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“So”, Kate started, sucking through her striped straw. It was made of plastic. She felt almost desleal touching it, but how else was she supposed to drink a milkshake? Using a spoon? (Or maybe, a voice whispered, sounding suspiciously like America’s, you should’ve just put one of those fancy bamboo straws you bought into your purse, instead of bragging about them to all your friends and Instagram followers). But whatever. Katherine Bishop was a dumb bitch slash hypocrite, and she was a hundred per cent fine with that. “had news about Clint lately?”
She tried her best to sound uninterested, like the fate of her former-mentor slash best friend wasn’t remotely relevant to her life. It was half wishful thinking and half resentment. He kept saying that she was the worst because she took the dog, but he was the one who held onto the pieces of their friendship so tightly that it disappeared like dust in the air.
Natasha, though, didn’t look fooled, and just sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kate. Clint is where you left him. In the apartment. With half your stuff, and Lucky’s water bowl.”
She really didn’t want to talk about that, about him, at all, but it was like she couldn’t help herself. It was an extra-corporeal experience. She was outside of her body, watching her feet going inside her fucking mouth, and couldn’t stop a thing. It was like a trainwreck. It was like the day she decided to leave. “I just thought that there would be something going on. You know how there’s a lot of people who want Clint dead, and they all make me look like a kitten.”
“Do you want to kill him?” Natasha asked, blandly, like she was talking about Kate’s favorite blend of tea. Truth be told, she was so cool and smooth, Kate didn’t even know anymore.
“Sometimes.” she answered, and sighed. “Mostly in the mornings, when I have to take Lucky outside to go pee. It used to be his job. I feel like it’s unreasonable that it’s mine now.”
“Well, to be fair, you were the one who took the dog.”
“I don’t want to be fair right now, Tasha, but thank you.” she said around a mouthful of Oreo milkshake. It was too sweet. It made her think of Clint, like everything did since she got back from shitty Los Angeles. “He fucking sucks.”
“He does.”
Natasha would know. She knew him forever, way before Kate was, like, even alive. “How old are you, anyway?”
“I don’t know, kid. Still young enough to kick your ass.”
“Sorry, sorry.” she muttered. “Mean question.”
Natasha leaned against her chair, looking to the world like a model resting after a successful photoshoot. Kate was jealous. She used to be a real model, before the superhero stuff, and actually drank green tea after appointments, and still no one would ever think to mistake her for someone so… Well.
Gorgeous, maybe.
“How was the west coast?” Natasha asked, taking pity on her. Kate wished that she could very discreetly fist-bump herself, since she didn’t even had to use her puppy dog eyes for Natasha to give up on being annoyed at her. It was a talent that Clint was always envious of; no one could be mad at her for long, while everyone kept wanting to kill him slowly.
“Hot. Also, traumatic. There was this lady… She wanted to kill me, long story short.”
“So, a thursday?”
“Pretty much.” she smiled. “Just superhero business, you know. Death threats, living out of old pasta, watering a few plants for money, having to bury some recently-made friends because some evil mastermind got their sticky hands on them…”
“It suddenly got a weird turn.” she blinked. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.” Kate grinned, and her hair waved in the air like Medusa. “Fucking Clint, anyway.”
“C’mon, boy”, she pleaded at the very indifferent dog, “just eat this food. I know it’s cat food, okay? But it’s fucking expensive, and I couldn’t just leave it in Los Angeles, could I?”
Lucky wasn’t impressed.
“You think living with Clint would be any better? He would be feeding you three days old bread. I swear it. He doesn’t have his shit together, Lucky. C’mon, eat the food. Please?” she begged, because she wasn’t proud anymore. She used to be, but that ship had sailed thirty minutes before she started crying, and that had been three hours before she started to plead.
Lucky looked like he was judging her. She felt very judged. “Fine. I guess you’re right, and I don’t have my shit together either. But we survived west coast together, buddy, didn’t we, you and I? We’re a team now. We’re a team, and you’re making your teammate cry. Is that what they teach you at the dog academy? Did you even go to a dog academy? Is that a real fucking thing?”
She started crying again. Lucky licked her face and ate the cat food.
Small mercies, maybe.
Tommy’s face on the screen was looking kind of blue. Kate was afraid of asking. “Are you, like, back at New York? For real?”
She smiled. “Yeah. Los Angeles sucked, dude. I worked so hard, you have no idea.”
“You? C’mon. You’re such a liar.” he laughed at her, because of course. No one believed that she was capable of taking care of herself. It used to make her real mad, but she was above that shit since going through hell. Still, she glared at him very angrily, and only stopped when he shut his dumb mouth.
“I did everything you can think of. I watered plants, I walked dogs, I fed cats, I did some private investigative work… The police now hates me, by the way. They said if I ever set foot on Los Angeles again they’ll have me convicted before I can say sorry.”
“Would you say sorry?”
“Hell no.” she answered, vehemently. She may had to eat her pride because of her dog, but she still had some fucking professional integrity remaining on her thin, purple-wearing body. Tommy just smiled.
“Had you talked to… You know. Lately?” he was saying words all hesitant, and for that only she wanted to help him out. He sucked at talking feelings. It was like Tommy really thought that he could pretend that Billy got all the heart in the family, and that, because of that, he was safe forever.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“You should, though. My mom is a therapist and she keep saying stuff like, bottling up is bad! You end up being a serial killer, a mass murderer, a Republican!” she laughed, mostly because it was what he wished she would do. Call her old fashioned, but Kate liked for her friends to be happy, all day, every week, almost as much as she loved keeping them out of her damn businesses.
“I’m going to call him, maybe. After I feel more settled. Nothing is… Very real, right now.”
“I get it, sister.” he nodded, wisely. “Stuff is hard.”
“Yeah.” she smiled. “It really fucking is.”
“You’re an independent bitch now!” America yelled, literally kicking down Kate’s apartment door. Lucky started barking as if possessed, like the faithful dog that he was. Kate only sighed. “What is it that I heard about you fending for yourself in the wilderness?”
“It was hardly the wilderness.” Kate answered her. She was feeling weirdly jet-lagged, even though she was in New Work for already more than a week. America rolled her eyes at her, not bothering to respond, and just went right ahead to the kitchen.
“Do you have glasses in this shithole? How are you living in a place like this? Don't you come from old money? Anyway, doesn’t matter. I bought wine, and it’s shitty, so we can just drink it right out of the bottle. It’s not like it’s going to be upset…”
“I’m poor now, America. Daddy officially cut me out.” she said, resting her head against the pillows again. She was sleeping on the couch, because it was much more comfortable than the only mattress she could afford. In the end, only Lucky slept on the bed, because he used to live on the streets and had no discernment whatsoever.
“Shit, for real?” she asked, looking more gleeful than shocked or sympathetic. Sometimes Kate wanted to slap her. This fucking girl, who used to be a literal princess, with literal queens as mothers, kept giving Kate shit for being raised rich. And Kate was the hypocrite? Because of a fucking straw?
“Yeah. The money will go to my stepmother, probably. Did I tell you that we used to go to school together?”
“No!” she laughed. “Is she this young?”
“Yeah, America! She fucking is! Twenty two!”
“Oh my God. Rich people. I have no idea how y’all live.”
“We live well, ‘Merica. We live really fucking well.”
America handed her the bottle. “Drink it up, Katie. You’re going to feel better tomorrow.”
“Doubtful, but thanks.” she answered, and drank. Lucky went back to sleep, and America started laughing again.
All in all, a nice way to start her day.
“When are going to be the wedding?” Kate asked, resting her cheek against her right hand. Billy was in front of her, looking proper and uncomfortable, like always. She smiled because oh, boy. How she missed him to death.
“Summer, maybe. I always liked the idea of a summer reception party? We’re still thinking stuff through, though. My mother… Well. You know how she is.”
“It’s going to be okay, Billy.” she held his hand between hers. “She’s going to get better, and be there. And she’s going to be so fucking pretty, you’re going to see. Everyone will be blinded. Pietro will, like, start crying for sure.”
He sighed. “Tommy is worried that maybe I’m going too fast. I mean, I guess I see his point? He keep saying that if we love each other so much, then we can wait a few more years before getting married.”
“Why wait, though?” she asked, perplexed. “Aren’t you in love?”
“Yeah! That’s exactly what I keep telling him. I’m in love with Teddy today, yesterday, tomorrow, whatever.”
“I think you should get married.” she told him, trying to sound very wise. It was made more difficult since she was wearing a Hello Kitty band-aid on her forehead, because she had hit her head on the kitchen shelves before leaving to meet Billy. Still, she powered through, and was rewarded with a smile. He missed her too, she knew. Los Angeles was hard on her, but it probably wasn’t easy to everyone else having to watch her drop out of the face of the Earth like she did during a few weeks there; it’s true that superheros don’t do the helpless thing very well. Still, it was all Madame Masque’s fault.
And Clint’s.
His too.
“I’m glad you’re back, Katie.” he said, grinning happily. Kate waved at the waitress (Juno? Julie? she was always bad with names), and asked for more grape juice for her, and plain water for Billy. “I thought you wouldn’t get back here.”
“What, New York?”
“Nah.” he said, looking a little rueful. “My life, probably.”
“Never, Billy.” she answered, vehemently, willing him to understand how serious she was. “You’re my friend! And I don’t kick my friends out of my life. It’s usually the other way around, if I'm honest with you.”
“I won’t kick you out, Katie.” he answered, softly, “and also, you’re my maid of honor.”
“Fucking knew it! Oh, boy, America is going to die—”
Kate woke up with someone pounding on her door, loudly and non stop. The clock by the TV said 3:01 AM, and Lucky was suspiciously silent, chasing whatever it is that dogs dream, dead to the world on his bed. He managed to kick the purple sheets out of the mattress, like he was a person instead of a canine. She thought it cute, and took a picture with her phone.
“What the fuck”, she whispered angrily, the way one do when they wish they could scream instead, opening the door, “do you think you’re doing? My neighbors are the kind who complain to the landlord!”
“You have my fucking dog.” Clint said, wet as a drowned rat. She realized, very suddenly, that it was raining down the sky outside of her windows.
“Get inside before you catch your death.” she answered, dragging him by his sleeve into the small, weirdly pinkish bathroom that doubled as a closet when she was too lazy to fold her clean clothes. She started to aggressively rub a towel on his head, even if he kept telling her that he could do it himself, thank you very much. Also, you’re a fucking maniac.
“What the fuck you doing here?” she repeated, crossing his arms in front of her torso. She was wet too, all because of Clint, which was just the metaphor that she needed to describe her life with him. “I was sleeping. How do you even know where I live?”
“Natasha told me.” he answered, like it was the most normal thing, stalking your ex-friends using the intel he got from a former superspy. Who was also his best friend. Whatever.
“Why are you here, Clint?”
“How is Lucky?”
“Sleeping. It’s 3AM.”
“Look, Katie…” he sighed. She wanted to yell don’t call me that like we’re still friends! but she didn’t, because it would be petty, and she really didn’t want to prove Clint right about her. “I was worried about you, okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Natasha said some pretty weird stuff about someone dying.”
“She misunderstood.” she lied, with the most straight of all faces. “Is that all? It’s late.”
“You could’ve called me.” he went on, because Clint had never met a topic he didn’t wanna try to talk to death.
“I really couldn’t.”
“I would’ve answered.”
“I wouldn’t have called, Clint.” she said, with all the patience of an older sister. “And I wouldn’t have cared.”
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
She blinked. “Are you fucking with me?”
“We can eat pizza tomorrow. For breakfast.” he looked hopeful, and sincere, and Kate hated him. He was her best friend and she hated him.
“Clint, what the fuck?”
“C’mon, Katie. It’ll be like the old days.”
“Oh my God.” she sighed. It was too late for this shit. 3AM, dude. What the hell. “Fine, whatever. But I’m sleeping on the couch. You can sleep on the shitty bed with Lucky. It’s behind that door.” she pointed, and went straight back to her pillows and covers, suddenly very much done with all that shit.
Fucking Clint.
“Thanks, Katie.” he said, softly, and closed the door behind him.
It took Kate a long time to fall back asleep.