Chapter Text
Clint Barton was currently in full "responsible brother" mode, which mostly involved pacing his living room and vibrating with anxiety while Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova shared a bowl of mac and cheese on his sofa.
"She’s being way too secretive," Clint muttered, gesturing wildly. "And in our world, secretive means dangerous. What if she’s seeing a drug lord? A Mafia enforcer? Or—god forbid—an assassin?"
Natasha and Yelena paused, spoons halfway to their mouths. They shared a long, slow look, both fully aware of the irony.
Yelena turned her gaze toward Natasha, pointing a spoon at Clint. "Natasha, why exactly are you friends with this man? His brain is like a very loud, very confused bird."
"He has a farm," Natasha offered simply. "And he's surprisingly good at fixing things."
"I'm being a responsible mentor" Clint insisted. "Nat, you’re already looking after that group of men targeting young women. This is just tactical multitasking. Yelena, you’ve got nothing but time lately—you're in, right?"
Yelena recoiled. "Oh, hell no. I am a highly trained instrument of death, Barton. I am not going to meddle with a teenage love life. I have an image to maintain."
Natasha leaned in, her voice dropping to that dangerous, calm silkiness. "I'll hide every single one of your tactical vests. The ones with the many, many pockets. Besides, you are not leaving me alone with this one; I can only handle so much 'Dad Energy' in one day."
Yelena froze. "You wouldn't. It is the perfect amount of storage."
"Try me. You’ll find the Soul Stone before you find those jackets. Plus, it’ll keep your skills from getting rusty."
Yelena looked at Natasha in betrayal, then jabbed a finger toward Clint. "We are not even friends!" she shouted, though the lack of an immediate exit suggested the threat to her pockets was working.
-x-
The Stakeout
The next week was a masterclass in wasted elite talent. Yelena reluctantly joined the "responsible brother" routine, following Kate through the city for days.
Day 1: Clint perched on a freezing gargoyle until his knees popped.
Day 3: Natasha blended into a coffee shop for six hours, drinking enough espresso to see through time.
Day 5: Yelena, camouflaged in a park bush, watched Kate spend three hours trying to decide which organic dog treats Lucky preferred.
"She is doing nothing!" Yelena hissed into the comms. "This is not the life of a girl dating a kingpin. This is the life of a person who forgets why she walked into a room."
By the end of the week, they gave up. Kate showed absolutely no sign of seeing anyone at all.
-x-
The Reveal
A few days later, Clint decided to drop by Kate’s apartment for a surprise visit. He was only with Natasha this time; Yelena had flatly refused to join them, claiming she would rather go back to the Red Room than waste one more second of her life "tracking a teenager who buys too much kale."
Inside the apartment, the atmosphere was a lot more relaxed than the stakeout. Kate was sitting on the sofa, leaning back against the cushions, while Yelena was hovering over her, a playful smirk on her face. They had been arguing—as they often did—about whether or not a vest counted as "armor," but the argument had dissolved into comfortable, breathless laughter.
Yelena had reached out, her fingers ghosting over the collar of Kate’s shirt, pulling her just a fraction closer. Kate’s breath hitched, her hands finding purchase on Yelena’s waist. The world outside the apartment didn't matter. Yelena tilted her head, her eyes dropping to Kate's lips, and Kate began to lean in, closing the final inch of space between them.
THWACK.
The door hit the wall as Clint burst through with the confidence of a man who thought he was bringing bagels.
"Kate! We’re here, and—"
The trio stopped dead.
The scene was chaotic. Kate and Yelena were tangled together on the sofa, mid-embrace, having clearly been interrupted just as they were about to kiss.
"WHAT?!" the three of them shouted in unison, the sound echoing off the walls.
Kate leaped three feet into the air, falling off the couch with a thud, while Yelena scrambled to look busy, her face turning a deep shade of red.
Clint wailed, throwing his hands up in total defeat. "You're dating the assassin.. I warned you about the assassins, and you picked the one that tried to kill me.."
"To be fair, Clint," Natasha interrupted, "everyone here has tried to kill you at least once. It’s practically a love language."