Work Text:
“Kate Bishop, what are you doing?”
Kate slams the medicine cabinet shut and jumps what must be ten feet in the air. Her head snaps over to the bathroom door so fast it’d probably hurt if her body were capable of feeling anything other than the mess Fisk left with. She hasn’t taken her clothes off yet, but she suspects her bruises have coalesced into one super-mass encompassing her entire body. It takes her a split second to rein her soul back in, but that doesn’t stop Kate’s mouth from moving without permission.
“I-um-nothing! I mean, I’m-I’m… nothing.”
Yelena only stares flatly in response as Kate continues to flail, leaning against the sink in a way that she hopes looks more casual than it feels. She suspects Yelena might be doing this on purpose but knowing this does nothing to soothe the squirmy feeling in her gut (or the searing rib pain when she breathes, but that one's not really Yelena’s fault).
“Like, really,” the archer insists, ignoring the heat crawling up her neck. She’s always been mildly impressed by how deep she’s able to dig her heels into the - occasionally flimsy - hills she chooses to die on. She forces a cough into a husky laugh through sheer force of will.
It hurts.
Like, so badly.
“Nothing to see here, honestly.”
“I do not believe you are nothing,” Yelena drawls, finally allowing her some emotion to crack through the blankness on her face (…and it’s a frown. She’s frowning. Shit.). Yelena leans against the doorframe and gestures at Kate’s abdomen. The assassin pulls off the casual look Kate knows she’s failing at achieving herself. “A bad liar though? Yes, this - I do believe and I am not sure how you are still alive.”
“I mean, it’s not that bad,” Kate says, a little affronted. “Yeah, okay, I’m a little hurt, but not enough to, like, die or anything.”
“That is not what I meant, пташка.”
Kate’s not really sure what to say. She knows that’s not what Yelena meant, but it’s not like she can bare to just… agree with her, and to disagree would be to prove the widow right anyway. So, she shifts gears.
“What are you doing here, Yelena? Clint said you let him go.”
“I did,” she says. “You are deflecting.”
“So are you.”
“What happened? I did not kick your ribs so hard as to do that.”
“I fought Kingpin in a toy store, and he mistook me for a ragdoll.”
Yelena’s eyes shoot up in disbelief, and yeah, it does sound a little ridiculous put like that, but it’s also exactly what happened, so she lets it stand. The blonde’s eyes knit together a little in concern when it becomes apparent that it’s not entirely a joke. Kate’s not really sure why an assassin that she’s spent the last few days trying to prevent from murdering her mentor would be concerned about her, but it makes a small part of her croon happily all the same. Is that normal response? Definitely not, but Kate’s never been normal (it's over-rated).
Somehow, there’s something that just feels right when they’re together. Kate thinks Yelena must feel the same too (I mean, Yelena could have ended her more times than Kate can possibly imagine by now if she actually wanted to). She hopes she’s not just being as cocky as her mother’s always told her she was, but Yelena’s still standing there – concerned – so she thinks she can trust herself more than her mom on this one (she probably should have been doing that all along given… well… everything).
“You are very lucky that it was not the end of you,” Yelena sighs, eventually. “You have potential, Kate Bishop. You should learn to pace yourself better. It would be a waste if you were to die because you took on a fight such as that before you are ready.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never really been a patient person.”
“I am realizing this.”
Kate hums, “your turn – why’d you break into my house again?”
“I did not break–”
“-anything. Yes, but you know what I mean.”
Yelena is quiet for a while and it’s only then that Kate gets to look at her – really look at her. The woman looks as tired as Clint did when she first saw him waiting in the back of the ambulance, so Kate tries not to push her to answer faster than she’s ready. When she’s just about to burst, the wait pays off and Yelena speaks, “they say this city never sleeps… it is not something that I wish to do tonight either. I thought, perhaps, you might wish to get a drink as you suggested in the tower.”
“Oh,” Kate glances between her ribs and the medicine cabinet. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to drink any alcohol tonight… The paramedics gave me some pretty strong painkillers to take home, but I do need to eat something before I can take them. You’re welcome to… stay? Eat with me. Again. If you want?”
“…That fight was very long,” Yelena smiles weakly. “I am starving.”
“Cool. Cool-cool-cool-cool,” Kate smiles back. That awkward fluttery feeling rising up in her again. “I mean, not cool that you're starving, but cool that... yeah. I – uh – okay, you’re right. I lied. I’m not really doing nothing. I really need to change out of these clothes and sit down. My, like, everything hurts right now. Can you just, maybe… turn around or go pick out a delivery place? I have a bunch of menus beside the microwave. I’ll pay for it, just – just pick whatever you want.”
“Okay.”
Yelena’s eyes crinkle a little and Kate’s suddenly feeling ridiculously pleased with herself (despite knowing that mess she just let loose was anything but smooth). Her whole world might’ve been turned upside down this week and some things were more than a bit… well, shit… but there’s probably only a handful of people in the world who can say they’ve made a black widow assassin smile like that. The archer decides that she’ll take her wins where she can. It’s then that Kate notices Yelena’s still dressed in her black tactical suit - still looking much cleaner and less worn than Kate’s own outfit (how does she do that?).
“You can borrow some sweatpants, or whatever, from upstairs if you want to change too.”
“You are a kind person, Kate Bishop,” Yelena whispers, softly. Then she smirks. “I hope you enjoy spicy food.”
“Oh, yeah,” Kate blinks at the sudden mood shift. “Spicy is great.”
The blonde nods and leaves the room without another word. Kate’s more than a little impressed with how the other woman can make a normal exit so graceful? Captivating? (...hot? She can't say hot. She won't. Not tonight. That is a train of thought for another time when her head doesn't feel like there's a crash at the station.) Kate stares at the empty doorway for several long moments before her brain catches up with what she just agreed to.
“…wait, how spicy is spicy, exactly? Yelena? Yelena!”