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So, Kate never knew that you could physically taste someone else’s disgust in the air until this exact moment.
She can’t even see Yelena’s face, but complete and utter revulsion radiates from every pore and tense muscle in the black widow’s back. Kate’s subconscious fishes for a metaphor, but she really can’t decide if she’s going to choke on it or if it’s actually sharp enough to cut her instead.
But, like, she hopes there’s no actual cutting because Kate’s cut-up enough already.
Yelena’s hands clench around the sides of the open first aid kit Kate had passed her when they first tumbled into the bathroom. They had an unexpected run-in with the up-and-coming gang, The Shivs, that they were currently investigating, and it turns out that these guys were as fond of knives as the Tracksuits were of… well, tracksuits. Who would have thought that when Kate accepted the mantle of Hawkeye that her biggest surprise would be unoriginality of her villains? If there’s some authority out there getting hired to name bad guys, then she’d really like to have a word with them.
Branding is important, but there’s no need to be so literal. Like, just because she’s fighting ‘The Shivs’ doesn’t mean they have to actually shiv her – thank you very much. Kate will gladly invite them to her next Tedtalk on the subject… that is, if Kate can survive the disapproving laser beams that Yelena is shooting from her eyes.
“Kate Bishop,” Yelena growls, “what is this box?”
“Um… a first aid kit?”
“No – that is not possible,” Yelena says, shaking the box for emphasis. Kate swallows nervously as the container is thrust under her nose, forcing her to take note of the poorly cleaned blood smears and empty wrappers. It’s not entirely devoid of equipment, but the archer can admit that she’s been a little lax about replacement trips to the pharmacy, “this – this is a biohazard bin from a hospital.”
Yelena’s gives her a once-over, peeling back the archer’s shoddy attempts at medical treatment with her eyes before following through with her hands. Kate winces and almost falls backwards into the tub as the first of the adhesive tap is ripped-off her chin like a wax strip at a salon.
“Ow!”
“You’re going to end-up looking like Deadpool’s ass if you keep this up,” Yelena practically snarls through gritted teeth. Kate hisses as the woman swabs none too gently at the laceration on the archer’s forehead with an antiseptic wipe. “Did Barton teach you nothing before he returned home?”
“How do you know what Deadpool’s ass looks like?”
“Focus, Bishop!”
“Hey! Clint taught me just fine!” Kate tries to sound assertive, but it’s a little harder to pull off when your eyes are stinging with unshed tears. She looks up to make eye contact with the woman standing over her before continuing, but the twisted look on Yelena’s face cuts her off more cleanly than the woman’s next words.
“This is not fine – this is lazy. This is negligent. I was only here for the weekend, but if this is how you treat yourself then I’m afraid you’re going to die if I leave.”
Part of Kate thinks she’d be more than fine with being Yelena’s reason to hang around if that’s what it took – even if that was a little fucked up and unfair. She’s a little at a loss to what to say precisely because she’s aware of this, so she makes a non-committal noise and plays it off as the actions of the petulant teenager that she no longer is. Yelena narrows her eyes at her like she can see through her (let’s be real, she probably can), but Kate doesn’t cave. She’s tired. It’s been a long night and a long few months. If she can’t be honest with Yelena right now, then she can at least be honest with herself and admit that…
Kate is fucking lonely, okay.
Everyone’s kind of left her. On occasion, Yelena pops in for a beat before doing the same. It hurts a little more every time because she really likes this hot, scary, adorable woman who made her buy an extra fork and forced her to fix the lock on the window upstairs. Kate’s far too extroverted to spend this much time alone in her apartment. She might try to cover it up with humour, but it’s absolutely been wearing on her. So, excuse her for just not having the energy for a couple extra trips to the store when some of the longest conversations she’s had in the last few weeks have been with the variety of folks trying to kill her.
Kate never realized that she averted her gaze until she hears Yelena sigh. From the corner of her eye, she sees the assassin’s shoulders sag like Kate’s sudden and uncharacteristic sullenness has pulled the wind from her sails.
“Kate Bishop, please look at me,” Yelena says, sounding more tired than angry now. “Why are you behaving like this?”
Kate can only bring herself to shrug, and Yelena growls again, frustrated.
“This box could give you an infection as easily as your half-assed treatment.”
“Probably.”
“So, why not do it properly?”
Kate’s quiet for a while. When she doesn’t continue, Yelena sighs again and turns her attention to sorting through the medical supplies that were still salvageable. It’s a little surprising that Yelena drops the interrogation so quickly, but one glance at the widow’s eyes tells Kate that she’s not about to let the topic drop indefinitely.
There’s a tightness in the air that’s different than the disgust and anger from earlier, but it’s no less suffocating. Kate might be stubborn as a mule, but it’s not in her nature to hold on to negative emotions and silence for too long. Trying to maintain her silence feels a lot like swimming directly for shore in a riptide. It’s easier to just give in and drift out to sea.
“I’m depressed,” she admits. Yelena’s hands pause for a second on a roll of gauze, but Kate can’t bring herself to keep looking at her. “I live alone, but I’m not used to being alone. Clint’s in Missouri. My mom’s gone. It’s way too awkward to hangout with Jack, and any of my friends left in the city went back to college after the holidays. There’s not really anyone left around here to talk to anymore.”
“Why didn’t you return to school?”
“Well, for one – I destroyed a historic bell tower the night I left for break and it’s not like Mom really had time to really pay them off before I sent her to prison,” Kate muttered, wincing at how awfully privileged and unethical it sounds, but Yelena looks unbothered and motions her to continue, “And two - I didn’t want to. I’m not really sure that it’s what I want anymore, and everything still feels a bit… much, right now.”
“Perhaps courting ill-will from another group of criminals is not the best course of action for you when you are feeling like this,” Yelena says. She picks up the meager assortment of supplies deemed still sterile and takes a seat beside Kate on the lip of the tub. Gentle hands lift the side of Kate’s shirt to expose a long gash. “Lean over a little – I’m going to clean and close this.”
“No offense, but - given how we first met - I don’t know if you’re the best authority on courting danger when you’re upset,” the comment earns her a rougher touch than necessary, but they both let the comment slide unchecked. Kate finds she’s again surprised that Yelena didn’t immediately deny it but reminds herself that she’s not the only one that’s probably tired. “What are you doing, anyway?”
“I thought you said Clint showed you how to tend to your wounds?”
“He showed me how to clean them and used butterfly sutures.”
“That is not teaching you how to fully tend to your wounds,” Yelena snorts. “If you are going to continue to play Avenger, then you should know how to properly use sutures and the equipment in that bullshit box.”
Well, there’s no real arguing with that is there? The right words feel too far out of reach, and Kate’s not really sure which direction she wants to take this conversation. She must take long enough mulling it over for Yelena to decide that Kate’s not going to answer because the widow decides for her.
“You know if you want me to… I can come back more often – stay longer,” Yelena sounds nonchalant, but there’s a hopeful lilt to it that Kate hopes she’s not misinterpreting. “I still have to go away sometimes, but it’s not like I have a great number of people to visit when I’m not working. I like your company, Kate. I don’t mind returning to New York for a while.”
“Wait, you want to stay in New York?” Kate asks. “You’ve only ever stayed for a few hours after helping me out with a fight. Besides that first time, I never thought you really wanted to, you know, hang out.”
“You’ve never asked me to.”
“I mean… I did a couple times.”
“But not every time.”
“Do I have to?” Kate asks, noting that it seems to make Yelena uncomfortable. “You had no problem inviting yourself into my house the first few times.”
“You have made it clear many times that you consider this ‘inviting’ to be breaking in,” Yelena answers and Kate tries not to read into it too much when the black widow crosses her arms in front of her. “Even when there is no breaking involved. I do not linger where I’m unwelcome.”
“So, why do you keep coming back? …wait, I make you feel unwelcome when you’re here?”
“You don’t, but how am I to know?” Yelena seems a little agitated now and Kate’s well-aware that the woman masterfully dogged the first question, but it doesn’t feel appropriate to point it out. “I have had family – complicated family – and business associates. Allies. Enemies. I’ve never really done… friends.”
For a moment, all Kate can manage is a soft ‘oh’ as she’s struck dumb by Yelena’s admission. Maybe it shouldn’t be as surprising as feels. Of course, it shouldn’t be surprising that someone raised as a ‘bloodthirsty vigilante-type’ (Kate regrets calling her this) wouldn’t be entirely up-to-date on the whole… rules of engagement between friends sort of thing.
Kate feels like she should have known, but they’ve never really talked about feelings in depth before. Facts? Sure - Yelena’s let slip the odd anecdote about her life. Jokes? Sure - Kate’s chalked-full of corn and cheese (she’s surprised it’s not pouring out of injuries right now). Teasing? Sure - Yelena’s constantly finding new and creative ways to poke fun at Kate’s every breath. But even still… this is kind of the deepest two-way conversation they’ve had since they sat down to that first tense dinner last December.
“Well, you are – welcome, I mean,” Kate says eventually when her throat loosens enough to speak without cracking, “I like your company too. The grumbling is for show – I’m just kidding with you. I mean, you could just knock on the door like a normal person, but I’m always happy when you show up.”
“Normal people are very boring.”
“Yeah,” Kate feels the muscles in her face pull into a smile for the first time since they got back to the apartment, “It’s impossible to be bored when you’re around.”
Yelena narrows her eyes at for a moment as if she’s trying to sort out whether Kate’s intentions and whether she’s being made fun of or not (it’s a little of both, really), “this is good – I expect not being bored will make it a lot easier for you to remember how to patch yourself up when I show you how to do it.
“And since you will know how to do it,” the assassin continues with a gleam in her eye that’s more than likely the harbinger of Kate’s doom, “and you will not always know when I will enter through your window – as you have just said that you are always so very happy when I do this – then it is understandable that I can expect that you will take care of yourself much better in the future.”
“Ah – right,” Kate says, voice weak and knowing that were she were a dog, the intensity of Yelena’s threatening tone would have her flat on her back (you know, in a submissive ‘please don’t kill me – I am only smole’ kind of way and not - at all - in a sexual kind of way… just in case that sounded sexual – because it’s not. Kate would never allow herself to have sexual thoughts about her new-ish friend in this bathroom… more than once …probably. Whatever – not the time, Kate). “I’ll replace the kit and stay in one piece… you know, one-piece-Kate, that’s what they’ll call me.”
“…That’s really stupid.”
“Yeah, it just came out… I don’t claim it’s energy.”
“You’re already a hawk’s eye – not Hawkeyes,” Yelena snorts. “Just don’t lose anything else.”
“Now who’s making stupid jokes?”
“No one but you. Now, pay attention,” The widow flashes Kate a small smile before she shifting to the task at hand. Yelena gestures to the supplies beside her, and then to the gash on her side and the nick on her chin. “I will apply these butterfly-strips to your chin because it’s all you have, but you should replace them with steri-strips later when you go to the store – they’re better. As for your side, we will need to stitch it closed.”
“Okay.”
Kate’s mouth feels a little dry as Yelena holds two thin rectangular wrappers in front of her. The one in front reads ‘3-0 Ethilon’ in big bold letters and Kate’s not really sure what that means (she didn’t really look at her first aid kit so much as… quickly rummage around for things that look familiar). Yelena sets them aside for a moment to put some gloves on before peeling back on the tabs at the top first wrapper. She shows Kate the inside but doesn’t remove the plastic oval yet. She sets it aside on a large piece of gauze next to something that Kate’s brain labels ‘weird plyers.’
“This will not be so sterile, but it will do. You will watch me now, and later, I will bring you better supplies and a practice pad,” Yelena must catch the confused flash on Kate’s face because she clarifies, “a silicone pad used for practicing stitching. If you continue this path, you may not always have the luxury of a hospital. As I said, you should know how to do it.”
‘I have not always had the luxury of a hospital’ is what Kate hears instead, but she doesn’t comment. She just nods. She’s right after all. Even if Kate were hellbent on not caring for herself, she still cares a hell of a lot about others and it’s pretty damn likely she’ll be glad to know this at some point. Kate motions for Yelena to proceed, “do I need to, like, down a couple shots before this or… ?”
“You can if you like,” Yelena says, looking vaguely amused, “there’s some lidocaine in the bag though.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds good.”
“It’s a topical anesthesia – blocks nerve endings,” the widow answers as she gets to work, and it turns out for a trained killer, Yelena makes for an excellent teacher. It probably helps that Kate’s feeling a lot less moody than before. The prospect of future - extended – and more regular visits from Yelena has her feeling a lot lighter than she’s felt in a while. It’s not a cure-all – there’s no such thing. And anyway, it’s not Yelena’s responsibility to be one, even if she was. There’s a difference between being supportive and becoming someone else’s crutch. It’s an exhausting job and Kate really needs to work out how to walk on her own if she’s ever going to heal. Yelena has too many of her own issues for Kate to use her as a therapist – that’s what real therapists are for.
“You’re done,” Yelena says, finally. She removes her first glove before fisting it in the other hand and pulling the remaining glove off so that it’s trapped inside. “Please feed me now. My services are very expensive, and you are past-due paying for them.”
Kate snorts a laugh and glances over as Yelena stretches casually. She tries very hard not to dwell on the satisfied groan Yelena makes as her back cracks loudly, “what about you?”
“I am fine. The buffoons from earlier did not touch me,” Yelena smirks and shoots her a wink. “I am too talented for that.”
Later, when Kate’s ordered them both enough butter paneer to sink a ship from that amazing all-hours place down the street, she remembers a very important piece of information from their bathroom conversation that she desperately needs clarified.
Balancing precariously on the arm of the couch in the exact way her mother always complained was going to break it, Kate’s grin stretches like the Cheshire cat. Yelena’s sprawled lazily in the armchair beside the archer, both legs hanging over the side. She arches a brow as Kate leans in.
“So… how DO you know what Deadpool’s ass looks like?”
“Kate, can you stop reminding me of this? I am trying very hard to forget about it.”
“I’ll stop when you tell me,” Kate says, feeling every bit like a basset hound homing in on delicious-smelling sandwich everyone else seems to have forgotten about. “It sounds embarrassing, and every good story starts with-WHAH!”
The offending foot is still hanging in air when Kate orients herself enough to realize that Yelena’s somehow managed knock her over onto the cushions with only a solid nudge of her big toe. Kate makes a big show of being offended but smiles when the widow stops laughing. It earns her one back and for the moment, the world doesn’t feel quite so empty.