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Smiling. That should be something that comes natural to people, isn’t it? A warm sunny day, a puppy making a cute face, being around friends, a funny tv show, saving people. She should’ve at least had a laugh by now. Even a dry, annoyed one. But apparently, that’s become next to impossible, for one Yelena Belova.
It’s been about three months since the “New Avengers” have marked their stay at Avengers tower, and according to Bucky, Yelena “hasn’t even giggled.” And it “isn’t normal for the Yelena he knows.” It’s an odd, and a tad ironic, statement for The Winter Soldier of all people to make, but nonetheless, it’s had Yelena sitting in front of her bedroom mirror, in the middle of the night, staring intently at the ugly mass she sees — for hours on end.
This was Natasha’s old floor, she figured. With the ballet room at the end of the hall, the Vodka bottles tossed into corners and under old clothes, and the guns hidden behind the closet doors, it was no question. Her sister had stayed here, years ago. With her own group of misfits. She thought that it might bring her happier thoughts, knowing she was just a little closer to her sister. Just a little closer to what her life without Yelena was like. It’s not the most encouraging when you really think on it, having so many memories of a time she’ll never get back. She’s left with almost complete empty rooms and the lingering feeling of her. It’s fading, and she knows it.
Yelena huffs, frustrated with herself to be so outwardly vulnerable around this group. Enough so for one of them to notice. Sure, it was Bucky’s former expectation, to read people. He was trained just like she was. She hated to know that a Black Widow could be detected so easily, even by him. That she could be detected so easily by him, without her wishing to be. She hated everything about tonight, she thought. And she needed to fix it.
So, she sucked in a breath, and stared at herself once again. She began to make her face contort to form something of.. a smile, even a fake one, an ugly one. Anything to prove she could do it. Her lips curled, and her teeth were a tad visible — her cheeks pushed up and made her eyes squint just a little. It looked uncanny. And her stomach immediately started twisting into knots, her eyebrows furrowed and a gag was actively being fought down. She felt sick, utterly and entirely, sick. Seeing that look on her face. It revolted her. She fought back another gag, and stood up — moving out of her room and down the hall. Anywhere away from the mirror. She held her hand over her mouth, and her other over her stomach. Tears brimmed at her eyes, anger and frustration and sorrow boiling under her skin. That didn’t look anything like how she’d imagined. Not like how she looked with Natasha. Was it? Is that what Natasha saw in their first and final days together? Yelena’s gut turned again, and she sobbed into her hand. Her appearance was already something she detested, she saw it unbelievable that it was able to look worse. But to imagine that this was what her sister saw — Her emotions have built to a point she’s all too familiar with. She has no intention of stopping it this far.
She made it off the elevator in one piece, she always hated those damn things. Too unstable. Bulky. So many things. She hated a lot about herself too, she thought. Her attention was trailed off to the bottle of Vodka she left on the common floor counter a few days ago, she had.. borrowed it, from a nearby liquor store. Money isn’t something infinite for any of them right now. And with a group of raging alcoholics, plus.. nobody really likes them anyway, who really cares? Maybe getting hammered might somehow.. get a smile on her face. She wasn’t entirely sure how it’d work, but she knew a drink was her answer somehow. Her fingers curled around the neck of the bottle as she popped the top off, downing a few swigs of it before shaking her head, wiping the dribble from her lips and chin. She plopped down onto the common room couch, planning to drink the night down, and hopefully remove the mental images of that wretched creature she saw in the mirror, before she lost what would be her “lunch.”
Eventually, she slowly opened her eyes, hazily scanning her surroundings — she had forgotten exactly where she was, or how she got there, but assumed she must’ve blacked out, based on the spinning behind her eyes and the headache pounding her head already. It wasn’t unusual.
As she glanced to the windows, it was still dark out, relatively similar to how she remembers it looked when she came downstairs. She sighs, and slumps further into the couch with a low, annoyed whine. The couch doesn’t.. feel as soft, though. And is it moving? It can’t be moving.
Yelena’s body sits back up, groggy and cranky, and somewhat confused. She blinks away the blurriness to see.. Bob. Bob had been sitting on the couch, staring at her with those wide, deer-like eyes he always had. She sighed, and slumps back down again, waving her hand at him dismissively. “What do you want?” She mumbled, already half asleep again, not at all in the mood or mindset to talk. Yet he.. still found a way. He always does.
She heard him make a noise, a squeak, maybe? It made her huff out a breath, her eyes closed. “I..” She hears him start, “S- saw.. you out here.. And.. wanted to.. help..?” He always ended sentences as questions, it confused Yelena to no end. But she opens her eyes again, looking at him blearily. “I am fine, Bob, go back to bed.” She said to him blankly, being tired, drunk, and a tad on edge, this wasn’t the ideal outcome for her. Her head was hurting too much to have to talk the man through his emotions. Bob stammered a bit, fidgeting with his shirt nervously, Yelena huffed and took another sip of whatever was left in her bottle, waiting for him to form the words he wanted.
“Can..” Bob started again, making her quirk her eyebrow in questioning, and tilt her head to face him. “Can.. I stay here with you..? If- if you want.” He sighed out, finally having worded the sentence how he wanted. He still looked like he was about to faint from his nerves, nonetheless. And Yelena.. She blinked at him a few times, slowly. Almost confused, at him, or herself — She wasn’t entirely sure. She hadn’t even thought about it before she replied, “Yeah.”
She had more to say, at least she thought she did. Maybe she wanted to go back on that word right as she said it. But as her voice was growing lower as she began drifting off, and her arms go limp, she couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening to her right now, Yelena of all people, to let someone, a man, touch her — looking like this. It bothered her, but she looked at his face.. the hopeful look on it. And truthfully, couldn’t much care anymore. Something was different. Something with him. And nothing of which she wanted to name at this current moment. “Yeah.. yes, you can..”
Bob practically jumped to snuggle closer to her, her eyes opening gently as the soft force of him laying into her startled her body. He somehow found a way in the crevice of one of her arms, and she stared at him. Unfocused, but staring. It took her a while to settle, not sure if she had just made the biggest mistake, or achievement, of her life. She ultimately leaned her head down again, finally falling back asleep.
Bucky and the others found them the next morning, “I told you.” John grinned, making Bucky roll his eyes dismissively. “You win the stupidest bets.” Ava scoffed, gagging as if the man winning was a carnal sin. Bucky began shushing the two of them, to not wake the others and potentially send one into hysteria. Also, nobody wanted to hear John gloat with his obnoxiously loud vocal cords. John just chuckled smugly, and both Ava and Bucky half wondered why they stayed at the tower, instead of blowing it up. Alexei laughed at the display, and looked over to his sleeping daughter, of which he began hitting Bucky’s arm to show. When he, and admittedly, the rest of them, looked over..
Yelena.. had a smile on her face.
Something told them all at that moment, maybe this isn’t the worst place they could be.