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Humiliation/Shame.
Kate is awkward, one sneaker grinding into the floor.
“Did you just hit on me?” Jessica asks. She has her arms folded and an eyebrow raised and she looks kind of like she just wants to text Carol about all this already.
It’s possible that Kate has a problem when it comes to dealing with her emotions regarding other people; she shrugs badly, says: “…kinda?”
Jessica’s mouth twitches. “Did Clint send you to do this? Like, some kind of apology gift?”
Kate isn’t blushing Kate isn’t blushing Kate isn’t blushing.
“No,” she says. “Um, last time I saw you things were, you know, bad.” She thinks: he’ll only let you down, Jessica’s mouth a thin sharp line, and the really shitty things Kate said about her later because, well, Kate hadn’t learned better about Clint or about herself yet. “And we had that horrible conversation that Billy pointed out didn’t pass the Bechdel test – yes, I get the irony – and I came to apologise, but, erm, apparently I hit on you instead. My bad.”
It’s really depressing that everyone Kate meets is super hot and has super powers and she apparently hasn’t learned self-control.
Jessica tips her head to one side. “Eh, let’s call the first part Clint Barton Syndrome; ask Bobbi about it sometime and then hide behind something heavy.”
“And the… other part?” Kate asks.
Jessica shrugs. “How are you any different from Clint?”
Kate grimaces. “Uh… my boobs are bigger?”
Finally, Jessica smirks. “Hey,” she says, “sold.”
Food.
This isn’t a date exactly. They’re both in the same place with a lot of fries, but frankly being a superhero just involves eating more junk food than is probably advisable; it’s quick, and helps replace all those calories you burn being thrown through walls.
That’s what Clint said, anyway, and now Kate comes to think of it, he’s probably not the person to ask for dietary advice.
“If this isn’t a date,” Kate says, and gets an eyebrow from Jessica in return, “then what exactly is it?”
Jessica shrugs, smacking Kate’s hand away from her curly fries; Kate knew she shouldn’t have ordered the boring straight ones, and, ouch, that’s a thought.
“‘Mentoring’,” she suggests, amusement glinting in her eyes, and Kate groans.
“That’s worse,” she says, “oh my God.”
Jessica snickers and bites into a fry. “You could probably use some,” she says, light but not, “I mean, you know-”
“Pretty sure I’m mentoring him,” Kate responds, “or, you know, buying him kale occasionally, anyway.”
Jessica laughs and Kate remembers Clint happy drunk, describing how goddamn great Jess is, Katie-Kate, so great, but everything goes to shit in the end and this is less about him than it used to be.
Jessica nudges Kate’s knee under the table with her own, quickly intimate. “You took the dog,” she allows, “that was hardcore.”
One of these days, they might move past this; for now, they still need to figure out where they fit, if they can fit at all.
Begging.
Kate’s had sex with, you know, an amount of super-people (and at least one actual alien), and there’s definitely something that’s just better about it than sex with regular people.
That’s about the only coherent thought she’s managed to have since she kissed Jessica to shut her up halfway through Jessica disparaging her Ikea furniture. Or, well, Jess really – “Kate, I’ve had my tongue in your mouth, you can probably move to the diminutives” – which is a whole other set of things to think about sometime not now.
Jess bites into Kate’s lower lip and Kate shifts against her, and they all wear clingy costumes – well, okay except for Tony Stark, who basically wears a metal cabinet that flies – but it’s different when you get to have those curves under your hands, when they feel like skin and reality.
“Please,” Kate says incoherently, losing the words into Jess’ mouth, shifting her hips and hitting the wrong angle, not enough, not quite there.
Jess pulls back enough to grin at her, hair curtaining her cheeks, and says: “patience, kid.”
If Kate could cover her face with her hands right now, she would.
“Oh god, don’t call me ‘kid’ when you’ve got four of your fingers inside me,” she breathes, and later on will probably remember saying this and bang her head against the wall; right now, she has priorities. Sex priorities.
Jess laughs, bites Kate’s ear. “Oh, you are a kid,” she says softly, but twists her hand anyway, and, oh.
Bathing.
They’ve used up most of the hot water and Kate suspects Jess’ hair will clog up her shower drain worse than her own does, but the Morning After Shower Of Possible Shame has now become a communal affair and is involving much more making out than Kate was anticipating. It’s pretty great.
“Do you think I get some kind of achievement sticker for banging both Hawkeyes?” Jess muses, hands full of Kate’s favourite shower gel.
Kate would be more horrified, but she already knows that Jess texted Carol that question as soon as she thought Kate was asleep; she doesn’t know the reply, though, because Jess’ phone is infuriatingly well-protected. Kate should ask someone to teach her something about decent hacking.
“Maybe you get a certificate with arrows on it,” Kate responds, and Jess’ eyes light up when she laughs.
Theoretically they’ve buried their hatchet and sorted out their bad blood and the sex was sort of an exciting bonus, but they shouldn’t do this again. Kate is pretty sure that they will, though. She hasn’t decided if she’ll tell Clint yet. They haven’t actually figured out a policy regarding exes; until this point, Kate was pretty sure they wouldn’t have to.
Still, you live and you learn.
“Pretty sure there’s a joke about spiders and bathtubs I can put in right now,” she muses, reaching over Jess’ shoulder for the shampoo.
“Just try it,” Jess warns, and Kate kisses her one more time before the water switches to cold.