Chapter Text
It had been three months since Christmas, and Kate could comfortably say they're dating. She thinks, anyway.
Maybe she isn't confident, but the archer knows she is ready to ask the blonde to be her girlfriend.
That's what this whole affair was about, really. She'd found a small Italian restaurant, asked ahead for supplies of hot sauce and garlic bread, and even had some of her LARPer friends watch Lucky and Fanny.
It was all perfect, truly, and Kate was ready to ask her to be her girlfriend.
You got this, kid. She wouldn't stick around if she didn't like you back!
She read through the text a few more times, settling her stomach with gentle pat. Clint was right, he must have the title of Widow Translator with his bond to Natasha. Still, it didn't stop the ache and fire in her chest, not even the rain could dampen that.
She'd arrived early, wearing her long coat she knew Yelena loved, and definitely would try to steal if she weren't so short. This matched with her turned up jeans and docs made her feel quite confident in herself, until she made a horrible link.
"What was I thinking?! A white shirt? This is going to be a disaster!"
The waiter looked unsure as to what he should say, tapping his pad with a nervous brow.
"I can… get you a bib?"
She sat back with a smile, nodding along like he'd suggested the best answer of the decade.
"Perfect! Thanks, I'll also take a bottle of your best rose, with two glasses please."
He scratched his head, unaware of the glares the cook was giving him from across the small restaurant.
"Erm, I think we only have white or red?"
She shrugged, glancing at the menu for more the sake of it than actually perusing.
"Then I'll have a bottle of white, please."
He nodded, taking the drinks menu he held to him, "You've been a wonderful help."
The boy smiled and walked through the restaurant doors, almost immediately being scolded by the cook, apparently also his father, for not having his shirt tucked in.
She glanced at her phone, noting the time. 18:01, Yelena was late.
"Worried I'd cancel, Kate Bishop?"
A bell is needed on her sometimes, I swear.
She grins at the sight of the woman who'd been living in her mind rent free (as well as actually living in her apartment rent free) since they met on that rooftop.
She looked amazing, obviously. Yellow coat with matching trousers and a white crop top, hair flowing as the door closed from her silent entrance.
Kate's throat froze, but she was determined to reply, even more so after Yelena tilted her eyebrow in question at her, amusement sparking her eyes.
"We're both screwed, aren't we?"
At her confused eye crinkle, Kate gestured to the white shirts they both wore. The assassin laughed heartily, undoing a button on her coat as she shrugged it off with the elegance of… well, her.
"Kate Bishop, I'm sure we will be able to keep ourselves clean from food without the need of a baby bib."
Kate paled as she sat in the seat opposite, guessing that fate was about to do exactly what it did do. The waiter came back, offering the wine glasses, a bucket of ice with the bottle inside, and a long extra napkin for Kate.
"Your bib, ma'am. I'll come back for your food orders soon."
Kate blushed slightly over her cheeks, taking the cloth and moving it to her lap.
"... It's a nice shirt."
"You are wonderful, Kate Bishop. So, what are we toasting?"
The archer takes the offered glass, Yelena takes the other, holding it in the air between them, waiting to toast.
Now is not the time, don't ruin the night at the start!
"E-erm. To us!"
The blonde nodded, touching the glasses together gently and sipping her wine.
"To us. How did you find this place? I barely found a place to park."
"You drive?"
She tilts her head and frowns.
"I am a master assassin, of course I drive. Look, that is my bike over there."
She could've sworn her neck snapped at the speed she looked, sure that the bike was wonderfully cool to any enthusiast, but she herself had one burning question.
"How does your hair look this good?!"
The blonde shrugged, twirling a curl between her fingertips.
"I have my ways, and a helmet."
Kate didn't comment on the lack of helmet hair, and instead decided to shake her head and just agree to disagree.
The door opened and two uniformed officers walked in. One went to the kitchen window, calling over in Italian to the cook, who returned his enthusiasm with his own.
"This is a nice place, Kate Bishop. Supporting small businesses, I am a fan."
Kate looked back at the woman across from her with a nod mixed into a shrug.
"Yea, the place seemed nice, you know?"
Yelena moves the glass to her lips again, something in her eyes making Kate's chest freeze over and erupt all at once. The planned speech she had written in her pocket almost burned a hole in her jacket.
Fuck it, ask now.
"Yelena, I have a question. Would you-"
"Excuse me miss?"
They both look up at the new voice, the second uniformed officer standing over them. He seemed young, green around the gills maybe, definitely eager to do everything by the book.
Yelena didn't respond, obviously having a lack of respect for authority, so Kate took the reins.
"Evening officer, can we help you?"
He held one hand on his belt, offering out the other palm up.
"Can I see some identification, please? Just want to make sure you're of age to be drinking here."
His partner groaned by the wall but pushed off to join him, knowing he had to be supportive even if he was being overly dramatic.
Kate fished her wallet from her jacket, offering the card to the man before them as Yelena tapped her fingers against the tabletop.
"My ID is on my bike, in the compartment."
He frowned, and Kate couldn't figure out why. He nodded at Kate's and gave her card back, attempting (and failing) to stare Yelena down.
"I'll need to see some identification, ma'am."
Yelena scoffed, retort already on the tip of her tongue, and Kate knew if she didn't act fast this would be escalated, and she'd have to wait until she was even more confident to confess her feelings to the shorter woman.
"I'll go get it."
Yelena's gaze snapped to her.
"You will not!"
"It's fine, a little rain won't ruin my hair."
"It will make your shirt see through. I'll get it."
"We're both wearing white-"
"I'm scarier."
The second officer, already tired of this, taps the table softly.
"Sorry ladies, we'll just need the brunette to get the papers. Won't be long, then I'll get this one out of your hair."
Yelena is glaring, Kate feels nothing but pity for the more experienced officer.
Is this how Clint felt with me? Damn, I should apologize.
"Take my coat at least, Kate Bishop. To cover your hair and shirt with."
The butterflies hatch in her chest and sprout into a smile, she takes the offered coat along with the keys and gestures to the two officers.
"Be right back!"
Coat over her head as a makeshift hood, the archer walked across the street to the motorcycle. After fiddling with the keys for a moment, she unlocks the compartment and snorts at what she sees; about five different passports and just as many IDs are before her, and she takes the one with her favourite picture on, ready to use it as teasing material later on, should things go to plan.
Of course, things never go to plan.
There's a voice behind her, heavy and angry. He snarls out four words.
"Это за Дрейкова, предателя."
She didn't even have time to acknowledge the fear in her chest, or the cold metal against the back of her head, chilling even through the coat. She has time to tense, to turn her head to the restaurant, to see the enraged face of her assassin tearing through the door and yelling at her assailant.
She's not fast enough, the person moves, but their finger already acted.
The last thing she hears is Yelena yelling her name, and the kick of a bullet against her skull.