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“You two are still fine with Laila coming up next weekend, right?”
Clint’s voice echoes in the silence of the loft. Yelena doesn’t look at the phone sitting on the counter as she raids the cupboards looking for the bag of coffee beans that she knows Kate brought home last week.
“Yelena?”
“Yes, Barton,” Yelena drawls, distracted. She releases a small, pleased puff of air as her fingers find purchase on a bag at the back of the shelf, “we will not leave her to fend for herself. She will be quite looked after.”
“I know, I’m not worried,” he says. “She’s pretty excited you and Kate will be coming with her to tour the college.
“Where is Kate anyway?”
“Lucky and Fanny were very anxious to go outside. She will be back soon.”
“Great, then I can tell you that the jeweler is done your order. Laura picked it up yesterday. We’ll send it over with Laila when she visits,” there’s a smile in Clint’s voice as he speaks, and it’s still there as he continues, though the tone sounds softer and more bittersweet, “Nat – she’d be really proud of you, Yelena. She would be so happy for you.”
Hand-pausing on the cap of the coffee grinder, Yelena allows herself a moment to swallow the sudden lump in her throat before she can answer. She’s grateful - not only for the archer’s sincere affirmations, but for the unhurried quiet that follows as he allows her the time to let it sink in. It’s in moments like these that she’s so immensely glad that she did not kill him.
Not that she will ever readily admit that to him.
“Kate has not said yes yet.”
“You and I both know she won’t say anything else.”
Yelena doesn’t have any response to that without agreeing with him, so she doesn’t comment on it at all. They spend the next few minutes indulging in some good-natured griping and snipping at each other before Nate breaks a lamp with a ball and Clint has to let her go. Silence descends on the loft as soon as the call disconnects, but it’s not long until it’s broken again by muted footsteps from the hall and the jingle of keys in the lock. The door explodes open in a flurry of sound and fur as two dogs force their way through the crack in the door, followed closely by a harassed-looking Kate Bishop.
“How was the dog park?”
Kate sighs, “Fanny was an angel.”
“This is expected,” Yelena says with a hum and a smirk, “and Lucky?”
“PD slipped out the gate and stole an entire pizza from a hipster.”
Yelena barks a laugh and scratches said-dog’s ears with a low murmur of praise as Kate busies herself unclipping their leads. Yelena turns back to the coffee machine as the dogs happily disperse into the apartment. Kate slides up behind the shorter woman and winds her arms around the assassin’s waist. She noses some blond strands out of the way and kisses the shell of Yelena’s ear before resting her chin on the woman’s shoulder.
“He says he misses pizza,” Kate says. “We’re raising a criminal, and this is his origin story.”
“Yes, it is all very sad,” Yelena answers. Her voice sounds flat and unconcerned, but the corners of her lips twitch with a poorly-restrained smile. She prods the buttons on the coffee machine with frustration until Kate gently shoos her fingers and does it for her. The blond has to raise her voice a little as the grinder, finally, jumps into action, “Pizza would be much cheaper than his current dog food.”
Kate snickers and pushes her face into the crook of Yelena’s neck. Her face is cold from being outside so long, but Yelena can’t bring herself to complain at the moment. They stay like that for a while as the air thickens with the rich scent of brewing coffee.
“Since when do you wear purple?” Kate mumbles into her skin, smiling at the slight shutter it evokes. She tugs playfully at the hem of the purple sweater Yelena’s wearing, “I think this might be my hoodie.”
“It was in my drawer, so it is my hoodie now.”
“Is that how that works?”
“Yes.”
“So does that mean the vest with all the pockets that I found in my drawer last week is mine now?”
“No.”
“No? How’s that fair?”
“Life is not always fair, Kate Bishop.”
Kate snorts, kissing Yelena’s neck again before moving away. She hip-check’s the black widow lightly, earning an incredulous raised-eyebrow that warms Kate's cheeks and makes her laugh.
“Go sit - I’ll finish the coffee.”
“It is almost finished anyway,” Yelena grumbles, but she’s already walking away. Yelena can feel Kate’s eyes follow her as she heads to the couch and curls up on her favourite end of the sofa, tucking her bare feet into the space between the cushions (the 'couch crotch', if Kate is to be believed). The tick-tack-tacking of nails on hardwood is the only warning before the couch is a sea of movement – both of their hairy children clambering to see which can settle most on top of Yelena like a lumpy, leggy blanket.
Voice as sweet and beautiful as ever, Kate sings some silly pop song Yelena recognizes as having been all over the radio lately as the archer pours and fixes their drinks. Yelena closes her eyes and lets the sound wash over her.
She’s not sure she deserves this. Part of her wasn’t really kidding when she told Kate life wasn’t fair. Life has never been kind to her. It feels almost ironic that she can have this life only now – after becoming the greatest former child assassin the world has ever known. After almost murdering the best friend, her sister gave her life to save (he wasn’t the only one she was fighting to save, but it’s taken Yelena years to find any understanding in Natasha’s choice).
She’s not sure she deserves this…
“Yelena?”
But she does accept it.
Yelena opens her eyes as Kate draws near. Kate passes her one of the warm mugs in her hands with a smile that is so fond and so, so soft that Yelena feels a bit like that angry green hermit in the American Christmas cartoon Kate loves so much (The Grump? The Grouch?… it doesn’t matter). What matters that is her heart feels much too full and too large for her chest.
Kate leans over to kiss her just as Fanny shifts position between them, snout knocking into the side of Kate’s coffee and spilling it down the front of the archer's shirt. The woman shouts in surprise and hops up from the couch.
“Fanny! You were supposed to be the good kid!” Kate scolds half-heartedly as she leaves to clean-up.
Yelena’s raucous laugher follows her all the way up the stairs and into the bedroom.