Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows across the floorboards of the apartment, highlighting the floating dust motes in the air. Kate Bishop had perfected the art of pretending her apartment was cleaner than it actually was. The illusion held up surprisingly well—as long as no one looked too closely at the stack of takeout containers balancing on the kitchen counter, the quiver tossed carelessly beside the couch, or the bow she'd leaned against the bookshelf after promising herself she'd put it away "in five minutes."
That had been three days ago.
The television hummed softly in the background, forgotten halfway through some documentary she wasn't actually watching. A pot of macaroni boiled on the stove, the rich smell of butter and cheese beginning to fill the apartment, while Kate lay sprawled across her couch in an oversized college sweatshirt and mismatched socks, one arm hanging dramatically over the edge.
The knock at the door barely registered.
Without moving an inch, she raised her voice. "You can just leave the pizza outside! Thanks!"
Silence.
Then another knock.
Sharper.
Kate frowned but still didn't bother getting up. "I said you can leave it—"
The knocking came again. Three quick raps. Then five. Then, abruptly, the rhythm disappeared altogether, replaced by the unmistakable sound of fists hammering against the wood.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Kate shot upright. "What the fuck?"
The easy comfort she'd been wrapped in vanished instantly. Years of Clint's relentless training erased every trace of laziness from her body before her brain had fully caught up. Something was wrong. She slipped off the couch without making a sound, bare feet ghosting across the hardwood floor. One hand reached beneath the coffee table where, unlike any normal person, she kept an assortment of throwing knives taped underneath. "Never leave yourself unarmed," Clint had said. At the time she'd rolled her eyes. Now she silently thanked him.
The apartment fell eerily quiet. No footsteps. No voices. Only the low bubbling of the pasta behind her. Knife held in a reverse grip, Kate eased toward the door and peered through the peephole. Nothing. Just the dimly lit hallway. She frowned. Whoever had been pounding on the door wasn't standing there anymore. "Great," she muttered under her breath. "Love creepy surprises."
She unlocked the deadbolt with practiced care and cracked the door open only a few inches.
She never saw the kick coming. The door exploded inward with enough force to slam directly into her shoulder and cheek, sending her stumbling backwards with a curse. Pain bloomed across her face before she had time to process it. A figure dressed head-to-toe in matte black rushed through the opening. Masked. Silent. Efficient.
The first punch caught Kate across the jaw. The second drove into her ribs. She barely managed to block the third before a sweeping kick knocked her balance out from under her. Whoever this was... They knew exactly what they were doing. Kate retaliated instinctively. The knife flashed toward the attacker's side, forcing them to twist away just enough for her to drive an elbow toward their throat.
Missed.
A gloved hand caught her wrist. Another struck her stomach hard enough to steal the air from her lungs.
"Damn it—"
She twisted, ducked beneath another blow and managed to shove the intruder into the wall. For one hopeful second, she thought she'd found an opening. She was wrong. The stranger recovered almost lazily. A brutal leg sweep sent Kate crashing onto her back. The knife skidded across the hardwood, disappearing somewhere beneath the dining table.
Fantastic.
A knee planted itself against her torso before she could scramble away. Cold fingers wrapped around her throat. The pressure tightened. Kate grabbed at the attacker's wrists, every muscle straining as her lungs protested. She drove a knee upward, tried to buck them off, clawed for leverage—anything—but whoever was above her barely moved.
Stars prickled at the edges of her vision. "Who..." she rasped. Her voice cracked beneath the pressure. "Who the hell are you?"
No answer.
"What do you want?"
For a heartbeat, the apartment was filled with nothing except the hiss of boiling water and Kate's uneven breathing. Then— The hands disappeared. Just like that. The pressure vanished. The masked figure stepped away without another strike. Kate coughed violently, dragging in a desperate breath as she rolled onto one elbow. "What..."
Every instinct screamed at her to move. She pushed herself upright, chest heaving, eyes locked on the stranger. Her bow was only a few feet away, propped against the wall where she'd abandoned it earlier. She lunged for it. Her fingers barely brushed the grip before she froze. A laugh. Low. Warm. Entirely too amused. It echoed through the apartment. Kate's stomach dropped.
No. No way. She knew that laugh. She'd spent entirely too much time being annoyed by it.
"Yelena?"
The figure doubled over, shoulders shaking as the laughter only grew louder. Then, with exaggerated slowness, she reached up and peeled the black mask away. Messy blonde hair spilled free. Bright green eyes gleamed with barely restrained delight. Yelena Belova grinned like she'd just won the lottery.
"Oh," she breathed between laughs, "Kate Bishop..." She had to stop to laugh again. "You should have seen your face."
Kate simply stared. Every coherent thought abandoned her. The only thing louder than the ringing in her ears was the sudden realization that she'd just been strangled in her own apartment by the woman who had once promised they were going out for drinks and then disappeared for years. The shrill hiss of boiling water shattered the silence. A heartbeat later came the unmistakable sound of a pot threatening to boil over. Kate blinked. "Oh, shit." She spun on her heel and sprinted toward the kitchen, abandoning both her bow and the assassin still standing in the middle of her apartment. Starchy water spilled over the rim of the pot, hissing violently against the burner as she yanked it off the heat with an irritated groan. "For the love of—" She killed the flame and stood there for a long moment, both palms braced against the counter, her head hanging between her shoulders.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Her pulse still hadn't recovered. Her throat ached where gloved fingers had nearly crushed it, adrenaline still buzzing beneath her skin in uneven waves. Every muscle in her body trembled—not from fear anymore, but from the violent crash that always followed it. Behind her came the unmistakable sound of boots against hardwood.
"Kate Bishop?" Kate didn't answer. "Katie katie, come on." Yelena's voice carried that infuriating lilt of amusement she somehow never seemed to lose. "You have to admit..." A pause. "that was at least a little funny."
Silence.
"...No?"
Kate remained perfectly still.
Yelena approached another cautious step before raising both hands in theatrical surrender. "Fine. I will generously allow you time to process your emotional devastation." Another beat. "Very kind of me."
Kate inhaled slowly. Exhaled. Then she turned. Fast. Her fist collided with Yelena's jaw before the Widow had time to finish smiling. Yelena staggered back half a step. "What—" The second punch caught her square in the ribs. The third clipped her cheek.
Kate didn't stop. Weeks of pent-up frustration, years of unanswered questions, the terror of thinking she'd just been murdered in her own apartment—it all erupted at once. She drove another punch into Yelena's shoulder. An elbow toward her collarbone. A knee into her thigh. Yelena blocked none of it. She simply blinked in genuine surprise as blow after blow landed. "Okay," she grunted after taking another hit to the stomach. "This feels... deserved."
Kate shoved her hard enough that she stumbled backward into the kitchen island. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Kate snapped, breathing hard. "You break into my apartment, nearly choke me to death, and somehow I'm supposed to think it's funny?"
Yelena straightened slowly, pressing two fingers against her split lip. She looked down. A smear of blood. "...Huh." She wiped it away with the back of her hand before looking back up. "Well." A crooked grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. "That was... unexpected, Little Archer." She laughed quietly to herself. "I deserve this one." Another tiny shrug. "But..." Yelena tilted her head innocently. "I had to test you."
Kate stared. "Test me? You assaulted me."
"Mm."
"You strangled me."
"Briefly."
"You kicked my own front door into my face."
Yelena nodded to herself. "Your performance was..." She considered it carefully. "Acceptable."
"Acceptable?"
"You were almost failing."
Kate's eye twitched.
"But..." Yelena continued, "you are my favorite annoying archer." She smiled sweetly. "So I decided to let you pass anyway."
Kate simply blinked. "You're insane." She dragged a hand down her face. She couldn't believe this was happening. For one absurd second, she considered throwing Yelena back out the front door. Instead, something infinitely more ridiculous slipped out. "We were supposed to get that drink."
The words surprised both of them. Yelena's expression softened for the briefest fraction of a second. Then she sighed. "Ah. The drink."
Kate folded her arms. "The drink."
"Yes..." Yelena rubbed the back of her neck, looking almost embarrassed. "About that." A beat. "I was slightly preoccupied."
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Slightly?"
"You know..." Yelena counted on her fingers. "Deciding not to kill Clint Barton." Another finger. "You arresting your own mother." She clicked her tongue with exaggerated disappointment. "Very awkward family gathering, Katie Bishop."
Kate's glare sharpened.
"You arrested your own mother." Yelena stated, clearly amused by the sheer absurdity of the
situation.
"I remember." Kate hissed, her jaw tightening.
"Your very own mother." Yelena repeated, letting the words drawl out dramatically.
"I was there."
Yelena couldn't help herself. A small, delighted giggle escaped her lips.
Kate drove her knee directly into Yelena's stomach. The Widow doubled over with a strangled sound somewhere between a groan and an involuntary laugh. "Ow!" She pressed a hand against her abdomen. "Okay." Another wheeze. " That one definitely earned too."
"Asshole." Kate turned away before Yelena could see the corners of her mouth threatening to betray her. She reached for the saucepan, mechanically stirring the macaroni before dumping in an aggressively unhealthy amount of shredded cheddar.
Yelena watched her stir the bright orange mixture, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "I have a question," the Widow noted, leaning casually against the kitchen island. "Someone was trying to deliver a pizza to this apartment. Yet you are aggressively cooking macaroni. This is a very chaotic dinner strategy, even for you."
"The pizza is for Lucky," Kate answered mechanically, not looking up from the bubbling cheese. "It's his cheat day. He likes the crusts."
Yelena tilted her head. "Who is Lucky?"
As if summoned by his own name, the rhythmic click-clack of claws against hardwood echoed from the hallway. A golden retriever with one eye trotted lazily into the kitchen, his tail wagging in a slow, friendly sweep. He completely ignored Kate, his gaze fixing immediately on the blonde intruder. Yelena gasped softly. All traces of the deadly assassin instantly vanished. She dropped to her knees right there on the kitchen floor. "Oh, hello, beautiful boy," she cooed, her accent thickening with pure adoration as she held out her hands. Lucky happily closed the distance, burying his head into Yelena's chest.
Kate stared at the betrayal unfolding before her, the wooden spoon freezing in her hand. "Are you kidding me?" she demanded, her voice echoing in the kitchen. She glared at the dog. "Where were you? I was literally fighting for my life out there! I was about to be murdered in my own hallway before she took her mask off, you didn't even make a sound, and now you're hugging my assassin?" Lucky didn't even look at her. He just kept wagging his tail happily against Yelena's arm. Kate pointed an accusing finger at the dog. "Lucky! Attack! Get her!"
In response to the deadly command, Lucky enthusiastically licked Yelena's cheek, then moved down to lick the gloved hands that had, just moments ago, been wrapped around his owner's throat. Yelena burst into a bright, musical laugh, scratching the dog vigorously behind the ears. "He is a very good judge of character, Kate Bishop. He knows I am a friend."
"He knows you smell like violence and he's an idiot," Kate grumbled, turning back to her pasta. The familiar routine steadied her. A little. Her hands were still shaking. She hated that they were shaking. The realization settled unpleasantly in her chest. She hadn't just been startled. For a few terrifying seconds... She had genuinely believed she was going to die.
Yelena noticed. Of course she noticed. The Widow's teasing smile faded—not entirely, but enough. She leaned one hip against the counter. "Kate." No response. "I am sorry."
Kate paused. The words sounded strangely sincere. "For frightening you." A longer silence. "Not," Yelena added with impeccable timing, "for winning."
"There she is," Kate muttered. "I was worried she had been replaced."
Relieved that she'd managed to recover even the tiniest piece of their familiar rhythm, Yelena spread her arms dramatically. "Fine, we will finally have our drink."
Kate didn't look up. Yelena continued.
"We will have many drinks." Yelena offered, taking a step closer. When Kate still offered nothing but silence, the blonde continued, "I will buy all drinks." A heavy pause hung in the air, accompanied only by the sound of bubbling cheese. "I am rich enough now," Yelena added matter-of-factly.
Kate let out a soft snort, the ice cracking just a fraction. "I will even buy expensive Manhattan drinks that taste like soap," Yelena pressed, sensing her victory. "I know. I am making incredible sacrifice."
Kate finally replied. "That's very generous of you." She finally turned around, still clutching the wooden spoon like it could become a weapon at any moment. "You really think alcohol fixes this?"
"No." Yelena smiled. "But it is good place to start."
Kate let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "I really thought it was over." She scraped the spoon along the bottom of the pot without looking up, watching the cheese melt into the pasta instead of the woman standing in her kitchen. "I thought you'd walked away from Clint. I thought whatever this..." She gestured vaguely between them. "was, had finally ended." Her grip tightened around the spoon. "It's been years, Yelena." Only then did she turn to face her. "So why are you here?"
For once, Yelena didn't answer immediately. She drifted toward the kitchen island, her boots making almost no sound against the hardwood. She rested her forearms on the countertop, studying Kate with an expression that was far too unreadable for someone who usually wore every thought across her face.
"I wanted to see you."
Kate barked out a laugh. It wasn't amused. It hurt. "Seriously?" Her voice sharpened. "You kicked the first domino, Yelena. Maybe not all of them, but enough." She shook her head. "Everything spiraled after that." A bitter smile crossed her face. "My life got... complicated." Understatement of the century. "I don't have anything you want." She pointed toward the mangled front door. "So whatever game you're playing—get out."
Yelena simply shrugged. "Really?" She tilted her head. "Because I came here with a job offer."
Kate's eyebrows lifted despite herself. "A job."
"Mhm."
"That involved attempted murder?"
"I wanted to make sure your skills had not gotten rusty."
"You almost crushed my trachea."
"And yet..." Yelena smiled with infuriating satisfaction. "your trachea appears perfectly functional."
Kate stared. "I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I am considering it." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. What kind of job?"
"Oh, nothing too exciting." Yelena examined her fingernails with exaggerated indifference. "Just tiny favor."
Kate scooped up a spoonful of macaroni, blew on it, and tasted it. "I'm sure whatever shiny new team you're running with couldn't possibly need my help."
"Oh." Yelena hummed. "Them?" She shrugged. "They are fine, I guess." She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Bob is sweet."
Kate looked at her suspiciously. "Sweet?"
"Mhmm." Yelena hummed. Her eyes glinted with immediate amusement as she caught the edge in Kate's voice. She let out a soft, appreciative sigh that made Kate's jaw visibly tighten. "He is a very talented boy. Very strong. Very... eager to please."
Kate slammed the wooden spoon hard against the pot. "Right. Great. Good for him."
Yelena chuckled, a low, throaty sound, thoroughly enjoying herself. "The rest of them? They shoot things. They punch things. They're very competent. Bucky is very serious." She counted on her fingers. "John talks too much. Ava disappears whenever she wants. But..." A slow, wicked grin spread across her face. "They are not funny." She reached out, lightly tapping Kate's hand with one finger. "They are definitely not as smart." Another slow tap, her voice dropping a fraction. "Or nearly as pretty." She coughed theatrically into her fist. "And none of them happen to own one of the largest private security companies in New York."
"Excuse me?"
"What?" Yelena batted her eyelashes with exaggerated, dangerous innocence.
"Did you just call me pretty and then immediately bring up my security company?"
"I am manipulating you, Kate."
Kate narrowed her eyes and nodded her head in annoyance. "Yeah, I figured."
"I think I kinda helped with that."
Kate rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Fuck you." She brushed past Yelena's shoulder—not particularly gently—and carried the saucepan into the living room before collapsed onto the couch next to Lucky, who had lost interest in Yelena minutes ago with a tired sigh. Her legs stretched across the coffee table. She balanced the pot comfortably in her lap. Like this conversation wasn't completely deranged.
Behind her came the unmistakable sound of a refrigerator door opening. Kate froze. "Did you just open my fridge?"
"I am looking." Yelena's voice echoed off the refrigerator walls.
"You don't live here."
"I think apartment has enough space." she reasoned lightly, stepping back into view. Yelena emerged holding an oversized bottle of hot sauce with the satisfied expression of someone who had just discovered buried treasure. "There it is. My beautiful."
Kate blinked. "...You remembered where I keep the hot sauce?"
"I remember everything important." Yelena wandered toward the couch as though she owned the place, eyeing the available seating with exaggerated concentration.
The armrest. No. The opposite end, next to Lucky, away from Kate. Also no.
She frowned thoughtfully, then brightened. "Oh." Without asking, she simply lowered herself until her head rested comfortably in Kate's lap. Kate's entire body locked up. "What are you—" Instinct took over. She jerked the saucepan upward to keep the still-warm metal from landing on Yelena's face, accidentally creating the perfect space for the assassin to settle in even more comfortably.
Yelena sighed happily. "There." Lucky got up, briefly licked Yelena's face, and then went back to sitting in his spot. Yelena petted his face.
Kate stared at the ceiling. "Your lack of shame is becoming medically concerning. You should seek treatment."
"I tried. They said I was perfect."
Kate snorted despite herself.
Yelena smiled without opening her eyes. "I also appreciate that you made my favorite dinner."
"I made my dinner." Kate corrected pointedly.
"Our dinner."
"There is no 'our.'"
"There is now." She opened one eye and looked up at Kate. "I am very persuasive."
Kate sighed the deep, exhausted sigh of someone questioning every decision that had led to this moment.
Yelena opened her mouth expectantly. Kate looked down. "Are you serious?"
Yelena waited.
Kate waited.
Yelena continued waiting.
With the expression of someone accepting defeat at the hands of an exceptionally stubborn cat, Kate scooped up a spoonful of macaroni and shoved it into Yelena's mouth with considerably more force than necessary. Yelena made an offended noise around the bite.
After swallowing, she coughed dramatically. "Were you trying to feed me..."She coughed again. "or assassinate me?"
"Don't tempt me."
"My God, Kate Bishop." Yelena pressed a hand dramatically against her chest. "You are so violent." With a small bark, Lucky also looked at Kate as if to say she was being rude.
Kate looked down at the woman comfortably occupying her lap. "I am about five minutes away from completely losing my mind." She took another bite of macaroni. "So start talking."
The teasing smile finally slipped from Yelena's face. She sat up, abandoning Kate's lap with unexpected seriousness. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. "I know what you've been doing." Kate's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. "I know you've been using Bishop Security's infrastructure to quietly monitor gaps in the system."
She reached out and lightly tapped the tip of Kate's nose with one finger. Kate slapped her hand away almost instantly. "Don't."
Yelena ignored the warning. "You've been creating your own missions. You monitor emergency dispatches, security feeds, police reports..." Another shrug. "You just happen to appear wherever someone needs help."
"Coincidence. You can't prove any of that."
"I don't need to."
Hypothetically." Kate started, trying to maintain her indifferent facade.
"Mhm?" Yelena smiled knowingly, waiting for the trap to spring.
"If someone were doing something like that... How would you know?"
The smile disappeared. "The Thunderbolts have known for a while."
Kate blinked.
"They've been watching you."
Silence.
"They're impressed." Another silence. "They want you."
Kate slowly lowered the spoon into the pot. "Wait." She pulled her feet off the coffee table and set the saucepan aside. "For real?"
Yelena looked her dead in the eye. Completely expressionless. "No."
Kate groaned louder than she'd intended and punched Yelena squarely in the upper arm. "What was that for?!" She rubbed her arm with a grin that suggested she wasn't remotely offended. Then, before Kate could react, she flopped sideways once more and rested her head against Kate's thighs.
Kate immediately tried to shove her away this time. "No."
Yelena refused to budge.
"Move."
"No."
They wrestled awkwardly for several seconds, Kate trying to push her off while Yelena somehow remained completely relaxed through the entire ordeal. Eventually, Kate let out a long, defeated sigh. "You're impossible."
"I know."
Muttering something that sounded suspiciously like menace, Kate reached for the bottle of hot sauce Yelena had brought over. She poured an aggressively irresponsible amount into the macaroni. The cheese turned bright red. Yelena watched in horror. "Kate."
Kate took an enormous bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Her eyes watered instantly. "It tastes like shit." She glared down at Yelena. "I'm not surprised." Another bite. "It's your favorite."
Yelena gasped in theatrical offense. "You wound me." Then, finally, the smile faded. "I wasn't lying."
Kate looked down.
"I've been keeping an eye on you." Her voice was quieter now, dropping to a low, intimate register. "And not just because you are very fun to look at." She held Kate's gaze, shifting just a fraction against Kate's thighs to make sure she had her full attention. "Because I knew one day you'd be exactly the person I'd need. Something big is coming, they say. We may end up needing every hero we can find." She tilted her head, looking up at Kate from her lap. "We're building a database. The most comprehensive one we've ever attempted. We have resources, money, surveillance. What we don't have..."
She reached up, a single finger lightly tracing the fabric over Kate's knee before pointing directly at her chest. " is someone who thinks like you. Someone who knows how to find people who don't want to be found. Someone who notices the cracks everyone else overlooks." A faint, infuriatingly charming smile returned to her lips. "When they described the person they needed, I realized I already knew her. Plus..." She patted Kate's thigh softly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "...I am far too possessive to let anyone else have the pleasure of recruiting you."
Kate rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh, desperately hoping the dim lighting in the apartment was enough to hide the sudden, betraying warmth creeping into her cheeks. "You can drop the whole smooth-talking assassin act," she muttered, lightly swatting Yelena's hand away from her knee. "It's not going to work on me. Save the cheap lines for Bob."
Yelena's grin only widened, entirely unbothered by the rejection. "I don't know what you mean, Kate Bishop. I am simply being honest."
The room fell quiet.
Kate thought about it for a second and then looked down at the half-empty saucepan in her lap. Then back at Yelena. "If I'm doing this..." She spoke carefully. "I'm not sitting behind a desk. I want field work. I want to be there." A pause. I'm not promising anything tho. I have a life."
Yelena's answering grin was slow and unmistakably victorious. "In my experience..."
Her thick Russian accent curled around every syllable. "you are not that busy, Kate Bishop." She clasped her hands together in an almost comically earnest plea. "Pretty please?"