishes off that bite, she says, "Your city is like New York's seedier cousin, did you know this?" It's not a real question. He lives here, she can't see how anyone could miss it.
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Jason raises an eyebrow, snorting at her comment. "Hey man, fuck you." But yeah, okay. "I mean, you're right but still. Only Gothamers can talk shit about Gotham."
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"I'm Russian, I judge all of your American cities by birthright," what that actually means is anyone's guess, half the time Yelena just says words and hopes they come out cohesively enough to make a sentence. "Is there tourism here at all? Or is it just all crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos?"
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"Oh, right. We all fucking suck to you, huh." Hey, she makes sense to him. Maybe that's why they work. "Mostly just crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos, but people love to come check it out. I'm thinkin' about trying to start a Red Hood day."
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“Is it not natural for Americans to also hate Russia? I feel tensions are always there on both sides,” maybe not in individual relationships between people, but the overall? The country to country relations? Yeaahhh.
She squints a little and cocks her head to the side. “What would this day mean- will not be a bank holiday? Will you run through the streets in chaos?”
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"Doesn't everyone hate the Russians?" He says with a smirk, snagging a taco to take a big bite of it. "I'll run through the streets in chaos and chili dogs will be free."
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She shrugs, "Probably, but obviously, they're wrong, we're delightful people," she grins at the idea. "Everyone will praise you for the free food!"
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"Eh." Jason shrugs, eating another taco. They're gonna end up finishing this feast pretty quick the way they're going. "I mean, that's all we really need right? Free food for all. Peace on earth, man."
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She snorts at that, “If only it were so simple, huh?” She knows people have their notions, their goals for their cities, their countries, the world, but… Golden ideals are far from the dripping red and inky black life she grew up in. She can’t relate.
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"If only. Then I wouldn't have to be out here every fucking night." he probably would be anyway though, because this is his life. Always has been in some shape or form. He can't relate to golden ideals either. Everything is so far from it that all he can do is joke. He's assuming she's smart enough to know that.
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She nods a little and hums a soft, thoughtful note. “We do what we have to,” she gets it. She was made into a weapon, but she’s learned ways to use those skills to do good things. Or at least, she’s trying. It’s a process, and not exactly an easy one.
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"I busted three drug rings tonight, and that was only before you messaged me." All in a night's work. "Why were you so bored?"
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Which is a really convenient segue into why she’s really in town anyway. “I’m trying to find someone. Her name is Tatiana Petrova, I think she might be a hired hand somewhere in your city. For who, I’m not sure, but maybe you have seen her—” she shows him a picture of a woman on her phone.
“Or her call sign somewhere,” she flips to another picture in her camera, an hourglass shape inside a circle. The sign most Widows leave if they leave one at all. Tatiana was always a bit of a boaster that way, Yelena can only hope that hasn’t changed under Dreykov’s chemical subjugation.
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It's kind of a relief when she does bring something up. Not that he was about to judge her or anything. It's easy for him to shift back into work mode. "Haven't seen her, but it depends on who she's working for." He takes her phone to get a better look. "I've seen this sign before, though. Couple clubs downtown."
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"Which ones? You can get us in, yes?" She knows Gotham plays on its own set of rules, and she'd rather know what she's dealing with before she starts breaking them.
@just_one_shot
It is still strange to think she has one of those. A personal life. A social life of some sort, even. Very small and ultra-contained, and she still hasn't really moved outside of her general circle of former Widows and her fake parents– she's still a little bitter about that whole thing, actually– but something is better than nothing, and at least when they get together now it's not only because of a mission. Sometimes, it's a mission and it's family night.
Either way... she waits, and she's glad that Kate will never have evidence of the stupid way she keeps looking at her phone every time the next text is from her.
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She would, for instance, claim to be generally a cool person, even though she definitely provided evidence to the opposite on the walk over, if anyone had been paying attention. This is a whole new level of 'holy shit is this really my life' and, even though Kate's a little more than reasonably sure of herself, probably, that's still a lot of holy shit to contend with.
Thank goodness for New York, talking to yourself a little on the sidewalk doesn't even register to most people. She manages to knock off the combination pep-talk-excited-ramble-no-way-is-this-a-trap-right-no-mantra in the hotel lobby, at least. Getting kicked out in the LOBBY would be the most mortifying, she would be forced to lay down and die somewhere, probably. The rambling is absolutely what's going to give her away in the hallway, though. There's no way that's not going to be audible for at least a minute before Kate manages to shut herself up again and knock.
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She's talking to herself, and even though Yelena can't make out all of it, she catches enough bits and pieces to realize she's trying to be her own hype man.
So, when that knock finally comes, Yelena is already on her feet and wandering over to answer, open bottle of vodka in one hand as she swings the door wide. "Hi..." she grins and steps aside to let her guest inside. It's a decent room, nothing overly fancy but the bed is big, the pillows are fluffy, and- well, there's the vodka in her hand.
"Drink?" she offers with a shrug.
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"Hi." If there had been anything particularly memorable about this hotel room, aside from the occupant, it would not have registered to Kate anyways. She looks around just enough to follow Yelena in without walking in to anything or trip. She doesn't think she's going to end up regretting her priorities on where to keep her gaze - the alcohol might end up a different story, but oh well. "Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you. Should I have actually offered to bring something? I'm sorry."
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“No, this is not one of your mother’s fancy socialite parties, we are just…” she trails off, a perfect pause for effect even if it was really only because she’s not sure what the right word for what they are even is… “…friends…? Having drinks and maybe watching a movie…?” Her words hang in the air, awaiting their answers, while she tries to judge Kate’s reactions to all those phrases, and the suggestions that came with them.
Yelena is a multitasker, though, and she moves to flop back onto the bed once again. She’s in comfortable clothes, an old t-shirt that’s too big on her and a pair of pajama pants that rest low on her hips, socked feet swallowed by the bell flare of the pants. Practical enough to fight in, but far more casual than the sort of things Kate usually sees her wear.
“Come join me, Kate Bishop,” Yelena calls from the bed, feet pulled up toward her so her knees are basically a bridge, arm outstretched toward the other girl, fingers flexing. “I am so sad and alone in this white cloud.” Which to her credit, is exactly what the bed looks like— all white, white mattress, white sheet, white duvet. “It’s either a cloud or a marshmallow, whichever one you like the idea of best.”
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"Are we friends?" It's probably not an incorrect word, but it doesn't feel like the exact right fit either. There's no negative reaction to it, though - it matters, sure, but for now she's happy to call whatever this is whatever Yelena wants to. "Drinks and a movie sounds fantastic."
Thank goodness Kate had resisted the urge to get fancy herself. She's not dressed quite as comfy as Yelena is, but at least she's also casual in jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie. That had almost not been the case at all.
"Yeah, you look very sad and alone right now." That gets a little laugh, and a little bit of staring, before Kate actually follows directions, kicking off her sneakers and climbing onto the bed. Had to try and burn that image into her mind first. "I think cloud is probably more fitting. Less... sticky."
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She thinks maybe it is a good word, if not the perfect one, for whatever it is she may have with Kate. And Kate doesn’t seem to be against the idea, either, which feels… really good, actually. Or maybe it’s just the vodka making her feel so… is it giddy? She isn’t sure. This night is very strange already.
If she notices the staring, she doesn’t act like it bothers her at all. But the second Kate is settled, she turns on her side, head propped in her hand. “Hiiii,” she greets her again, drawing the word out a bit this time. “It can be a cloud, then.” She’s not the least bit subtle with the sweep of her eyes over her, something very appreciative and just a little hungry settles in her gaze.
“You pick the movie,” she says abruptly, twisting to grab the remote from the bedside table which she hands to her. Yelena really doesn’t care what is on in the background, because she’s far more interested in her present company, but she’s very good at playing roles and this doesn’t even feel like an act.
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God - already back at that sensation of whiplash that still keeps featuring in every conversation she has with Yelena. That look - goodbye, previous train of thought, it was nice knowing you, sorry not sorry you ended up just vanishing in a poof of smoke there. Does that mean Kate gets to look at her like that now, does that count as permission? Dear god, that might kill her anyways. Right, they're talking.
"I - okay, but I'm gonna need more info. What kind of movies do you like? And how much of that have you had to drink already?"
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She squints into the silence that Kate lets build and build and... "Did you forget how to speak? Did I break you? I mean, at least you're not a robot and unaware of it- I heard that happens sometimes. Can you imagine?"
"Oh, I don't know. It was full when I started-" at least a third of the bottle seems to have disappeared since then. "I'll watch anything. Whatever you want." Yelena smooths her hand up Kate's thigh, leaning close to whisper in her ear, "I'm not going to be paying attention to the tv anyway... Kate Bishop."
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"Might be a little bit broken, yeah. You have a very brain-breaking effect." She does the hand gesture for a little, and then tosses the remote somewhere off the side of the bed. Or the cloud. "Not picking a movie. I think I would literally have to be insane to spend any time looking at the tv when you're right here -" another gesture "- seriously, have you seen you? And you're doing the looking and the touching and the whispering which is definitely not legal, by the way, forget the movie. Come here. Can I kiss you?"
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She laughs again, it's a little bit of a huskier sound this time, "It's not to watch, it's so there's a little bit of a noise buffer between us and the neighbors..."
"I was beginning to think you were never going to try," she grins and leans in lightly brushing her lips against Kate's. Only that soft, little tease, and then she stops, smiling.
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Well. Maybe not exactly her best. Hopefully it doesn't come across as pushy to take her time and be thorough, or to linger and really make sure it's committed to memory.
The noise buffer thing is a good idea, oops, but Kate is far from interested in letting go to retrieve the remote again right this minute, so she's just going to skip that. "'Be detailed.' You know exactly what you're doing, and you know it's working, too."
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Pushy isn't really going to hurt anything she's doing right now. She hums softly into the archer's mouth, her fingers looping gently around one wrist. Not to stop her, Yelena doesn't mind her fingers curling against her cheek. Only to keep some point of contact with her.
"As long as it is working..." she laughs softly against Kate's mouth. "Please... I'll be good if you tell me..." she slides her fingers up to tangle in her hair.
Maybe she just likes listening to Kate ramble.
It's not her fault she's cute when she gets on a rant.
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And if that's not how miracles work, it should be.
"Okay. Okay, sure, whatever you want. I'll tell you anything you want. Remind me what you had asked, though?" It's just a shame she can't keep kissing Yelena as much, while she's talking, but Kate can make it work - she'll use kisses as punctuation, or thoughtful pauses, or whatever else she can come up with.
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She smiles softly up at her. "I like you from this angle, we should do this more often."
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And then a very big soft smile in response to that. "Hey, any time. You can see me from whatever angle you want whenever you want."
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“I promise I have not yet done a single illegal thing with you tonight.” she lets a low chuckle rumble through her chest. “Not yet, at least.” She tilts her head back with the laugh that bubbles up with that thought.
Yelena pouts up at her, “Oh, you do not know how dangerous an invitation like that is, you know…”
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Oh, look at that. Maybe that head tilt wasn't meant as an invitation, but it certainly looks like one. Kate dips her head and nuzzles into Yelena's neck, pressing a few - okay, more than a few - slow kisses there.
"Yeah, don't care." Hopefully this is audible, cause she isn't really lifting her head to speak. "You want it in writing? Engraved? I can do that."
I can't lose you, too.
Maybe it wasn't intentionally such an invitation, but she won't hear Yelena making a fuss, except that surprised gasp she just earned herself. Her fingers wind through Kate's hair, a soft, pleased hum in her throat. "More... more of that would be nice," she mumbles against the archer's temple, her lips pressing softly there.
"No," she says through a laugh, shifting only enough to let Kate get more comfortable. "no evidence..." she almost purrs the words in Kate's ear, but then her words are a barely audible whisper which Kate probably won't understand, even if she can hear every word. "Я тоже не могу потерять тебя."
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Really, anything before that surprised gasp is immediately unimportant, and there is simply no convincing Kate that her priorities are in any way wrong here. "You can have more of whatever you want."
Okay, maybe she would have no argument against it if Yelena happens to know the word simp and decided to toss it out right now, but whatever. Hardly actually an insult, and Kate didn't want to budge anyways. Right here she can trail kisses right over that work of art jawline, down to Yelena's pulse, and back again. And she's well placed to do a little whispering of her own. It's not quite as exciting or interesting sounding - "I have no idea what you just said. What's that mean?"
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She hums a long, softly drawn out note and shakes her head. “No… not today,” she denies her, a little pout crossing her face at the way it makes the features in Kate’s face shift, something confused and curious at once. “But I will tell you… one day.”
“Do not worry,” she smiles softly up at her. “It’s not bad… I promise.” she lets her finger slo o w ly wind a strand of dark curl around her finger. “Why can’t we just be this…? And only this…” the smile on her lips is weak and watery, barely held in place on her face before she feels all of her features crumble under the weight of—
Whatever this is.
This golden, bright thing Yelena is terrified to name.
“You have to stay…” she murmurs softly, her thumb sliding gently across the high arch of Kate’s cheek. “Please… say you will stay… here, with me…
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Maybe. Well, she'll try, at least.
Her turn to put her hand over Yelena's on her face, squeezing her fingers both in an attempt to be comforting and to keep her from pulling away as Kate shifts back, frowning and concerned herself now, just enough to see the rest of Yelena's face. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere, I don't care if you tell me, I didn't think it was anything bad. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. And I mean, if you want to roast me in Russian while we're doing this, that's fine. Not going to run me off, I'm not going anywhere. It's okay."
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She squirms, a shift of discomfort not at Kate or anything she's saying, but at the situation as a whole. At not being able to run from all the things she does not want to face.
Yelena just shakes her head, no words this time, and folds her arms around the other girl's middle, and it takes a long, silent moment for her to find her voice again. "Everything good in my life gets ruined... falls apart or is taken away from me, used against me..." Her words are thick on her tongue, "I don't want you to be ruined because of me."
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Likewise, she does her best not to move again until Yelena does, but that's pretty immediate once she indicates she's still okay with being touched. Maybe Kate should still ask, but she can't help it, almost immediately wrapping her arms around Yelena's shoulders in turn and tugging her in tight. Thinking of what to say takes another minute, this is more than a bit more serious then any comfort Kate has practice giving, and her go to was always distraction. "Okay. Okay. I don't really know how to make you feel better about that or less worried immediately, but I won't go anywhere till you want me to, okay. I mean I'll have to go feed and walk Lucky tomorrow, but you can come with me, obviously. And whatever happened before, whatever got ruined? There's no way that was because of you. It wasn't your fault. No way."
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"I'm sorry-" she mumbles softly against the wall of the girl holding her. "I- I do not know what is wrong with me," she sniffs softly and presses her cheek against Kate's shoulder, and tries to calm her breathing.
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"Things get heavy, it's totally normal. You can go ahead and have a good cry, too, you don't have to stop yourself. It's okay. Better out than in might mostly be used about upset stomachs, but as a saying it definitely applies here too."
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Still, she doesn't really... move away from the grip Kate still has on her. She's comfortable there, clinging to her like maybe she's the only lifeline she's got at the moment. She does ease Kate back down to the mattress with her, keeping her in place with the way she curls against her.
She settles her head against Kate's shoulder and just...stays there like that for a while. Maybe if she just lays here like this for long enough, all the bad thoughts will just go away.
Or Kate will get bored and start talking.
She's not against either of these things, if she's completely honest.
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Even more of a win is that Yelena doesn't go anywhere, either, that they just end up laying there all snug - and that Kate managed not to say anything that made things worse while she was trying to be comforting.
Although she guesses there is still time for that. Best not to jinx it.
It's not boredom that gets her rambling again, truthfully, the cuddling is enough to have her very much content, but the slightly pathological need to fill any medium to long silence persists. "I cried a couple weeks ago cause I dropped a pizza. That probably does imply there's something wrong with me, huh? I'm pretty sure Lucky shed a tear too. You can picture that, if you need to feel better about this. We were in the middle of the sidewalk and the pizza was just completely upside down on the ground and I was still holding the box and all."
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"Mmm," she nudges her nose into the hollow of Kate's neck and presses closer, letting her lips brush lightly against the touch-sensitive skin there. "why do you put up with me, hm?"
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Please pardon the shiver that Kate can't actually manage to suppress at all once Yelena starts teasing her again. The sensation of that little touch deserves a cooler reaction but alas, all her body comes up with is that shiver and a dumb expression on her face. "Me, putting up with you? You know you have that completely backwards, right? There's no putting up with from my end, I am fully aware I'm lucky you want to spend any time with me at all." Let alone this kind of time.
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She reaches up to cup her cheek in her hand. “And I am so terrified of that.”
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Actually, that probably should have been expected. Kate had been shaking her head and, admittedly, already thinking about how to argue - in particular with that comment about not deserving this - and then, bam, L bomb, dropped. "You shouldn't - that's -"
Good god, finish a sentence. "Are you sure?"
Hell. Finish a better sentence. "You shouldn't think you don't deserve this. You deserve the world. Everything. Anything you want."
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“And this is part of the reason why…” she murmurs softly, letting her fingertips stroke lightly against her cheek. “Because I know you believe that. You really do, and I think that’s really beautiful. You can see the way my hands are stained forever, and somehow…you aren’t scared of me…”
It’s a heavy one, her past, and she knows it asks so much of people just for knowing her truths. Being with her, knowing her, it is a risk all it’s own.
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"Which just makes it absolutely bonkers to me that this is what your brain has picked to be just plain wrong about. Scared of you? When I was literally just a pain in your ass, you were protecting me, and you think I should be scared of you? That just doesn't make any sense, sweetheart, I'm sorry. And as for these hands... no, I can't agree with that either. Look how gentle they are." She reaches out and cradles Yelena's free hand in between hers, tracing her fingertips over it. "Every beyond shitty thing you've been through and now here we are and they're gentle. Seems like a way more important description to me."
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“Call me that more, maybe? I like that…” has she ever been anyone’s sweetheart? Maybe before the Red Room, but those memories are mostly blurry.
She takes in a slow, deep breath, “You are going to make me cry, stop it.” She murmurs mostly to herself, swiping one hand under each eye.
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"If you like it, I will absolutely call you that more, sweetheart." Is it too much to use it again immediately? Oh, well. "I'm not trying to make you cry. If you're going to talk badly about yourself, though, I gotta tell you the truth."
“Thank you”
“Spasibo,” she murmurs softly, burying her face in the hollow of Kate’s neck. “What would I do without you, Katyusha?”
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And then she gets Yelena all tucked into her again, which simultaneously is so relaxing and also gives her goosebumps and makes her heart race. The idea that she's not the lucky one here is just absurd. "We don't need to think about that. Far as I'm concerned you can stay right there for like forever."
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She kisses a soft trail up the side of her neck, nipping light and playful at her ear. “Is that what you want? Me… right here…? Forever?” her voice drops into softer and lower whispers with every pause between her words until it’s barely audible on the last one.
Is Kate one of the ASMR tingle people? Maybe this could be even more fun than Yelena knows~
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"Um -" Actual ASMR, probably not. Yelena whispering in her ear, and using her teeth just a little, and all those light kisses? Yeah, that's causing some tingling. "Well - maybe not forever, cause I wouldn't actually really get to LOOK at you then, but..."
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She chuckles lightly, a soft rumble caught in her chest, “I like you like this,” she laughs again, nipping lightly at Kate’s shoulder. “So… re-act-ive…” she over-pronounces each syllable, making sure to hit her accent harder just for that word, right into her ear.
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"I can't help it. God, Yelena." That's almost a whine, but there's nothing unhappy about it.
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She lets her lips brush lightly against Kate's ear as she whispers, "You would get us caught and thrown out if we were in public right now..." But she wants to hear more of the soft little noises she can make.
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"We're not in public, though." Talking at any louder than a whisper just seems wrong now. "We're in your hotel room. In your bed."
"Wait, are you saying you'd do this in public?"
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She nods, which just makes nuzzling into the other girl a lot easier. "Oh, absolutely.... if you'd let me get away with it."
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"I think that might mean you're the possessive one. I'd let you get away with a lot."
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"Oooh, that sounds like a challenge," she chuckles softly. "Are you sure you want to make that bet, Kate Bishop?"
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And then speaking of that (surprisingly unintentional) challenge, Kate shifts just enough so Yelena can see the grin on her face and the glint in her eye, careful to not put any more distance between them than absolutely necessary. "Oh, I'm very sure. Bring it on."
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She does eventually have to break for air, but she can’t linger far from her. Unwilling to move away at all, she kisses feather-light across her jaw and down the slope of her neck. “You might learn to regret those words next time we are out.” her voice is a little rough with her want, her hips roll in Kate’s lap while a soft little whine escapes from the back of her throat at the delicious friction it causes.
“Either that, or you are an exhibitionist in the making, which I will admit, is quite sexy of you, Kate Bishop.” She keeps her voice in that low, seductive rumble and presses a kiss just below her ear.
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Kate can't even find any embarrassment in her that she forgets how to speak again when Yelena moves her hips like that and whines. What was she going to say? Unimportant. She slides her hands up Yelena's thighs, curls her fingers around her hips, not guiding but wanting to. "God, do that again. Feel good?"
"What am I supposed to mind people knowing? That the sexiest woman in the world is kissing me, touching me, teasing me, almost sinking her teeth into me? Nah. That I'm super freaking easy for you? Nah, I'm super good with that."
Darling, baby, etc
She chuckles softly at that request. “Which part? This—?” she rolls her hips in her lap again, this time her eyes on Kate the entire time to really enjoy the way her reactions flicker across her face. “Or… —?” she nips lightly at Kate’s ear and lets out another soft sound right next to her. “I can make so many pretty sounds for you, milochka…”
“You can think of nowhere in the entire world this might be a problem for you?” She smirks softly. “What about one of your mother’s parties. You think you could be quiet enough to not be obvious at the dinner table when I sli-iiii-iide my foot up your leg,” in the very real part of the world, she drags her fingers up the inside of Kate’s thigh.
my very unmatching icons compared to yours keep making me laugh
"Yeah, that," not the most effective reply to the question, but her fingers flex against Yelena's hips and she's pretty sure she stopped breathing for a second, so it was probably pretty clear. "You're making nothing but pretty sounds, sweetheart."
She's been slacking in putting in any of the effort to get those sounds, though, hasn't she? Damn. Kate turns her head, stealing a deep kiss and stretching it out as long as she can manage right now.
Okay, point. "Fine, it might be a problem there, but it wouldn't be a BAD problem. Well, it might, but it'd be good first. Maybe I could, too - who knows?" Her reaction to that touch might imply she can't, yeah, with the wanting sound it prompts and the way it - briefly, it's gonna be very briefly - pauses her plan to turn the tables.
lmao I’m so srs if you want any of these random stock picture icons, steal them 😂
She almost squeaks in surprise when Kate’s lips crash into her own, and she leans further into the kiss as Kate deepens it. Yes, she would like more of this, please.
“I think you would not last five minutes,” she says with a low rumble of a laugh. “But now I want to try… get you so flustered in public,” her tone is almost melodic, a sing-song note there, “a-aaalll that antici…”
She waits.
And waits….
And waits some more….
Until…
Finally—
“…pation,” she breathes against the shell of her ear, skilled fingers slipping under Kate’s shirt to skim across warm, smooth skin. “Aaaall that tension keeps building… and building… but,” she is still huddled so close that she has no doubt Kate could almost feel soft moan she lets slip out. “you are denied the pleasure of the release…”
She presses a kiss under Kate’s ear and murmurs, “Are you sure you’re ready to play your best poker face with a trained spy, Kate Bishop?” her name sounds like the sigh of a prayer when she says it like that.
😁 thank you, I might end up doing that
Oh, there's going to be more of that. There's going to be a lot more of that, if Kate has her way. Part of her thinks she should stay just like this, milk getting such a glorious, constant soundtrack of the little whispers, gasps, moans in her ear. A bigger part has reached desperate to have a more active hand in causing those sounds, and that was before Yelena had started slipping her fingers under Kate's shirt.
"Not even five minutes, huh? What do I get if I last six, then?" Five minutes would be a generous estimate, even in Kate's own head. She's not going to say that, though. She wraps an arm snugly around Yelena's waist to keep her close and prevent any awkward bumping, and then props herself up to a sitting position with the other. (It's the most concentration Kate has managed since they started kissing again, and she's going to stand by those priorities - keeping Yelena straddling her was very important.) "Holy shit, I didn't think the name thing could get hotter. Keep saying it like that and I'll play anything you want."
"Wait, how denied exactly?"
Np! 💕
There’s an eager tension in the air between them, so thick and cloying that Yelena can almost taste it on her tongue.
That same tongue darts out against her lips a moment later. “What do you want your prize to be? Hmm…?” She lets her fingers graze lightly across the inside of Kate’s wrist- pulse points are always so sensitive. “You have something special in mind? Something you wish to try… or something you would like to see me in?” She chuckles lightly, carding her fingers through Kate’s hair.
“Well…” she draws the word out, like she’s considering something. “Not forever, of course,” she gives her a sly grin, “just enough to drive you crazy, make you need,” she brushes her lips against Kate’s neck, her words muttered into her skin now. “Make you want so much you can hardly stand it…”
She at nuzzles her more, taking in the scent of her. “But I always keep my promises, milochka…” she dips two fingers gently into the waistband of Kate’s jeans, just another in this long series of little teasing touches to emphasize her points. “It feels so much better this way,” she insists, “all that building and waiting and tension finally crashing like a wave…?” she groans softly at the thought.
❤️
That - is one hell of a question. There are way too many options that immediately flood her mind, and Kate isn't sure she could focus on choosing one if they were a mile apart, covered head to toe, and hadn't touched at all today - well, that's not entirely true. 'Something you would like me to see me in' has an answer with a very clear lead, but she isn't sure she's allowed to say that specific thing yet. "I... God. I need to think about it." How's she going to think about anything else?
Oh, right. Later, she isn't going to be able to think about anything else. What's actually happening right now is even more impossible not to focus on. "Just enough to do all of that, okay - so that should take like, five minutes for you. Yeah, that'll be very easy."
"I'm convinced. I promise. Drag it out as long as you want. Whatever you want. I mean I'm gonna be useless in between, but god, if this is what uselessness is like, I suddenly see the appeal. Pretty sure you've already melted my brain. You know you can touch me way more, right? Just in case. Can I touch you more?"
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She grazes her teeth across the sensitive skin of the other girl’s throat. “I want to hear your pleasure, Kate Bishop,” she gently takes her ear between her teeth— a little nibble, a smile and a kiss inside of her ear before she ghosts a soft, light breath along the shell of her ear. These are some of Yelena’s favorite things to do— because it gives people a modicum of control in everything that just keeps happening to them, and at them.
“Oh, I will make sure I unravel you first, my love,” she grins again.
She leans down to press her forehead against Kate’s, crowding closely into her personal space bubble. “I have not even begun the real challenge yet,” she chuckles softly, shaking her head.
“You can touch me any way you want,” she sweeps her fingertips across the high stroke of her cheek. “If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you. I am not made of porcelain, you can manhandle me a little. I might like it,” she almost sings the last little bit, an eager smirk on her face, curious which ways Kate might take it to heart or, even better still: act on it.
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That next sentence, on the other hand - pleasure, and again with saying her name like that - her reaction to that is entirely predictable, sucking in a deep breath and nearly thunking her head back against the headboard. "To hear - god, Yelena. I wanna give you whatever you want." It'd be cool if Kate could claim the way she just said Yelena's name was also some intentional seductive move, but the want in her tone and the breathlessness are outside of her control.
"You haven't - what's the real challenge?" Oh, the places her imagination just went.
She might have gotten lost there again a little bit, but 'manhandle me a little, I might like it' very cleanly cuts through any other mental noise - and creates some of its' own. How does everything Yelena says have at least a handful of delicious mental images attached to it? It's almost a shame that right now she very eagerly just wants to keep Yelena on top of her like this. Save that invitation for later. For now, Kate takes the opportunity to nuzzle back into the curve of her neck, the kisses and little nips she trails over that warm skin more firm now that her self control and nerves have both ebbed, and slips her hands up the sides of Yelena's shirt, just high enough that it's nothing but bare skin under her palms and fingertips, tracing little shapes. "You're so soft."
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She chuckles softly, “the one where I work you into a frenzy discreetly in public when you can’t react,” she sighs, a soft, contented sound as Kate trails alternating love bites and soothing kisses along her neck.
A shiver strikes its way through her spine as she finally gets Kate’s hands on her, “And you taste so sweet,” she murmurs back, kissing her again, soft, but so hungry still, too.
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Oh, no - that is another bad sign for the chances of Kate's success, having gotten so distracted now to forgot what they had just been talking about. She's going to have to figure out some way not to forget that she isn't supposed to react in the actual moment.
God, that hunger is enough to leave a girl weak in the knees. Kate's grip tightens involuntarily, instinctively trying to somehow get Yelena even closer. She can't keep the kiss soft then, she just can't, sighing against Yelena's mouth before she deepens it.
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Yelena moans softly into her mouth, her fingers curling around the back of Kate’s head to pull her closer. She opens her mouth in invitation for the other girl to explore deeper if she likes.
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"I'm not serious. Please don't have mercy. Of course you look good in anything, and out of anything. Unbearably good. Unreasonably good."
Oh, that's an invitation she can't do anything but take, immediately and enthusiastically, letting out an involuntary very pleased sound as soon as she gets that deeper taste of Yelena. Her hands slide further up Yelena's sides, thumbs brushing over her ribcage - maybe she's being a little bit teasing now too, it's only fair.
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Oh, that’s nice. Kate’s hands smooth over her skin in careful exploration, slight calluses on her fingers from her bow only serve to add another layer of sensation to the experience.
She smiles into the kiss, unable to stop it even though it breaks it. A soft huff escapes before she resumes her earlier zeal, pushing easily past Kate’s lips with her tongue to do some exploring and tasting of her own.
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"Like here, and here?" She slides one hand around her back and runs her nails very lightly up the line of Yelena's spine, the other down her stomach to trace across her waistband, "Obviously perfect, and I haven't even laid eyes on it."
Oh, what a fantastic way to have the tables turned on her. It's such a difficult choice, but she pulls the hand on Yelena's back out from under her shirt to slip her fingers into her hair instead, just in case this kiss ends before Kate's had her fill and she needs to tug her back in.
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Yelena gasps, arching slightly when Kate hits a ticklish spot as she drags her nails lightly up her spine. “You know, they say assuming things is bad for everyone involved,” she teases playfully, a smirk on her face.
A tiny, contented noise hums in the back of her throat. She nips lightly at Kate’s lip, fingers curling into the material of her shirt as Yelena deepens the kiss even further.
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God, the gasps. She's never going to get over the gasps. It pulls a responding wanting noise from her own throat, and no doubt the same want is written all over her face - at least until Yelena is kissing her again and taking it up another notch, too. Then it's her turn to gasp, and lose track entirely of what her expression might be doing. Kate'll sneak replying into the next break for air, because there's no way she's rushing that.
"Not assuming. Informed guess. But feel free to try and prove me wrong."
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Suddenly, that’s a lot more feeling than flirty banter, somehow.
“I can list those.”
It’s not such a strange statement, not even an odd sentiment, really, given the context of the conversation but… Yelena feels it catch him her chest at hearing it said so plainly, so easily, like it would just be so simple to point out a hundred little things she finds beautiful in her.
In mirrors, Yelena only sees the darkness in herself. She sees the blood on her hands that will never come clean. But somehow, despite everything she has done, she has this… this silly archer who has worked her way so deep under Yelena’s skin and doesn’t seem intent on leaving her any time soon.
And fuck, that clenches her chest tight, a deep ache around her ribs. She wants to say something, anything just to let her know how deep this all runs but… she can’t find the words. Turns her focus to the physical, because actually it’s much easier than being truly honest in her feelings.
“I don’t think I want to…” she murmurs softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
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It distracts her a little, if she's honest, so she isn't entirely certain if she's following about what specifically Yelena is saying she doesn't want to do. Kate tilts her head to lightly press their foreheads together again, aiming for soothing more than excited now with the stroke of her hand on Yelena's back. "Okay, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Are you okay? Did I say something that upset you?"
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She smooths her thumb across the high rise of Kate’s cheek, and she presses a soft kiss to her lips, barely more than a press of her lips against Kate’s, a ghost echo of a kiss. “You didn't do anything wrong. Why would you think that?”
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Kate slid both hands to Yelena's lower back, lacing her fingers together there. "What were you saying you don't think you want to do? I'm sorry. I was way too distracted by kissing you, I can't even remember half of what I've said in the last ten minutes."
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“In a good way, I mean,” she clarifies, reaching up to tuck a stand of hair behind Kate’s ear. “But I’m just… not used to it. It can be a little overwhelming sometimes, that’s all.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at herself, “It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”
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"It's not stupid, and you don't have anything to be sorry for. Totally the opposite, thank you for telling me. Please keep telling me if I'm being overwhelming, especially so I can keep it from becoming not in a good way."
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She reaches for Kate’s hand, playing with each individual finger as she tries to explain, “It’s like… you know that second you drop from the top of a hill on a rollercoaster? It’s intense and terrifying and fun all at once… you make me feel like that all the time.”
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"You're incredible. Magnetic. Hella interesting. Made to be worshipped, probably."
Kate smiles, metaphorically melting even more at those words. How is it that she has that effect on Yelena? That doesn't sound like it should even be possible. "Yeah, I know that feeling. You make me feel like that all the time, too."
"Or, you know. Like I'm being tossed off a roof or something." Is that a bad joke? Hopefully that's not a bad joke.
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Whatever she’d expected, somehow those things weren’t it. She knows she is good at the flirting and the banter, but the rest? She’s utterly clueless. So, it’s kind of nice to know maybe she’s not fucking up too much so far.
She snorts a laugh, “Ohmygod, you are terrible,” but she can’t really stop laughing either. So it’s obviously not too bad.
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She's not fucking up at all, so far. If Kate knew Yelena were even considering that as an option, she'd have gone on for at least another five minutes coming up with words.
Success. "What?" Kate asks, making the most innocent face she's capable of, "It's a very similar type of feeling, I found out. Or at least it was the first time. I haven't checked to see if it stays that way."
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“Maybe you don’t test this theory any time soon, yes?” she chuckles lightly, shaking her head slightly.
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"No, you don't think I should? Damn." Kate shakes her head, a very exaggerated serious expression on her face, "I already put up a ad on craigslist for someone to help me find out. You wouldn't believe how many hits 'seeking: throw me off a roof' has gotten."
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Anyone who would do so would be subject to dealing with Yelena herself. Most people are smart enough not to want that, hopefully.
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"I feel like I should make sure you knew I was completely trolling when I claimed I'd actually put up an online ad for that."
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“I knew that,” said with all the bluster of someone who maybe absolutely did not realize that at all.
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"If it were real, yeah, I think I'd pay them something."
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The frown on her face says it all, but she lets her mouth do a little more, “You would pay them to be thrown off a roof? Kate, that is insane,” she snorts a laugh.
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It is insane, Yelena's right. This is probably in the running for one of the most bonkers things Kate has ever said, and yet she's gonna stick with it. "I mean, it'd be rude to ask them to do it for nothing, wouldn't it?"
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“Would it? I mean, if for some reason someone feels so strongly about throwing you from a roof, it sounds like they are already ahead on getting something out of this. Paying them only makes it worse.” Not that any of this even matters, since it’s just something Kate said off the top of her head and decided to stick with.
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"Maybe they don't feel that strongly about the throwing someone off a roof part of the ad though, maybe they just need any job they can get. What if that's the only way they can buy dinner for their kids that day, if they take the throw-a-rich-girl-off-a-roof gig?"
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She laughs and shakes her head. “Okay, this is too much,” she waved one hand, dismissive, “new topic.”
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"What do you want to talk about?"
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It’s with that question that she pulls Kate closer, the kiss she tugs her into is full of tongues and teeth and the kind of need found in bedrooms of teenagers— but, hell, she skipped that part of growing up, and maybe she deserves a taste of that, too.
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Better her mouth is kept busy - just about best case scenario that her mouth is kept busy like this. She doesn't even have any embarassment left about the sound she makes against Yelena's mouth, overwhelmed for the first few seconds of this kiss. The want from before their conversational break kicks back in quickly, though, and that kicks her into gear to match Yelena's energy, give as good as she's getting. She settles her hands on Yelena's thighs, running her thumbs back and forth lightly, and sits up a little straighter to try and deepen the kiss even more, to better chase the taste of Yelena.
@so_no_plan
———
She goes completely silent for nearly two weeks. Her phone seems to be disconnected, no one really seems to have heard from her.
It’s probably pretty jarring to walk into his own flat, which he knows he left quite distinctly both empty and locked when he left it last night… to find a lithe blonde passed out on his couch. She doesn’t seem to notice the sound of the key in the door or the soft squeal of the lower hinge as the door is pushed open; she doesn’t hear the soft, light footsteps as he moves around either.
She looks at peace in her sleep, at least. It makes her really look her age. Makes her seem smaller, somehow. So still, quiet and relaxed in a way she never is when she’s awake. Like this, she could almost pass for a typical 20-something.
Almost.
She still has tactical boots on, a knife tucked inside of one of them. Her hair is swept up in a messy ponytail and has no less than three other blades hidden on her person somewhere.
The tv is on low, little more than a soft murmur of sound so the room isn’t completely silent. He can either wake her up or let her come to in her own time— depends on what he thinks is worth more: Letting Yelena actually get some sleep or finding out why she’s here.
Re: @so_no_plan
He definitely remembers locking his door, so finding it unlocked is a little strange. He doesn't often get visitors, aside from Barton coming over to harass him and bring him pizza. He knows that Barton is also at the debriefing though, so he steps into his apartment with caution. Looking around, he spots her. Yelena is fast asleep on his couch. That explains the door.
Bucky drops his bag on the counter, making sure to not be too quiet. He's positive that she's clocked him being home already, and just written him off as a non-threat. He knows what it's like, sleeping lightly, just in case. But she knows that she's safe here, and if she doesn't want to wake up just yet, then who is he to force it on her.
She's been away for two weeks now doing who knows what, so if Yelena wants to sleep in a safe place, Bucky isn't about to stop her.
Instead, he puts his groceries away and settles into the chair to finish his book.
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So for a bit, Bucky can enjoy his book in peace. But eventually she slowly starts to stir. An annoyed growl first, reaching blindly for the first thing her hand lands on— a tiny throw pillow, which she immediately shoved against the side of her head.
A deeper, more resigned groan is next as she huffs and shoved the pillow under her head instead, tilting her head to squint over at Bucky perched in his chair. “Your couch is trying to eat me,” as evidenced by the way she managed to wedge one leg between the cushions in her sleep.
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He slips a bookmark between the pages of his book and sets it down on the table next to him. "Kinda surprised to find you here. You can't warn a guy? What if I had someone here with me," he teases. She probably knows that he wouldn't, since Steve is busy with the Avengers. Their relationship isn't a well kept secret, even though they don't openly share it either.
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She snorts softly at that. "What warning did you need? Was me on your couch not enough?" What kind of spy would she be if she went around warning everyone every time she planned to swing by? Honestly. "Oh, no, I might see you chastely kiss your husband!" she pretends to be clutching pearls she isn't wearing. "The scandal!" she laughs at her own joke, grinning at him all the while.
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"If you think that all me and Steve do in here is kiss chastely, then you are very misinformed about our relationship." Neither he nor Steve are loose lipped about their relationship, choosing to keep things pretty private, but he's never once let anyone believe that they're not fucking like rabbits the moment they head back home together. "If word got out that we're not innocent old grandfathers, it might actually be a scandal."
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She laughs, and it’s a raucous thing, loud and uninhibited. “Oh my God, I want to read the TMZ article they would do! It would be so funny.”
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He agrees with her on her second point, though, since that article would be hilarious to read. "I feel like no one would believe it, even with photographic proof. Steve is so good at playing the boy scout that no one even suspects that he lives in a den of sin."
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"They would say one of you was a stand-in, or it was actors or oohh-" she's literally bouncing on the couch now with her excitement at the sudden thought in her mind, "Oh, have you seen the musical? It is hilariously terrible."
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"We're not talking about the musical. I can't believe they used our vows in it. And not only that, they made 'Steve' say them to Peggy instead." Bucky shakes his head. It's really upsetting to him, because history has rewritten him into some sort of side kick instead of Steve's partner. They're married now, but they would have back then too, if it was legal.
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She wrinkles her nose at that little tidbit of information. "Oh, I did not know they really used your real ones, that's disgusting." And kind of a double-down of insulting, given the way they ended the play, actually. "Can't you sue them or something?" she asks, tipping her head a little to one side.
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"Is it worth it? They're just gonna tell the story that they want to anyway," Bucky shrugs. "So. What brings you over?"
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“We should watch them anyway, and you can tell me how wrong it is and throw popcorn at the screen about it.” Because if there is one thing this man needs more of in his life, it’s fun.
She shrugs at the question. “I was in town and I thought I would stop by.” It’s not an outright lie, but conveniently is also not the whole truth, either.
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Once satisfied that he has everything and is ready to go, Peter closes the window behind him, pulls down his mask, and swings into the night, repeating the address Yelena gave him in his head so he doesn't forget it.
For the time it takes him to arrive, Peter lets himself enjoy being alone, just him, swinging into the open air. There really isn't any feeling in the world like it.
He arrives in fairly good time, landing on a fire escape before knocking at the window he thinks is Yelena's, holding up the bottle of hot sauce, as promised. Otherwise, this will be awkward for Yelena's neighbors, oops.]
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I could hear you from a mile away- you need to work on your stealth, Peter Parker.
[Criticisms aside, her eyes light up at the bottle he’s held out for offer and she opens the widow to let him in properly.]
Did I mention you are my favorite?
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[He sighs and his shoulders sink when she says that she heard him a mile away.] Yeah, that's definitely a work in progress. I think I have too much fun swinging and I let it get the better of me.
[He climbs in through the window, beaming under his mask.] You might have, once or twice. I still love hearing it though.
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Good, because I do not think I will stop yet. [She leads the way away from the window and further into her flat, leaving the hotsauce on the counter in the kitchen.] You want something to eat? A soda? Are we drinking? I don't know. What are we doing, Pyotr?
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[Peter follows Yelena into the kitchen, removing his mask as he does.] Soda and a snack would be great, thanks! I guess we're making it up as we go?
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She nods with a soft hum as she grabs two sodas from the fridge, along with a fruit tray because no one said snacks can't also sometimes be healthy.] That sounds about right, I suppose.
[She pops the tab on her Coke and grabs a glass and a bottle of whisky from a shelf in the kitchen. If they're making it up as they go, she's having an actual drink.]
You want? [She offers, holding the bottle out to him. No judgement if he says no- whisky is hardly an "everyone's thing" sort of drink.]
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[Peter watches as she grabs a whiskey from the kitchen. He's fine with just his soda, though part of him is curious. He's never had an alcoholic drink before.
He shakes his head when she offers, though he appreciates the offer all the same.] Thanks but I'm good. Maybe next time.
[He'd love to try a drink, but right now he's happy with just soda.]
From here https://crazycanoe.dreamwidth.org/1729.html?thread=289217#cmt289217
She misses Natasha too, and she's proud of her, and she hates herself for not stepping in when she could have. And she's angry that Nat never called her for help. And she's furious that Red Room took everything from her girls and gave them a future that was destined to be filled with complexity and pain. She is so ill prepared to help with that.
Melina hadn't been prepared for hearing 'mom' or 'mommy.' How could she know the surge she would feel in her chest for her girls being hurt or being excited. They were so eager and smart and open to the world that she'd almost forgotten that the whole thing was a charade sometimes. She'd failed her mission because she'd loved her family.
"I know. I miss her too. So much it feels like part of me is gone and what's left just hurts."
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It's weak. It's childish. She hates herself for it and the way it goes against everything she's been taught and raised to be... but she curls into Melina, "It isn't fair," she mumbles against her mother's shoulder; she knows it's stupid to say- nothing has ever been fair in her life- but it's all she can think, "Why couldn't it be someone else?" Anyone else at all. Just not Natasha.
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Oh, there was a question. When did fairness ever enter into things? Had their choosing been fair? It was just random ugliness.
"She ran from the wolf and ran into the bear." It was an old proverb, older than her by far, but just as true. Natasha had tried to leave her past behind her and wound up running into something even more deadly. She became a hero and sacrificed herself to save everyone. Oddly the thought made her smile even in her sadness, she smiled in pride.
"Our Natasha, she couldn't come to holiday dinners or barbecues, but she could travel across the universe and give her life to save so many. It is unfair how badly she makes the rest of us look."
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"Stupid bear," she mumbles as she pulls away slowly, swiping her hands under her eyes to wipe away any evidence of her tears.
That at least gets a laugh out of her, brittle and shaky, but immensely better than crying. "Honestly..."
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And to see Yelena laugh even a little lifted her heart. Melina wiped away the tear trail off Yelena's cheek with the back of her knuckle.
"She has given us a chance to make her proud, we will do this, yes?" She lifted Yelena's chin and gave her a solid look expecting an answer.
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And she had.
And it had been an absolute disaster.
But Yelena wouldn’t trade her family for anything in the world. They were hers, the rest didn’t matter.
She lifts her gaze to meet Melina’s. “You’re going to make me cry more,” she complains, a tiny pout on her lips, but she nods, gives her the answer she was waiting for, “Yes… we- we will. We can track the other Widows down, reverse the subjugation, give them new identity. New lives… it’s what she would want.” She blinks back the tears trying to build again. “You will help me, won’t you, Mama?”
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"No, no crying. It gives wrinkles."
She took her shoulders and gripped them firmly. "I am with you, and we will help our sisters. No one need suffer what the program has put them through ever again."
And she could help with the chemical and mental programming aspects of what had been done, she was in a unique position to undo the damage she'd caused. Not something she'd ever thought she could do but the world was a different place now than it had been years ago.
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Doesn’t stop her eyes from glistening at the agreement to do what they can for the other women trapped in the schemes of the Red Room. “We can fix it,” she nods, fingers of one hand lingering on her mother’s wrist at her shoulder. “together…” how they should have been all along.
TFLN » 12/29/23
2. It's gotten to the point where waking up in my own apartment is a surprise.
3. Midnight run for medical supplies ended several hours later with a lapdance, so I can't complain.
4. We are arguing over whose family is more dysfunctional...
5. Text her; assumed CR/misfires welcome!
@brushpass » 4
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thank you!
You know, I think at the end of the day, it has to be vampire. Only being able to go out at night wouldn't change my ability to do my job much.
And I don't think I'd like being at the whims of a werewolf transformation.
What about you?
no problem <3
If anything, it would be much more helpful. Especially these vampires. Interrogations would be SO MUCH FASTER.
Definitely vampire for me, too. And NOT just because you said so. Vampires are just cooler, and sexier. No furballs for me.
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And the furball thing.
Do you know what makes me laugh though? When the vampires have super speed but nobody's hair gets messed up in transit.
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It must be part of the blood contract: magic hair.
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You know, I might be prepared to sign a blood contract for magic hair. That's not a bad perk.
@rust » 4
haha I knew I liked you for a reason.
»
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[ alexei's fine, but he could stand to get a little ribbing from time to time. ]
what brought the fight on anyway?
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[Yelena is VERY Pro-Alexei getting extra ribbing from other people.]
I don't know, you know how it is... One person says something, someone else says another, and then family dinner is ruined because the knives have come out.
Anyway, what are you doing these days, old man?
Are you retired yet?
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[ kidding aside, though: ]
i'm trying to stay retired, but the world can't seem to stop fucking up long enough to let me have my peace. it's fine. what about you? family doing well with the side gigs?
any side gigs?
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@captainavenger
———
Yelena, true to her word, shows up at Steve’s that evening. She hopes he doesn’t ask why she is there, she isn’t sure how to put it into words. It’s just— he’s one of the few people that really knew her sister. The woman she had become in the years she had been apart from her. It’s complicated, but grief always is, isn’t it?
She's glad he is amenable to the idea at any rate. It’s better, not being alone, when she can afford the luxury of it.
She grabs one of the small throw pillows and hugs it toward her, “We should watch a movie or something,” she suggests, settling in the corner of the couch.
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Most evenings he spent texting Bucky, or diving into the internet for more information on the wealth of things that had changed between when he hit the ice and now. It wasn't easy to catch up. He was doing his best, but he often felt like a stranger, a man out of time. That's one of the reasons why he got along with Natasha so well-- she had her own solid demons, but played it off. She let him in, even when he made mistakes. She accepted him.
When Yelena shows up and makes herself comfortable, Steve grabs a couple of beers and brings them to the couch with a bags of chips and dip. Food is always good with company. "A movie sounds good. Anything you're interested in? Horror, Comedy, Fluffy?"
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Yelena happily accepts the beer that he offered her, opening it for a sip before she said, “Why don’t we watch one of your favorite ones? From when movies were still so new,” she teases with a grin.
“I mean it, though- I like old movies.”
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Steve's from another generation, and he's still out of time and place. It's easier to sit in silence and enjoy a beer and some food with a movie than force out a strange conversation about a nothing topic.
Taking a sip of his own beer, Steve smiles and laughs. "Movies were exactly new, but they were mostly still in black and white. I have been watching mostly newer things, but I do have one of my very favorites from the forties.
Picking up the remote, Steve goes to his movie collection through his computer on the TV, something Clint set up for him and pulls up Casablanca. "A classic so i'm told, and also one of my favorites." He leans back, takes another sip and smiles as the title screen comes up.
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“I like Cary Grant- he has some funny ones.” she settles a little more now, sinking a little heavier again the cushions behind her.
Her face lights up just a little when she says abruptly, “Oh! Do you have any popcorn?” She graces at him and scrunches her nose slightly, “You like the taste of beer enough to drink it even though it does not give you any kind of buzz?”
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He was too sick to do that much drinking though. Maybe that's why he enjoyed it so much now. Not to mention the guys always had beers after going out on assignment. He sighed and nodded. "I have both popcorn and yes, I do like it enough. It's a habit, and a remembrance to those I lost. I think." He lifts his beer and thinks of the guys, but then takes a sip with a smile and gets up.
Going to the kitchen, he sets to make popcorn. Tapping on the kitchen counter, Steve waits the three minutes then comes back with a bowl full of the stuff. "I can't believe how easy it is to make popcorn now. It really amazes me."
@kentuckian
----
Oooh I like the 90 Day Fiance, they are CRAZY on that show
Aaand the 1000-lb Sisters, they are HILARIOUS
Sometimes you just have to have something on for noise, you know? No brainpower required.
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i actually think i caught berto watching the fiance one once or twice
it did seem to be pretty crazy even by my standards
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Ooh we should compare weird and crazy standards of things because of having very weird, no at all normal lives.
You pick a topic and I’ll give you my answer. Then you say yours and I pick a topic
A slightly more difficult version of word association, sort of
Maybe not really
But you get the idea
@rust
–––
It is fine. I will come.
But why are you IN the hospital? What happened?
[And, like- why does anyone think he needs a hospital? Do these people not know he is a super soldier? How bad does it have to get when someone with such accelerated healing needs a whole hospital trip?]
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i'm undercover. cover's still intact. i'm also not supposed to be here.
[ he's breaking - broken - a bunch of rules included in his conditional pardon, okay. ]
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Am I breaking you out of the hospital or am I coming in as family member making a scene or what is best to keep your cover in tact?
@endof_theline
–––
You are really unhelpful for someone asking for my help, you know?
Even if he says anything else, that will be the last text he gets from her because she has to go throw a new outfit on before heading down to the precinct to bail him out. She's always got some kind of bail money set aside because- well- that's just the kind of life she and those closest to her lead, okay? It's just smart planning, at a certain point.
In the kind of way only Yelena can manage, she swans in and charms the absolute hell out of the people dealing with the most boring aspects of this job. She makes a soft enough demand of getting him out on bail that it's almost impossible for them to deny her.
"Who are you in relation to Barnes, anyway, sweetheart?" the man she'd been discussing everything with asks as he taps some information into his computer.
She leans an elbow on the counter and props her chin in her hand, "Can you keep a secret?" she stage-whispers conspiratorily.
"Sure," he says, amused as he glances back up at her. "I'm good at that."
"We're in something of a.... how you say... situationship. Very complicated and messy, but... worth it," she emphasizes those words with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows, "if you know what I mean," she completes the thought with a quick wink sent his way.
He chuckles lightly and nods, "I think I do," he finishes up what he was doing and says, "Officer Robins will take you the rest of the way, ma'am."
Saying Sorry
To her neighbours Anne Darceneaux was just a typical businesswoman, one whose work frequently took her away for long periods of time. Indeed, none of them had seen her for several years, until one day she had turned up again out of the blue, much to the delight of Pierre Thompion in the apartment across from hers who'd lingered on the landing this evening so as to try and flirt with his beautiful neighbour.
Brushing him off gently in fluent French, Anne unlocked her apartment door, hefting the bag of groceries as she closes it behind her, her gaze briefly catching on the mirror by the entrance, a sigh escaping her as she studied the reflection of Anastasia Petrova, a twinge of remorse making her break eye contact with the reflection after only a moment.
Six weeks now, six weeks of living another's life, of waiting in hope that the widow that she'd nearly killed years before might show up. She'd give it another couple of months, maybe tip off some more underworld contacts if that didn't work, but failing that she would be at a dead end.
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Petrova has been more difficult to place than she had hoped. Yelena hopes it doesn’t mean she has been killed before she could be saved. She would not be the first, nor likely the last, who turned up that way, after all.
But finally, after what felt like forever, she’s tracking movement of her. This has always been the fun part of the job to her. Sure, she likes the fight as much as anyone, but this? It’s where she shines, she thinks.
As Anastasia enters the apartment, distracted by something in the mirror — for a moment, Yelena thinks she’s caught her, but whatever it was, it was brief and did not hold her attention. Nothing immediately seems off, things are still in the places they they are meant to be. Nothing looks particularly ransacked. But there is a heaviness that hangs in the air of the room.
Yelena still waits, hidden well in her spot, refusing to move a single muscle, waiting instead for her target to move closer.
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Thump, thump, thump...
A heartbeat. One that Anastasia Petrova's ears could not pick up, but which is easily apparent to her own superior hearing. Anticipation instantly replaces boredom, the knowledge of who it must be causing a rising thrill mixed with worry about how this encounter will go down. Will she be forgiven? Was wearing this face a mistake? Questions she'd been asking herself for weeks bubbling up in her mind in a tsunami of anxiety. But there's absolutely no indication in Anastasia's body language that she's noticed anything, and she continues through the apartment into the kitchen, depositing the bag on the kitchen counter, still for a moment before she speaks.
"I know you are there, I do not wish to fight." She says, Anastasia's voice, her true Russian accent readily apparent, is entirely calm, as if discussing the weather over a coffee. Turning her head she looks right at where Yelena has concealed herself, not seeing her yet, but sure of her hiding spot.
"I have pain au chocolat, they are I think very good."
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She ignores the comment about the pain au chocolat for the moment. Maybe when this is over, though…
Yelena also doesn’t trust how calm she is being. It’s a stark difference from how the others before her reacted to Yelena’s sudden presence in their lives. She is still on guard, hackles raised, and ready to spring into action the second it’s necessary.
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"I'm sorry but Anna is dead, she has been for six years." She held up her hands to show she meant no harm, her expression sorrowful and apologetic. Perhaos it wasn't the best thing to lead with but she wanted to be honest, even at the cost of potentially getting attacked. It's not hard to miss the whipchord readiness in Yelena's posture, and keeps her own entirely relaxed and unthreatening,
"Please, I'm just here to talk."
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She pulls a gun from a holster at her hip and aims it at the woman in front of her. "Who are you, if you are not Anastasia?" And how the fuck does she look exactly like how Yelena remembers her? She's not attacking, not yet, but she's definitely much more guarded suddenly.
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At her question the likeness of the widow melts away, blonde hair turning black, skin and clothing twisting like putty and in the blink of an eye someone entirely different stands in front of Yelena, a dark haired young woman in casual jeans and a green sweater, the only thing that hasn't changed is her apologetic expression.
"My name's Gemini. I was tasked with killing a widow and after you escaped me in Bangkok I tracked down Anastasia." She sighs regretfully, both for the widow's fate and for the horror of what she put Yelena through. "Please do not run, I'm not here to hurt you." She repeats, hands still up, trying to convey in her tone that she's not lying.
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Yelena's mind is moving a warp speed, but she does catch the two things that interest her most: taksed with killing a widow and-- "Bangkok?" It's been so long, but she remembers it in a sort of perfect clarity. "Suka," she swears, "And you think that I am going to believe any of this? That somehow it is okay? You are insane!"
But she doesn't know how to handle the situation now. She's still reeling from watching her melt into whoever is standing in front of her now. From watching her skin simply snap back from what would easily kill anyone else. So she's just standing in the middle of the kitchen, livid and terrified all at once, and a little rooted to the spot just now.
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"My name is Gemini." She says soothingly, holding up her hands to try and pacify Yelena. "I used to work for HYDRA. They knew about the Red Room and ordered me to infiltrate his operation. That's why I attacked you." She spoke quickly, trying to get over what she needed to and prevent the fight or flight instinct from kicking in.
"I know it's not ok, I remember what I did to you and I want you to know how sorry I am." Her memories of the fight with Yelena were crystal clear, of ambushing her in the shape of something truly nightmarish, of deliberately drawing out the chase for her own sick enjoyment, drinking in Yelena's fear and desperation, as she failed to harm the creature hunting her, relishing every injury she inflicted and then taking Yelena's shape to .mock her before the final kill. The memory was so strong it made her physically flinch in disgust, the only relief being that she hadn't managed to add the widow to the long list of her victims.
@endof_theline
Something else tonight would be good.
Do you have any ideas?
Places you want to visit or anything?
New York does night life SO well, honestly.
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But I know that's not really your thing.
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But it doesn’t hurt to go out once in awhile.
We could go dancing, maybe?
Didn’t you used to do that, back in the day?
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I did, yeah.
But dancing was a lot different back then.
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There's so much in this city, surely we can find someplace to do the foxtrot.
You can teach me your old moves.
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Mostly, I just want the time with you.
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I will find a place, and it'll be fun.
Are we counting being mixed into a crowd as in front of one, or is that a safe option?
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I can work with these things.
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And I'll be with you.
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I'm just. You know. Me.
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You never have to be someone else with me, solnyshko.
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I don't know.
Sometimes I feel like I hold you back.
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Why do you say that?
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And you make compromises to do things out with me.
You’ve come so far, and being social isn’t easy for everyone and that’s okay.
You aren’t holding me back from anything, I promise.
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Haven't I always been before?
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But I also know you don't wanna hurt me, and maybe you think that will.
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Yes, I do not want to hurt you, but... in my opinion, given our histories, lying would be more harmful in the end.
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You're right.
I just worry, I guess. It gets stuck inside my head.
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It’s okay, I get it. I can do that about things sometimes, too.
It is a very specific and narrow view the both of us have of the world at large.
We can always talk things through, though, any time you want or need to.
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I feel like you handle it so much better than I do. And I know it's not because you have a different experience, but you're just bright and alive despite it all.
And here I am, being such a downer, getting stuck up here for reasons I should be able to move past.
And it's hard for me to talk about because it sounds so terrible.
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I like it.
After our respective captured with our agencies, I was technically more socialized than you.
Not in good ways, necessarily, Dreykov did like putting us girls against each other just as much as he wanted to make sure we could work in tandem as units.
But until you became close to me… until we broke out, you were so much more isolated.
I am not laying excuses at your feet, solnyshko, but it is an understandable thing that sometimes the social situations are more overwhelming for you, in my opinion. Moving past things is not easy. And you have come so far from before. Don’t discourage yourself.
Words are hard. Explaining feelings is even worse.
But I can listen. And I will not judge you.
I love you, moy soldat. I would do anything for you.
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I know you're right- and I'm lucky to have you.
I'm sorry you have to talk me off a ledge like this. But I promise I'll try to stop discouraging myself.
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And I, you. Even if you do not always believe it. I would not be who I am without you.
You would do the same for me.
I know it is easier said than done. But trying is all I ask.
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That's definitely true for me too.
I would. I'd do anything for you.
I really will try my best. Thanks for helping me.
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I know you would.
Of course. You can always talk to me.
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Let's go out and do something. I'm feeling better about it now.
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Have you ever been rollerskating?
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All I know about rollerskating is that in 1937 there was a bus carrying a roller derby team that caught on fire and 20 people died.
...but I've been ice skating before.
thank you, my soldier;
Oh my god, really? That's terrible...
Ohhh, I haven't been ice skating in sssooo long. It would be fun, right?
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It could be fun. You've gotta bundle me up though, cause you know how much I hate the cold.
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Do not worry, I will bundle you up the most.
Just have to leave you enough mivesbility you can still skate.
@pursuitofcappiness
haha I suppose I could see that
He makes me feel old sometimes and I am not even that much older than him....
Oh, yes, you are much more clear about it than the sourpuss
Mr. Lineface 😐
I'm not sure your bestie would know a joke if it punched him in the face
@endof_theline
I feel the same, moy soldat.
It sounds strange to say, but I think in a way, my life really started that first da I snuck into your cell.
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It's all I remember too.
There was nothing before you.
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Better than anything else either of us has been through.
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...
With you coming back to bed?
move to action, or no?
yes sure, if you want to!
❤️
"Miss me?" she murmurs softly into his ear, her cheek pressed against his own.
Re: ❤️
Not completely though, because there was always trepidation and fear, and the Soldier doesn't always know how to act- but when she climbs into bed, pressing close to him, he can't imagine this could be wrong.
"I did". he answers plainly, pressing back against her. 'i always miss you when you're not around
.
Re: ❤️
Yelena settles there with him, pressing her forehead against the back of his neck and just breathing him in. She knows it won’t last, but these small moments of peace are a blessing she wants to soak in.
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The next thing he learned was relief, which is what he's feeling now as she settles in against him. He can let go of the outside world for a moment when she's curled around him.
"You're chilly." He nuzzles her, tightening his arms around her to warm her up.
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"It is very cold," she agrees with a nod against him. She presses her lips in a soft kiss at his shoulder.
mistletoe things...that might have to do with the stray start i'm sending your way later
Daisy likes Yelena and seeing she isn't at the holiday party, it makes her decision an easy one as she puts in a little face time, grabs some goodies, steals a sprig of mistletoe and some vodka before deciding to head to Yelena's instead. It's all without a text to let her know she's on her way so she kind of feels a rise of anxiousness for a moment, thinking that maybe dropping by is a stupid idea and Yelena won't hesitate to tell her so.
But. Maybe it isn't.
"Open up, I have presents!" It comes after a quick three knock pattern, to try and entice Yelena in opening up the door. "And it's cold!"
👀 ; stay;
Which, of course, is when the knock comes on her door.
She isn’t expecting anyone and it brings a touch of a frown to her features. “Ostavat’sya,” she murmurs quietly to Franny, who perks up at the knock, but does as asked with familiar command; she still watches Yelena very closely as she goes to answer the door.
The knock, rhythmic in the same way twice, comes again and this time a voice is accompanied with with it. A voice Yelena recognizes, which drops all of her hackles as she yanks the door open, “Daisy Johnson, what are you doing here?”
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It would've been worse, because at least Yelena has her dog.
"I saw you didn't get dragged to the party, so I brought the party to you," she's holding up the arm full of items she stuffed in a decorative bag she'd taken on her way out so she had a way of holding everything and tries to move it enticingly for Yelena. "It's not a bad time, right?"
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Still, she isn't actually denying her entry into her apartment, as she side-steps to give her space to walk in and Yelena locks up behind her. Locks make her feel better, even if she knows, given her specific line of work, they are essentially useless.
"Did you bring half of the snack table with you?" she asks, amused. "No, no bad time. Just a boring one... which will be less so, now that you are. here." she snaps in Franny's direction, which gives her permission to finally leap from the couch and run over to sniff at Daisy's shoes and lick her knee. Just dog things, you know.
@dadguardian
That does sound like him, I will admit.
Good. It would be very embarrassing for me if you were.
@dysmorphics
I would like to to hear this list.
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Are you?
/cracks open the headcanon can
He found a home in America and spends most of his days watching TV, absorbing that very same culture he'd feigned to be part of in the 90s. His job just barely pays enough to cover the bills. When one has fallen so far, even getting out of bed in the morning is a chore, but he's no quitter. He keeps going, because there's still one person left of their little family who pays visits every so often. He can't let Yelena down.
Those visits are hard to predict, though. Right now, he's wrapped up deeply in a Seinfeld marathon (good, harmless, American fun), while trying to clumsily eat some leftover noodles straight from the take-out box. Red Guardian, ladies and gentlemen!
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Saving the other Widows was at least a purpose to work toward, but the ones left had proven impossible to find, already dead, or they had saved already. Watching them wake up never got any easier, either. She dreams of it, and of the things she had done under Drekyov's intense control after Natasha had defected.
Her family barely exists now; Natasha is gone, Yelena isn't even sure where Melina is, and her father... well. At least she can still drop in on him from time to time, yes?
She doesn't bother knocking, instead she simply picks the locks on his door and slips inside. Perhaps not the smartest move, but... he is old, and not near as spry as he once ways, so even if he tries to attack her for catching him off-guard, she does not doubt her ability to dodge it. "Hi, dad..." she says from behind the couch before she moves around it to sink down onto it next to him.
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"Yelena! You did not tell me you were coming...!" he says, his voice louder than usual from surprise and just a sprinkling of embarrassment. His house is pretty messy right now and the noodles... Well, he'll set them down on the table with one swift motion, hoping they won't be questioned.
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She slips her shoes off and scoots them under the table, out of the way, and wraps her arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest. She looks so small and so much younger than she really is when she does things like this. Maybe it's habit, in a way, old automatic actions she falls into around him because of the dynamic she remembers from Ohio.
"What are you watching?" she asks, not really interested in the answer, but needing to break the silence.
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"Jerry Seinfeld. Famous American comedian. We would watch this sometimes, in Ohio. Do you remember?"
Not that Alexei watched it in quite the same light back then. 'Ridiculous Western propaganda', that was what he'd thought. Nowadays, sentiments like that have lost their meaning.
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"What is it even about? What does the funny man do?" her eyes are on the tv screen, but she's barely taking any of it in. "Maybe... I think I remember the weird one, with the hair that looks like he was shocked by electricity."
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Truly, he is sophisticated for watching this series. There are layers there to peel away. But more importantly, it makes him smile, and there are days where he needs that smile. Maybe it'll make Yelena smile too. He hopes so.
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For a few minutes, she just sits there with him and watches the tv show she is not actually paying attention to. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it could feel more like it did in Ohio. Maybe Mom and Natasha are just simply… picking up things for dinner at the store. It was easier for Melina to take their oldest daughter for things like that, let Alexei wrangle the little one for a little bit, instead.
But she can’t lie that well to herself; Natasha is gone. Melina is… wherever she is these days. It’s just the two of them on a couch in a messy flat, alone.
She shifts until she’s pressed against her father’s side, pushing until he takes the hint to loop his arm around her shoulders so she can hide her face against him. Hot tears well up in her eyes and spill against his shirt, but she doesn’t sob, she doesn’t make a sound at all. And maybe that makes it all the worse.
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When she presses up against him, it takes him by surprise, but he does understand the request just fine. It's because he understands the request that he's surprised in the first place. His arm settles around her shoulders to pull her against his chest and he assumes that to be the end of it, but... now his shirt is getting wet.
It takes him a long moment of debating (is this bear poking?) before he decides to throw the question out there: "Did something happen?"
@endof_theline
I think you are correct.
You know where my spare key is, if I am not out of the shower by the time you get here, yes?
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So take your time, I'll let myself in.
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I will see you soon xox
———
While he takes care of the rest, Yelena goes to find her painkillers to toss down her throat before she gets into an incredibly hot shower to help wash away some of the yuck that comes with a hangover.
She lingers for awhile, letting the near-scalding water help ease some of the knots in her shoulders; distantly, she has a thought about asking James to help press the rest of it out with a massage later.
She wanders out eventually in a black and pink pajama set she can be comfortable in. Her apartment is warm enough, she’s not cold despite being in shorts. She drags a brush through her hair and tosses it up in a claw clip out of the way.
“I smell bacon,” she says, sing-song in her tone, as she makes her way toward the kitchen.
@freights
I am not!
If you met her, you would understand.
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{A Character Study of Sam & Bucky through Yelena's eyes
––––
The last week has been rough. There is a lot swirling in her mind, still reeling from everything earlier in the week. Guilt has settled quite firmly between her ribs, and as a result, Yelena's mood has been... hard to read, at best, downright sour at worst. But it was all leading to this even harder day. Nothing could have prepared her for what she would witness that day.
The Thunderbolts– God, she hates that name, it is so objectively terrible– had been called to Cap's headquarters; some meeting of the minds about possible alien tech use in Greenland and a discussion of how to handle it, who should go, and if they might need to contact Captain Marvel or the Guardians for an assist.
She... barely remembers what was actually said because her focus had been on Sam and Bucky the entire time.
The tension that she felt spark like static in the room as soon as Bucky and Sam's eyes met across the room.
How awkward every inch of Bucky's body language was against Sam's seemingly very calm and ever-chill exterior.
Bucky was, somehow, quieter and frownier than usual.
He seemed like his attention was divided between the task at hand and something else.
Something around his eyes looked... blank, several times through the meeting- she's almost positive he was disassociating right in front of all of them.
He also wouldn't even dare to look at Yelena the whole time. Probably for the best, she isn't sure she could have kept herself contained if he'd tried to say a single thing to her.
Sam's stance showed a subtle shift when Bucky was near him. Usually, she'd noticed before, he faced him if not wholly, then he was still shifted toward Bucky, but that's all gone; it's not the most obvious cold shoulder ever, in fact it might be the most subtle one she's ever seen, but it's there in that tiny twist of his body toward the rest of the room, just that little bit away from Bucky.
To anyone- probably everyone- else in the room, Sam likely seemed... fine. Business as usual. He smiled. He joked. He laughed. He made plans and called shots. He was... perfectly Captain America-ing, in excellent form on the business front.
But his smile didn't reach his eyes.
His jokes didn't have the right amount of heart in them.
His laugh didn't sound as hardy as it usually did.
His arms were folded across his body most of the time, except when he was pointing to maps or similar.
His eyes were dull, and she didn't even know that could happen; his eyes always seemed a little bit like they were lit from the inside with starlight, but it was snuffed out now.
He was too well-focused on all of the business of everything, in a way that was more like seeking a hyperfixation to distract himself than anything else.
"Whatever you need, buddy," Barnes had said, at some point, in a voice so soft she could have missed it if she wasn't so goddamn focused on the two of them. He even dared to reach out and clap a hand on Sam's shoulder. "We're in your corner."
There was a smile on Sam's face, genuine, but not wide enough. Not bright enough. It didn't reflect in his eyes like it should have. "Thanks, pal," had come out of his mouth as smooth as ever... but he still pulled away from that hand on his shoulder, even if he played it off as getting Joaqín to come help him look at some coordinates.
The whole meeting had her stomach in knots. She barely spoke except when it was absolutely necessary. As soon as it was clear that whatever meeting they were having among all of them was over, and that some people were lingering in the way people often do when they don't want to be the first to leave? Yelena happily jumped to her feet and stomped out of the facility first.
––––
Back at her own apartment, she locks up behind herself and promptly flops down on her couch, greeted by Franny pushing her cold, wet dog snout right into Yelena's cheek. "Hey, baby," she murmurs softly. "You are so lucky you are a dog..."
As if she could understand her words, but was very confused by them, Franny tipped her head to one side, and then the other. Classic confused puppy face.
Yelena gave a single, weak, "Ha." of laughter, shifting her position on the couch to give her dog space to climb up with her. Maybe she'd be able to think of a way to set all of this right after a little sleep.
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So, a lot of people are dead or fucked up. He doesn't particularly feel like either, he thinks. But he can't start college now and he definitely can't go home, so when some rich lady figures him out and starts asking him to do things for her, he might aa well. A few years pass and hey, is he technically a spy now?
Who knows. All he really gets is the lines are starting to blur between the two shapes he can take because of working for Valentina, but he's okay with that, as long as he's useful and having an interesting time.
He's definitely going to have an interesting time today. The mission is dull as ever, but he's paired with a cute blonde with a great accent. He doesn't know much about girls or have non platonic feelings about them, but he knows this - everyone back home is going to be jealous. ]
So forget the mission, tell me about you. What incredible creature pushed you out and made you the painting you are?