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Steven’s been trying to come up with a name for their sixth sense that sounds cool.
Jake refuses to engage and Marc insists there’s nothing wrong with sixth sense, but Steven and Yelena have been lightly workshopping it over text. They’re talking about Moony Sense, but it’s really a work in progress.
The point is, one evening when he’s wrapped himself round Layla like what she’s been referring to as his “patented octopus meets puppy move” (she’d been the only one to appreciate his delighted response of “octopuppy or puptopus?”), he’s drowsily brought to awareness that there is someone outside his window.
Blearily, Steven sits up a little, looking around. There’s a faint clattering against the glass.
Could be a mouse? Funny little mouse. No need to wake anybody up.
The clattering happens again, accompanied by what sounds like a hiss of voices. Okay, probably not a mouse.
“Marc?” he mumbles, trying to rouse himself properly. It occurs to him that whoever is here could be here to hurt Layla, and abruptly he’s a lot more awake. “Marc.”
Mm?
“Marc, wake up. There’s someone here.”
What?
“There’s someone here, outside the window.”
We’re several stories up.
Steven rolls out of bed and starts rummaging for one of those guns Marc and Jake like to hide around the apartment like Easter eggs. “Right, our wife is a superhero cause of a hippo and a great big bloody bird means we can take a bullet, but someone outside the window, ooh, that’s stretching credulity.”
Shit. He can feel how alert Marc suddenly is. Layla. Steven’s hands find one of the guns and checks it over.
“Okay,” Marc whispers, treading lightly to the window. “Be ready.”
“Oi, I’m the one who told you they were here. I’m ready.”
“Just- shut up.” Marc flattens his back against the wall by the window, taking a moment to breathe and listen. There’s another clatter and Marc lunges, turning to face out the window, gun at the ready-
Yelena and a young woman in some kind of purple tactical getup with a bow and quiver on her back freeze from where they’re standing on the slender ledge outside the window.
Marc curses violently in Ladino (Steven keeps meaning to pick up a dictionary). The three of them stare at each other.
“Well?” Yelena demands, just loud enough to be heard through the glass. “Aren’t you gonna invite us in?”
“Why are you outside my window?” Marc hisses back.
“You were closest!”
“Why are you even here?”
“Besties road trip,” the girl next to her whispers.
“Hang on, hang on,” Steven interrupts. “Hang on, are you hurt, Yelena?”
Marc blinks, adjusting. There’s a red spot in the white blouse Yelena’s wearing that’s disconcertingly large.
“Yes,” Yelena answers. “A little bit. Which is why it would help if we were not on the ledge anymore, as it is very trying.”
Marc slides the door open and carefully helps Yelena through, than the other girl. “I thought this was a besties road trip?”
“Well, you know, it’s not really a-“ Yelena hisses as Marc lowers her into a chair. “It’s not really a besties road trip without some casual violence.”
“That is true,” Steven mumbles.
“Sit there, I’ll find the first aid kit. You-“ Marc points at the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, Kate. Kate Bishop, uh, Hawkeye, it doesn’t, doesn’t really matter, I’m Kate. Hi.”
“Kate, there’s a knife taped under that table, take it and cut Yelena out of that shirt.”
“I like this shirt,” Yelena complains.
“Too bad. Steven, where are we keeping-“
“Ottoman.”
“Right, thank you.” Marc heads for the ottoman and lifts the top off to pull out their increasingly gargantuan first aid kit.
“Guys?” Layla asks drowsily.
“Yelena’s here,” Steven tells her. “She’s injured.”
Layla sits up. “What?”
Marc sits in front of Yelena, moving her bra strap down to get a better look at the bloody incision in her shoulder. “Looks like there’s something in there.”
“Uh, yeah, you know, maybe.”
Steven gives her a stern look. “Come on, love. What did you get hit with?”
Yelena makes a face. “Could be a broken off arrowhead.”
Marc looks up at Kate. “Friendly fire?”
Kate looks a little insulted. “No! Some other guy had a bow and arrow! Can you believe that?”
“He’s totally ripping you off,” Yelena mumbles. “You should sue.”
Marc sighs quietly. “Okay, just, Kate, hand me those tweezers, Layla-“ Layla chucks him a belt that Steven catches. “Thank you.” He holds it out to Yelena. “Bite down on this.”
Layla comes up and grips Yelena’s uninjured shoulder. “This is gonna suck,عسل بلدي..”
Yelena reaches up and grabs at Layla’s hand. “Fanks.”
“Kate, bring me that desk lamp.” Kate positions it for him.
“If Marc ad thuh weel?”
Marc blinks. “What?”
Yelena tugs the belt from her mouth. “Is Marc at the wheel? Because I’d kind of like it to be Marc.”
Steven frowns. “Oi.”
“Steven,” Layla says. “Marc’s pulled out at least four arrowheads since I’ve known him.”
“…alright, fair enough. All yours, Marc.”
Yelena puts the belt back. Marc squints and gingerly reaches in with the tweezers. Yelena grunts.
“S’alright, love,” Steven mumbles. “You’re doing great.”
Marc manages to grasp the head of the arrow. “Okay, I’ve got it. Brace yourself. Count of three.”
“Uh-huh.”
“One, two-“ Marc pulls the arrow out. Yelena yells into the belt and squeezes Layla’s hand.
“Good job,” Steven says, dropping the arrowhead on their little table. Note to self, he thinks. Clean table. “You did a great job, Yelena.”
Marc puts the tweezers down. “Okay, Kate, pass me the disinfectant. Yelena, this is also gonna suck.” She grunts again. Marc squirts the disinfectant in and she screams into the belt again, releasing Layla’s hand to pound her fist on the table. Marc puts the disinfectant down and she spits out the belt.
“For the love of all that is holy,” she mumbles. “Please tell me you have some booze.”
“Alcohol’s a blood thinner,” Steven says absently. “You really shouldn’t-“
“Whiskey or Stella?” Layla asks.
Yelena spits. “Yes.”
“Oh, don’t spit on our floor,” Steven complains. “What, were you raised in a barn?”
“Sorry.”
“Only one,” Layla says. “Can’t have both.”
“Stella.”
Layla heads for the kitchen. “Kate?”
“Uh. Whiskey?”
Marc pulls out a needle and some thread. “We don’t have any painkillers, so you’re kinda on your own.”
“Can’t believe you wanted me sober for this.”
“Yelena, you gotten stitches before?”
She snorts. “Oh, yeah.”
“Good. Sorry this is gonna sting.”
Marc settles in to work and the ensuing silence is awkward.
Kate looks around, clearing her throat. “Um. You have a … very nice apartment.”
Layla hands Yelena a bottle of Stella and Kate a bottle of whiskey. “Thanks.”
“How do you afford a place like this in London?”
“Don’t ask me how the economy works,” Steven mumbles. “What’re you doing in London, anyway?”
“She told you. Besties road trip.”
“I’ve never been to Europe,” Kate says. “Yelena said it was nice, so.”
“Who’s looking after your dog?”
Yelena gives him a lopsided grin. “Are you ever gonna call my dog by her name?”
“No,” Steven answers sternly. “I am not.”
“Fanny’s with Clint,” Kate tells them. “Along with my dog.” She perks up a little. “Yelena says you have fish, can I see ‘em?”
“Yeah, sure,” Marc answers distantly. “The Guses are over there.”
Kate gets up and heads over to the tank. “Aw, look at them! You didn’t oversell them.”
“I wouldn’t oversell fish, yastrebka.” Yelena takes a swig of Stella. “Mm. Good beer.”
“Best around,” Layla agrees, settling in next to Marc. “Let me take over.”
“Hey-“
“My stitches are better than yours.” She shoos at him. “Bup, bup, bup, on your way-“ Marc reluctantly gets up and sits in the chair next to Yelena’s. “Thank you very much.”
Yelena takes another swig. “Can’t believe you almost stuck me with second rate stitches.”
“I can’t believe you showed up at my window at two in the bloody morning,” Steven counters. “Some of us have got to work, you know.”
“Where are you working these days, anyway?”
“Steven got himself a tour guide job at the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology.” Layla lightly tugs on the thread. “It’s very respectable.”
“Oh, that seems like a good gig for you.”
“Had to fudge a few references.” Steven fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “But I mean, can’t exactly tell ‘em yeah, I’ve spoken to an Egyptian god myself and between you, me, and the curtains, he’s a right asshole, can I?”
Kate perks up slightly. “I had an Ancient Egyptian phase! It’s cool that you’re like, an avatar.”
“He’s a plonker,” Steven replies. “But thank you, I appreciate that, love meeting a fellow mythead.”
“I am fucking begging you to stop calling yourself that,” Layla says, looking up. Steven sticks his tongue out at her.
“You know, Yelena and I were talking about swinging by the British Museum to repatriate some artifacts.”
“Consult Layla,” Marc tells her. “She’s been working on a plan for years.”
“It’s the trucks.” She neatly pulls the thread. “I can figure out most of the angles but it’s loading things into trucks that keeps tripping me up.”
Yelena points with the beer bottle. “See, that is what was giving me trouble, too!”
“Yeah, you’d need an armada,” Kate adds. “You know what we don’t have? An armada.”
“Fucking bullshit, is what it is,” Yelena agrees.
“You’re telling me.” Layla pokes her in the shoulder with the needle and she yelps. “Quit squirming.”
“I’m not squirming.”
“I will jab you again.” Yelena pulls a sullen face but settles. “Thank you.”
Kate takes another sip of her whiskey. “What’s it like inside a great pyramid?”
Marc considers. “You know, surprisingly cool.”
“Cool as in cold,” Steven adds. “It was unsurprisingly cool in the other respect.”
“You know.” Kate leans in with a grin. “I always wanted to see Hatshepsut’s mummy.”
Steven rests a hand on his chest. “Oh my stars, me too.”
Marc shrugs. “It’s just a mummy, really, nothing to-“ Steven removes his hand from his chest to smack his cheek. “Ow!”
“You didn’t wake me up for Hatshepsut?”
“You weren’t back yet!” Marc rubs his face. “What did that accomplish?”
“I dunno. Made me feel a little better, I suppose.”
Yelena tilts her head back and closes her eyes. “Marc, tell Kate about that time you threw one guy into four guys in a row and they all fell down like dominoes.”
Kate grins. “That sounds cool.”
“We ran across some tiger poachers in Egypt.” Marc stretches a little. “I don’t like people who fuck with animals.”
Kate passes out on the couch and once Yelena gets her stitches, she escapes for a bit. They let her, Marc and Layla cleaning up after the mess. When they’re done, Steven snags a dark turquoise cable knit sweater and heads for the roof.
Yelena glances up as he approaches.
“You’re only in your sports bra, love,” Steven tells her gently. “You’ll get cold. Put this on.”
Yelena accepts the sweater, pulling it on. “Thanks. Sorry for spitting on the floor.”
“It’s okay.” Marc sits next to her. “How you feeling?”
“Little sore. But a little tipsy, so, you know, it all evens out.” Yelena looks out across the city. “It’s nice, from up here.”
“Yeah. The three of us come up here for a picnic some nights.”
“Natasha and I didn’t get to see each other much, after everything. She spent a lot of time with what was left of the Avengers.” Yelena doesn’t look at him. “But she was in London for 24 hours once, and I made it. We got Mauritanian food and snuck into Big Ben. We got onto the highest ledge we could reasonably get to and sat out and looked out down at the city.”
“Sounds nice,” Steven says quietly.
“Yeah.” Yelena looks down. “I lived without her for so long. And I don’t-“ she grits her teeth. “I don’t know how to do it again. I don’t know how to keep going without my big sister.”
Marc takes a deep breath, watching London twinkle.
“Losing someone… they take a piece of you with them. You never get that piece back. You just have to make a new piece. It’s hard. Takes time.” Marc looks at her. “Do you have a support system?”
“Kate. My mom and dad. Sort of. It’s complicated.” She smiles slightly. “My dad’s trying to catching up on all the fathering he missed. Keeps telling me to eat my vegetables.”
Steven twiddles his thumbs a little.
“You know,” he tells her slowly. “Marc… feelings can be hard. But we both like you. Quite a bit.”
Yelena sniffs a little. “Thanks.”
“And you know. You can always talk to us. Layla, too. We’re here. If you need us. You can even kip here. We can get a couch that pulls out. Always wanted one of those.”
“Thanks.” Yelena looks down at her hands. “You’re alright, you know? The lot of you. You’re good people.
“Thanks,” Marc says quietly.
“Gracias,” Jake agrega en voz baja.
“Hi, Jake.” Yelena smiles slightly. “Good to see you, too.”
“Express that by getting shot less,” Jake responde, mirándola seriamente. “We might not be here next time to stitch you up.”
“Yeah. I’ll bear that in mind.” Yelena looks at them. “Kate still out?”
“Yeah,” Marc confirms. “Out like a light.”
“Yeah. I came straight from France after doing a job to get her. She’s still got jet lag. We’re talking about getting an apartment together, you know. Somewhere pet friendly. She’s got a dog.”
“Yeah. That sounds nice. Glad you have her.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Yelena gives him a crooked smile. “You should come and visit us, you know? See what New York has to offer.”
Steven brightens. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to see the Met’s Egyptian artifact collection.”
“We’ll take you. It’ll be a good time.” Yelena taps her fingers against her wrist. “It might be time to settle down, y’know? Just for a little while. For a little bit. I liked New York, Kate offered to show me around. It would be good.”
“I admittedly don’t know very much about you,” Steven says. “But from everything I do know, I think you’ve earned it.”
“Thanks.” Yelena yawns. “I think I’d like to go back inside now.”
“Come on.” Marc stands, holding a hand out to help her up. “It’s definitely warmer in there.”
Yelena ends up falling asleep on top of Kate, Kate’s arm drowsily slung around her as Yelena snores lightly into her chest. Marc sits down next to Layla on the bed, yawning a little.
“How long til you have to be at work?” Layla asks.
Steven checks his watch. “Mm. About three hours.”
“Right. I’ll make us some coffee.“
“Thanks, love.“
Marc stretches a little. “I can make it.”
“Steven hates your coffee.”
“It’s not that bad.”
Steven sniffs. “Mate, you insist on drinking it black to try and prove your worth out of some machismo thing, and that is a horrible way to take a beverage. I’m rubbish, Layla’s a genius, and you don’t actually mind her coffee, so hush yourself.”
“There’s nothing wrong with-“
“I’m not listening to this argument again,” Layla says flatly. “So stop having it or I’m throwing the French press out of the window.”
Marc and Steven shut their traps at that, instead watching Layla bustle around the kitchen, her hair in a messy bun, wearing the socks with little sarcophagi that Steven had bought her.
“What?” she finally asks, glancing over her shoulder as she pours the water.
“They’re good kids-“ Marc starts.
“And we love you very much,” Steven completes.
Layla smiles and gently kisses their forehead. “Love you, too.” She looks over at Yelena and Kate. “Are we gonna have to invest in a pullout couch or what?”
“Could get a Murphy bed,” Steven says.
“Oh, I kinda always wanted one of those,“ Marc adds.
“The idea of you installing anything from IKEA is horrifying,” Layla says flatly. “And I will not be a part of it.”
“Me neither,” Jake murmurar.
“Tch. No fun, the lot of you. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I would so much rather watch you get shot at than try to assemble a Murphy bed.” Layla sits next to them. “Murder suicide.”
“Just us or you, too?”
“Only time will tell.” Kate lets out an obnoxious snore loud enough that Yelena pulls a face in her sleep and Layla snorts. “S’like sleeping with Marc.”
“I don’t snore that bad,” Marc protests.
“I dunno, mate. Pretty brutal.“ Steven stands and stretches. “Come on, then. Might as well put this time to good use. I’ve a new book about Ancient Egypt and the concept of gender I’ve been meaning to crack into.”