Chapter Text
Kate Bishop knows she has a one-track mind; almost everyone she’s ever met has told her as much. She focuses so intently on one task that everything else fades into background noise, something that’s gotten her in trouble more than once throughout her life. Like now, as she’s trying to figure out how best to ration the coffee and sandwich she bought so that it lasts the whole day, and bumps into someone rounding the corner.
“Сука,” the blonde woman hisses, and Kate doesn’t have to speak the language to know it’s a curse.
“I am so sorry.” The front of the woman’s green coat is darkening with coffee, as well as the white shirt underneath. Kate reaches out with her napkin-hand but stops when she realizes she’s about to touch the other woman’s chest, and instead makes an aborted motion that looks like she’s waving the napkins in surrender like an idiot. “Um, do you want to come to my place?”
“Are you asking me out right now?” The woman looks like she’s one excuse away from murdering her.
“What? No! I live right across the street,” she says, and points for good measure, “Above the pizza place, the apartment literally right on top of it. You can get cleaned up, borrow some of my clothes, if you want. I think we’re about the same size.”
“Do you have a green coat?”
“Um, no. But I do have other coats?”
The woman sighs. “Fine.”
***
Kate briefly considers asking the woman to wait outside for a minute so she can tidy the place a little bit, but thinks better of it when she sees the woman glaring at her. Instead, she speed-walks around her loft-slash-office and begins piling the empty takeout containers and pizza boxes in her arms.
“That’s the bathroom,” she says with a nod in its direction. “Do you have a preference in, uh, shirts?”
“Surprise me,” the woman says, with a tone that says to not even try, as she closes the bathroom door behind her.
Opening her closet, Kate flips through the few clean shirts she has left and chooses one she hopes the woman won’t hate.
“I hung a shirt on the door handle,” she says after doing just that, “and also a plastic bag, for you to put your clothes in.”
“Thank you.”
While the woman changes, Kate puts all the trash she collected on the kitchen floor - not exactly a solution but at least most of it’s in one place now - and slumps at her desk. Dragging her discarded sandwich closer, she opens the wrapper and sighs when she finds it soggy and falling apart from the coffee.
“Guess I’ll starve.”
Pushing the mess to the side, Kate grabs the stack of files sitting at her desk and begins flipping through them, reading and muttering things to herself while separating the files into separate piles.
The sound of the bathroom door opening makes her look up, and she sees the woman walk out wearing the shirt she gave her: a graphic tee with a cartoon drawing of a sleeping cactus and text that reads ‘prickly when woken up’. The woman is looking down at herself, eyes slightly glazed over as if she’s having an identity crisis.
“Sorry, that was the only white t-shirt I had,” Kate says sheepishly. “You can choose which coat to borrow, if that makes you feel any better?”
“Do they also have silly drawings?”
“Nope, they’re just regular, monochrome coats.” She stands and gestures for the woman to follow as she goes up the stairs. Opening her closet, she gestures at the coats, all two of them. “Take your pick.”
Leaving the woman to make her choice, Kate walks back down the stairs. She doesn’t return to her work, however, instead looks at the woman running her hand down the sleeves of the coats. With her unoccupied hand, she reaches for her food and takes a bite, makes a face when the taste of soggy, coffee-flavored bread fills her mouth. It’s not as terrible as she was expecting it to be, however, so she continues chewing.
The woman ends up choosing the coat to the left, and shimmies her shoulders a little when she puts it on. Kate herself wore that exact combination of shirt and coat before, usually for quick trips like grocery runs or picking up her food order. The woman, however, pulls it off better than she ever could. It’s kind of unfair how pretty she is.
Slowly stepping down the stairs, the woman pulls out a flip phone - woah, Kate hasn’t seen one of those in forever - and begins pressing its buttons, each press more rapid and a bit angrier than the last.
“I have rice?” Kate offers.
“What?”
“I heard putting your phone in rice helps if it’s wet, since the grains absorb the… never mind, you can just use mine,” she pats her pockets, and when she can’t feel her phone, looks around. “My office phone, I guess.”
Nodding, the woman rounds the desk and puts her plastic bag down on the chair as she picks up the phone and begins dialing someone. Not wanting to just stand there awkwardly, Kate pretends to be busy by attempting to clean the kitchen and totally doesn’t try to listen in on the one-sided conversation that is part English and part language-she-doesn’t-speak-but-sounds-vaguely-Russian. Slowly gathering up the strewn about used dishes one by one, she deposits them in the sink - to ‘soak’, and definitely not because she’s lazy and doesn’t want to do the dishes right now.
Carefully placing the dishes on top of one another so the pile doesn’t tip over and splash her with dirty water later, Kate realizes that the woman isn’t speaking anymore. Rinsing her hands, she turns to see her looking at the giant corkboard on the wall, on which sits a map of New York with strings connecting various locations to newspaper clippings and post-it notes.
“I’m a private investigator,” Kate explains. Normally it’s something she would say with pride, but it somehow feels embarrassing to tell this woman.
The woman nods but doesn’t say anything or even looks at Kate, continues to stare at the board.
“Do you want anything to drink, before you go?” Kate offers, uncomfortable with the growing silence. “Water?”
“No.”
“Coffee?” The woman does turn to her at that, gives her an unimpressed look. “Right, probably not.”
Kate opens her fridge and begins rifling through its meager contents.
“Pickle juice I bought because it sounded healthy?”
The woman’s lips curl slightly upward. “No.”
“Beer? vodka?”
“Because I am Russian?” It’s not another ‘no’, so Kate counts it as a win.
“Because I have it.” she holds up the half-full bottle. “Is that a yes?”
The woman shakes her head. “It is too early for drinks. And American vodka is terrible.”
Kate checks the label. “Actually this was made in Canada.” The woman’s expression doesn’t change. “Um, a snack then? Carrot sticks? A date?”
“A date?”
“I ate all but one,” Kate admits, “Had to satisfy my sweet tooth somehow. Do you… want the last one?”
“No.” There’s definitely a smile on the woman’s face now. “I thought you were asking me out again.”
“Again?” Kate asks dumbly, before her brain processes what the woman said. “Ohnonono I wasn’t. Not because I don’t think you’re beautiful, because you are, like, a lot. It’s just I’m- normally I would, but this really wasn’t a good first impression, so.” Embarrassed, she opens the freezer door and all but shoves her head in it. “Do you want hot pockets? Frozen pizza?”
“No.” The woman’s voice is much closer now, and Kate peeks out to see her standing right next to her. “I am going to leave now. Thank you for your clothes.”
“Oh.” She’s not going to acknowledge what Kate said, then. “Okay.”
“You should change too.”
She looks down at her previously-grey-now-brown hoodie. “Yeah, good idea.”
Cool fingers take her chin and tilt her head up. Her lips part in surprise, and Kate sucks in a breath as she sees the woman’s eyes snap to them before meeting Kate’s. Slowly, as if to give Kate ample time to move away, the woman leans in, and Kate, impatient, meets her half way and presses their lips together.
“Was that okay?” Kate asks when she pulls away. The woman shakes her head. “Is that a ‘no, it was not okay’ or a ‘yes, but you’re-‘”
Instead of answering, the woman kisses her again. Kate has no complaints.
“You talk a lot.”
“Yeah, I’ve been- yeah.”
“I really do have to go,” the woman says as she steps back, and it takes considerable effort on Kate’s part not to step forward and maintain their prior closeness.
“Okay, you’re probably busy with… stuff.”
“Yes,” the woman agrees, turning and heading for the door. Following after her, Kate unlocks the door for the woman, and they share a smile and a nod before the woman walks out. Kate allows herself to watch the woman walk away for a full three seconds before she closes the door, and turning around, she leans against it with a sigh.
“Idiot,” she mutters to herself, thunking her head on the wood. Glancing at the space the woman was occupying, she freezes when she sees the plastic bag sitting on her chair. “Oh shoot.”
Kate hits her hip against the corner of her desk as she runs over to grab the bag, and has to hobble the distance to the door. Swinging it open, she shouts,
“Wait! You left your- ” clothes, she almost says, before realizing how that would sound, “-things!”
The retreating footsteps stop then start to get louder, and soon enough the woman comes into view again as she climbs up the stairs and towards Kate. There’s the faintest of blushes on the woman’s cheeks, and the hint of embarrassment, evidence that she isn’t perfect, makes her more endearing.
Kate holds out the bag, and their hands brush as the woman takes it from her.
“Thank you.” The woman doesn’t immediately leave like Kate expected her to, quicken her pace to make it to wherever she needs to be. Instead she looks like she considers something before she asks,
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Please.” It’s a no-brainer, really.
“So polite,” the woman murmurs, and leans in. Instead of Kate’s lips, however, she tilts her head and presses her lips against Kate’s cheek. It somehow feels more intimate, and Kate feels her cheeks flush as the kiss lingers.
Her intercom rings then, not fazing the woman but making Kate jump.
“Sorry, that’s probably my neighbor.” Leaning back into her house, she presses the button to buzz him in, and jogs past the woman and down the stairs. “Oh my gosh Grills, did you clear out the whole store?” she asks when she sees how many grocery bags he’s holding. “How did you even carry all this here on your own?”
Taking some of the bags from him, Kate turns and nearly runs into the woman, who’s holding the door open for them.
“Oh, thanks.”
She makes her way up the flights of stairs and helps Grills put away all the stuff he bought, which seem to be mostly supplies for the weekly rooftop cookout. When she comes back down, the woman is gone, and Kate realizes that she never asked for her number, or even her name.
“Crap.”