Archive of Our Own

Cliché – “a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.”

Yelena doesn’t believe in clichés - at least, not if you’re talking about her.

After spending most of her life bent to the will of the Red Room, every phrase and opinion uttered feels original - every experience feels new. Something can’t be over-used if you’ve never had the opportunity to use it in the first place, right? So, when Yelena says kissing Kate was ‘life-changing’, then she’d argue that the cliché doesn’t count if it’s meant literally.

“Let me tell you about a place! Somewhere up-a New York way,” Kate croons, happily along with the music spilling from her phone. The warm steady hand on Yelena’s waist encourages her to meet the archer’s jaunty movements as she swings them around the apartment. It’s a little graceless and ridiculous; however, Yelena thinks Kate’s face might be radiating actual rays of pure sunlight, so she finds that she doesn’t really mind. “Where the people are so gay!"

“Well, this is very gay, yes,” Yelena mutters under the trill of the trumpet.

“I’m glad you think so!” Kate laughs in between breaths as she continues singing. “Here they have a lot of fun - puttin' trouble on the run!”

The black widow can’t help but feel a little jealous at how carefree and unbothered the archer is by everything. Kate admits to homosexuality as easy as breathing and Yelena just can’t help but consider how quickly the trainers in the red room would have shot her if she had dared do the same growing up (that is assuming she had been afforded the actual terminology, time, and freedom to even understand and consider it in the first place). She smacks the thought down almost as quickly as it appears. Like a game of mental wack-a-mole, the discomfort always pops up without warning, but Yelena still likes to think she’s getting a little better at playing every time.

They haven’t talked about it yet – this thing between them. There’s an unfamiliar pressure in the widow’s chest every time she looks at the archer, but it doesn’t feel bad for once. It’s intense, but it feels good. It feels warm. It makes her anxious, but it’s still, somehow, comforting. Yelena likes to believe it’s a good thing; however, some days, it’s also just so… much. She can't help but worry that it's just way too big to keep restrained inside her chest without cracking her open, irreparably.

It’s overwhelming. It scares her a little, but then she looks in Kate’s eyes and the unmistakable gleam she finds there reminds Yelena that she’s not alone anymore. If she’s going to drown in this feeling, then Kate’s going to jump off that door and drown with her. It’s that assurance more than anything that makes Yelena believe that someday, she might be able to catch that mole hard enough with her hammer to break it, permanently.

Kate’s got that same gleam in her eyes right now as she twirls them around the room, smiling lopsidedly. Her oversized sweater is showing just a bit too much collarbone and she might be covered in a light coating of Cheeto dust from their movie night snacks, but the archer just looks so… soft and adorable that the widow is just physically incapable of lingering on anything but that overwhelming pressure. It’s about the moment that Kate stumbles a little on the edge of the carpet and needs Yelena’s help righting herself that the widow realizes her pressure cooker was actually a timebomb.

Kate’s laugh slips between the gaps of her ribs, and Yelena's chest explodes.

“Man, you ought’a see her goooO – oh,” Kate’s song chokes off with a gasp and Yelena can feel the archer’s wide eyes watching her as she draws away. Kate doesn’t seem to even realise she’s raised her hand to cover the spot on her cheek where Yelena’s lips just were. “You kissed me.”

“Yes,” Yelena answers. Her own surprise is mirrored on Kate’s face, but the depth of it has her feeling a little off-footed, “is that alright?”

“Is that al… oh! Yeah! Yes!” Kay says, shaking her head like trying to clear it. “Totally alright! I’m just surprised! I wasn’t expecting – I mean – I’ve been wanting you to do it – kiss me, that is. Only if you wanted to, though. I didn’t know if you did. I mean, I thought you might, but I didn’t know-know, you know?”

Yelena snorts, anxiety melting in the wake of Kate’s awkward fumbling, “Kate Bishop – I just did. It’s fair to say I wanted to.”

“Do you still want to?” Kate asks, suddenly bashful. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“O-okay, cool… on the cheek again or…?”

“Shut up, Kate.”

Sliding her hands up Kate’s neck to firmly frame the archer’s face, Yelena drags the woman downward. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting. One of the very few mercies in her life being that Dreykov had never selected her for one of those missions, so she’s never actually kissed anyone before. Until Kate, her curiosity has never been enough to inspire her to try it, so the desire to do so feels foreign.

The sensation, however, does not.

Kate’s lips are soft, and Yelena can feel herself relaxing into it even as her heartbeat shifts into a higher gear. Kate makes a soft, low sound in the back of her throat, and the widow mutely thinks she may finally understand the characters in those cheesy romcoms (you know, the ones she pretends she doesn’t like) a little bit better. The arms Kate winds around her feel safe and very much not like the cage she worried they might be.

Kissing Kate feels like coming home.

It’s been a long time since Yelena’s felt like she’s had one of those.

“Is this where I inform you that telling me to shut up before you kissed me is a big-time cliché?” Kate murmurs when they part. Yelena’s hands have slipped from her cheeks to slide a little further behind the archer’s head, preventing her from retreating too far, but Kate doesn’t seem to mind. The warm press of her forehead against Yelena’s own feels grounding.

“I’ll kiss you again if you don’t,” Yelena says, not opening her eyes.

“And if I do?”

“I will leave it to your imagination, but it would be safe to assume that it would involve you spending at least part of your night passed out on this floor,” Yelena says. She’s smirking, but she’s a little too pleased to make the threat sound sharp enough to be believable.

“You drive a hard bargain, Belova,” Kate laughs, “you have a deal, though.”

Cliché – “a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.”

Yelena doesn’t believe in clichés - at least, not if you’re talking about her.

(Privately though, someday, she hopes that she might.)