Summary: When two mismatched teams are forced to merge into a single unit, the real mission becomes figuring out how to function together. For Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, that's proving considerably harder than any op they've run before, and considerably more complicated than either of them is willing to admit.
A/N: Fair warning, this is my first fic. My girlfriend @bishovapls is the actual writer in this house, I'm just someone who has read basically every Bishova fic known to lesbian kind and had an idea for my own. Since then, she and @nattaik have relentlessly bullied me into posting it, and I'm choosing to hold them both personally responsible for however this goes😉
Word Count: 3,117
Chapter 1 begins below the cut. You can also find the fic on AO3
Chapter 1 - Unfriendly Fire
The warehouse loomed ahead, just outside the city limits, quiet, save for the hum of floodlights and distant echoes of footsteps. Inside, crates were being unloaded, whispered orders exchanged in Russian-accented English. Stark-grade tech rested beside military-grade firearms, volatile, dangerous, and in the wrong hands, catastrophic.
It was supposed to be a simple mission.
Kate Bishop crouched behind a crate, bow raised and ready, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the cavernous interior. Beside her, Kamala adjusted her earpiece and whispered, “Okay, I’m getting three heat signatures moving left. Probably headed for the central vault.” She paused. “We get in, neutralise, secure the gear, and get out.”
Kate smirked. “You sound like Sam.”
Kamala lit up. “Omg, stop, really?! Thank youuuu!” almost instantly losing her professional demeanour.
From above, Pete’s voice crackled gently over the comms, laced with faux concern. “Heads up, there’s motion on the second floor. I think they’ve got patrols, wait, nope. Just a pigeon. Aggressively territorial pigeon.”
Cassie snorted. “Your spider-senses didn’t tell you it was a pigeon?”
“It’s a danger sense, not… like… species-specific,” Peter said, genuinely confused that she didn’t know that already.
Cassie frowned, squinting toward the ceiling. “How in the hell are pigeons dan—”
A sharp “shh” and a hand signal from Kate cut her off.
Then, a sound. Footsteps that weren’t their own.
Kate froze. Kamala did too. All three girls moved as one, weapons up, edging around a stack of crates.
As they turned the corner, another group appeared in front of them. Guns drawn, faces tense. But Kate barely saw them.
Because at the front stood a face Kate knew better than she wanted to. Green eyes, blonde hair, a little shorter than she remembered.
“Yelena?” Kate blurted.
Yelena Belova’s gaze sharpened. “Kate Bishop,” she said, lowering her weapon without easing the tension in her shoulders, almost with annoyance.
Kate did the same, her mouth catching up before her brain could stop it. “Wow. Hi. Your… hair.” The words slipped out before she could stop, staring at the short, tousled strands.
She blinked, scrambling. “I mean…you’re here?”
“And you’re not supposed to be,” Yelena said flatly. No bite, just that cool, unmistakable Belova irritation.
Kate bristled. “I’m supposed to be here! You’re the one who’s not, hence the…” she gestured wildly between them, hands flailing in a blur of awkward emphasis…“this!”
Yelena sighed, unimpressed, looked up to the ceiling almost as if to say ‘give me strength’ and waved a dismissive hand as she turned away. “Go home, Kate.”
Kate crossed her arms, a defiant smirk tugging at her lips. “Can’t,” she said, tilting her chin up. “I’m on a mission.” She gave a little shrug, all faux-casual, like it was no big deal.
From behind Yelena, Ava emerged from the shadows, eyes glinting with amusement as she sized Kate up. “Ohh... this is the Kate Bishop,” she murmured, voice lilting with mockery as she glanced sidelong at Yelena.
Peter’s voice echoed from the rafters, loud and unfiltered by comms. “Is this the same Yelena who left you on read?”
Kate glared up at him.
Cassie, perking up at the very familiar name, leaned around Kate’s shoulder, squinting. “Damn, I get looking past the attempted assassination on Clint now.” Narrowly avoiding Kate’s frustrated elbow, she darted towards a nearby crate.
“Why didn’t you text her back?” The new voice crackled softly through Yelena’s comms, all curiosity.
Yelena blinked, turning her head away from Kate. “Shut up.”
Kate’s hackles rose immediately. “You shut up!” all the petulance of a sassy child.
Yelena turned to Kate and threw her hands up, exasperated. “Not you!”
A quick cascade of voices followed.
“He’s on our comms—” Yelena tried to explain.
“Yeah, Bob’s our friend—” Ava chimed in.
“He is very polite!” Alexei added proudly, appearing behind them with a booming voice and an oversized smile.
“Enough!” Yelena snapped, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.
John Walker stomped into view, shield slung across his back, expression sour. “What is going on? Why are there teenagers here?”
Peter dropped down next to Cassie with a smirk. “Technically? Not teenagers anymore.”
Walker scowled. “You look twelve.”
“I have a mask on dude? How would you even know?” Peter zipped off mid-sentence, narrowly dodging a swinging beam.
At the same time, Cassie and Ava reached for the same blinking control panel on a suspiciously humming crate.
“I got this,” Cassie said.
“Don’t touch—” Ava began.
Click.
BOOM.
The explosion tore through the eastern wall. Flames roared upward, illuminating the rafters as crates splintered and klaxons screamed to life.
Cassie and Ava stood in the smoking wreckage, coughing in unison.
Kate ducked as debris rained down. “Seriously?!”
“So when I said don’t touch, you heard what exactly…?” Ava scolded.
John groaned. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork we’re going to have to make Bob do?”
“Guys,” Kamala’s voice cut through the comms, panicked now. “There’s fire. Also, a lot of very angry people with very real guns. Just saying!”
Kate nocked an arrow with a grunt. “Great.”
The warehouse erupted into chaos.
“Guess we’re done with stealth,” Bob muttered through the comms, his tone dry.
Yelena growled in annoyance and sprang upward, catching the edge of a catwalk and pulling herself into cover as bullets began flying. “Kate,” she barked. “Just…take cover and don’t get in the way!”
Kate fired an arrow from below Yelena into a power junction, killing a spotlight. “I know what I’m doing.”
Yelena didn’t glance down. “Ok, don’t get shot.”
Scowling, Kate loosed another arrow. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
A soldier rushed Cassie, only to be swatted aside like a bug as she embiggened with a thunderous stomp. Ava phased through a steel girder and dropped three mercs before they could blink.
Peter web-zipped across the room, catching a merc mid-jump, only to turn and find John already mid-punch toward the same target.
“Oh. Sorry, man. Did you call dibs?”
“Find your own enemies, bug boy,” John grunted.
On the far side of the room, Kamala stretched a rubbery arm to yank Alexei out of the way of a falling beam.
“Oh, that is the coolest! You are very stretchy girl.” Alexei smiled mid-punch.
Kamala squealed, starstruck. “Oh my gosh, you’re the Red Guardian!”
“Da!” Alexei beamed. “From the cereal boxes.”
“Can I get a selfie later?!” Kamala was practically bouncing on her feet.
“Of course! I flex, you pose”
Yelena and Kate both dove behind the same stack of crates. Kate caught her breath, while Yelena seemed unfazed.
“So... how’ve you been?” she asked awkwardly, nocking another arrow.
Yelena stared at her. “What is with you and the small talk while fighting?”
Kate shrugged. “Oh, thought we were taking a breather. My bad, continue!”
They both emerged from behind the crate. Yelena ducked beneath a wild swing from one of the goons, catching his arm and flipping him over her shoulder with practised ease. A second rushed at her from behind, but before she could turn, an arrow zipped past her head and struck the man’s thigh, sending him crashing down.
“You’re welcome,” Kate called proudly from a few feet away, loosing another arrow into a flickering light fixture to plunge part of the room into shadows.
Yelena didn’t look back. “Oh yes, thank you for almost hitting me.”
“I didn’t?!” Kate nocked another arrow, sidestepping a charging attacker and jabbing him with the end of her bow before swinging it around and cracking it across his back.
Yelena roundhouse kicked someone into a stack of crates, then rolled her eyes. “You are still so reckless.”
Kate scoffed, flipping up to a catwalk and firing a grappling arrow to yank a loose beam down onto two enemies. “You’re still bossy.”
Yelena landed beside her on the catwalk in one smooth motion, barely winded. “You are being annoying.”
Kate huffed. “You’re more annoying,” she muttered, already regretting how petulant it sounded. To cover it, she fired an arrow that burst in a crack of blinding light.
Yelena shielded her eyes. “That was unnecessary.”
Kate grinned. “That’s your opinion.”
Yelena looked at Kate, her usual sharpness dimming for just a second. There was something in her eyes, not judgment, but something else. Her voice dropped, almost gentle. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Kate’s smile faded. Her jaw tightened. “Stop saying that,” she snapped, the words sharper than she intended. Annoyance bled through, not just at Yelena, but at the echo of doubt she already fought off daily.
Another wave of mercs burst through a side door. Yelena shoved Kate out of the way and slammed into the nearest attacker.
All around them, the two teams clashed, not just with their enemies, but with each other. Every move seemed part miscommunication, part competition, as if they were trying to prove something while pretending they weren’t watching each other.
“This is a mess,” Ava muttered under her breath.
Bob’s voice crackled through the comms again, oddly domestic. “Oh, speaking of mess, I finished the dishes.”
—
Tactical Gear Room, Post Mission.
The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Yelena peeled off her tac vest, the scent of sweat and gunpowder still clinging to the fabric. Across the bench, Ava tugged off her gloves with a sharp snap and let them drop to the floor.
“They’re coming to the debrief,” Ava said, glancing at Yelena through the mirror.
Yelena paused mid-motion, jaw tightening. “I do not understand why.”
“Valentina invited them. Sam too, apparently. She wants…what did she say? ‘Synergy.’” Ava mimed air quotes, her voice dripping with disbelief.
Yelena scoffed, dragging a hand through her damp hair. “Of course she does. She’s already imagining how good they’ll look on posters.”
Ava raised an eyebrow as she pulled her top over her head. “You mean Kate Bishop?” She exaggerated the name, mimicking Yelena’s clipped, accented tone.
Yelena’s glare in the mirror was sharp. “No.”
Ava leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, smile growing. “Did you see the look she gave you when she realised it was you? So cute.”
Yelena rolled her eyes and bent down to unlace her boots. “She should not be here.”
“Mhm.” Ava hummed, clearly amused. “You kinda had the same look.”
Yelena turned, fixing her with a warning stare. “Don’t.”
Ava held up both hands in mock innocence. “Just saying. There was a vibe.”
Yelena scoffed. “The vibe was irritation. She is very…irritating.”
Ava slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, still smirking. “Sure. Do you mean... frustrating? Like, sexually frustrating?”
Yelena let out a groan. “Please stop talking.”
Ava stepped toward the door. “Fine. Just maybe tell Valentina not to hang too many Bishop posters in the training room. Wouldn’t want you getting distracted.”
“Out,” Yelena snapped.
Ava chuckled as she slipped into the hallway. “You’re right, let’s go debrief... with Kaaate Bishoooop.”
Yelena exhaled hard and stood up, bracing herself before heading to the debrief room.
—
The sleek boardroom was stark, steel and glass, with floor-to-ceiling one-way windows shutting out the world beyond. A long polished table dominated the space, a glowing holographic pad flickering softly at its centre. Sam and Bucky stood side by side at the far end, speaking in low, hushed tones.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and Yelena, Ava, John, Alexei, and Bob stepped inside.
Yelena’s eyes locked immediately on Kate.
At the table, Kate sat with a bright, unguarded smile, twirling the glowing holographic interface between her fingers in awe. Beside her, Peter leaned in, eyes wide. “Whoa,” he breathed, captivated by the display’s shifting light.
Yelena’s gaze lingered. That kind of light didn’t last here, not for long in this world. She looked away, a sharp, unwelcome twist settling deep in her chest.
As they took their seats, Kamala waved excitedly at Alexei, who grinned and waved back like a humble celebrity. Peter gave John a stiff salute, immediately regretting it, looking down at his hand like it acted on its own in embarrassing him.
Cassie leaned in close to Kate, voice low and teasing. “Meeting her dad already? Damn, lesbians do move fast.”
Kate didn’t respond, her gaze drifting back to Yelena, who was deliberately not looking at her now, eyes fixed elsewhere. That only made the tight set of Yelena’s jaw more noticeable. The familiar flicker of tension flared just beneath Kate’s practised smile, irritation bubbling under the surface.
Valentina entered last, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. She paused at the head of the table, eyes lingering on Kate before shifting to Yelena with a knowing smirk.
Yelena met her gaze with a sharp, warning look, silent but unmistakable.
“Good. Everyone’s here,” Valentina said smoothly, commanding the room.
Sam stepped forward, tapping the edge of the table. “Alright. Standard mission debrief. We’ve got footage and field notes to run through.”
Valentina turned to Kate’s side with a saccharine smile. “If Sam’s team wants refreshments, there’s a selection right here. All-natural. Very health-conscious,” She nodded toward a table by the window. “I’m watching my figure,” she added with a playful wink at Kate.
Yelena eyed Valentina, muttering something sharp in Russian under her breath, fingers tapping the table in frustration.
Kate returned a polite smile. “We’re good, thank you.”
The holographic display shifted in the centre, flickering through explosions, body cams, and chaos from the mission.
Bucky folded his arms, nodding toward the screen. “Alright. Let’s walk through what went wrong.”
Sam adds slowly, voice level, “Apparently we all had the same objective. Civilian safety. Neutralise the arms deal. Secure the tech.”
“Which we did,” Kate said immediately.
“With maximum property damage,” Yelena muttered.
Kate turned to her, brows raised. “Oh, I suppose letting the crate detonate was our fault?”
Kamala raised her hand. “Um... can I just say I think we all did great on this mission, considering the circumstances?”
“No,” Ava said, deadpan.
Peter whispered to Kamala, “She’s scarier up close.”
Walker stared at Kate with a smirk, turning to Yelena. “This is Hawkeye’s little apprentice?”
Yelena’s eyes snapped to Walker. “Shut up, John.”
Kate blinked, surprised. She didn’t say anything, but the moment hung in the air.
Valentina’s tone cut through the tension like a knife, syrupy sweet. “Clearly, there’s a lot to work on; luckily, Sam’s team has shown remarkable potential, despite certain… setbacks.”
Yelena’s finger tapping quickened, trying to keep her composure. “They are undertrained.”
Kate shot back quickly, “We are trained. Just because we don’t do it your way you don’t like it! You keep calling us kids?!”
Yelena leaned forward, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Kate Bishop, you shot a foam arrow at a man holding a grenade.”
Kate didn’t miss a beat, responding petulantly, “And it worked.”
Yelena raised an eyebrow, “You fight fire with Play-Doh!”
“Okay,” Kate said, pushing forward in her chair. “Let’s talk about what actually went wrong.”
“Your entrance?” Yelena offered, tilting her head, mocking.
“Your ego,” Kate shot back without missing a beat.
Ava leant back in her chair, arms crossed and brow arched. “This is productive.”
Peter raised a hand timidly. “I feel like this was more of a communication thing rather than, like... a skill thing?”
Kamala nodded quickly. “Yeah, exactly, like too many cooks in one kitchen. With fire. And explosives.”
But Kate and Yelena weren’t listening. Their focus was locked solely on each other.
Kate leaned in, voice low but firm. “We didn’t screw up. We did what we were trained to do.”
Yelena leaned in, a scoff escaping her lips as she stared straight into Kate’s face. “Trained? Please. You trained by binge-watching Clint Barton videos on YouTube.”
Kate’s jaw tightened. “Oh come onnn, you know that’s not true.”
“Oh yes, all your trophies. If we ever have to fight a teenage gymnastics team, I’ll give you a call, да?”
Kate’s smile turned sour. “You, call? Doubt it.” she muttered under her breath.
Yelena’s smirk faltered, just for a beat. Her jaw flexed, but she said nothing.
Kate pushed on, voice firm. “What do you think I’ve been doing the past four years? I’ve been training nonstop.”
Cassie leaned toward Peter and whispered, “Are they gonna fight or kiss?”
Peter squinted with uncertainty. “Yes.”
Yelena rolled her eyes. “Sure. A few weekends on Clint’s farm, a couple months with Sam, and suddenly you think you’re ready for this world?”
Kate narrowed her eyes. “I am read— Wait…how do you—?”
Sam clapped his hands once, drawing attention. “Listen, we only need one team.”
The room erupted in overlapping voices, protests flying from both sides of the table. Everyone spoke at once, defending their teams, pointing fingers, and talking over each other in a chorus of disbelief, pride, and frustration.
Kate’s voice was sharp, desperate, “You can’t just—"
Yelena overlapped her, voice cool and cutting. “We’re not the problem here—”
Bucky slammed his metallic arm down onto the table with a force that made the room fall silent.
They all froze.
Sam raised an eyebrow, his tone calm but firm.
"We’re saying we’re merging the teams. One team, same mission."
Kate blinked, glancing at Yelena, clearly confused. "Wait, what?"
Yelena scoffed and looked away. “This is a mistake.”
The protests hadn’t even fully died down when Sam raised his voice above the noise, visibly tired. “You think we wanna do this?” He gestured between himself and Bucky, “I already know that this is going to be a nightmare, but we can’t risk having two separate, uncoordinated teams.”
Valentina leaned forward with a satisfied smile, steepling her fingers.
“Oh, come on. This is perfect. You’ve got the Thunderbolt experience, and then there’s the legacy kids! Talented, marketable, pretty.” She turned to Yelena with a grin.
Yelena’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly. She didn’t say anything, just sent Valentina a dry, withering glance, then flicked her gaze to Kate, who was looking at her, then quickly away again, jaw ticking slightly.
Valentina went on, undeterred. “The Next Generation of Avengers. I can already see the posters.”
Ava and Yelena exhaled and shared a look: called it. The silent exchange between them said it all.
Bucky spoke next, "It’s either this or no Avengers at all. Your choice."
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded, silently watching the room absorb the blow.
Kate and Yelena exchanged a long, silent glance; not quite anger, not quite acceptance, just a mutual, reluctant understanding. After a beat, they turned back to Bucky and Sam.
“Fine,” they said in unison.
Sam and Bucky shared a look across the table, not surprise, not even frustration. Just the dull-eyed recognition that they now share custody of a dysfunctional patchwork of mercenaries and super-teens.
—
Comments, likes and reblogs are encouraged due to my insatiable praise kink and need for constant validation 🥰
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A/N: Finally got around to writing the mission! Is it toxic for me to enjoy jealous angry Yelena?👀
As always, let me know what you guys think! 💚💜
Word Count: 10,302
Chapter 7 begins below the cut. You can also find the fic on AO3
Chapter 7 - Miss Bishop
They'd gone through the plan so many times at this point that Kate could have recited it forwards, backwards, and probably in poorly pronounced Spanish.
Which meant her brain allowed for a certain percentage of her attention to be spent on something considerably less useful.
Analysing Yelena.
Something was different, not dramatically, but enough that she felt the shift, and Kate had been trying to decipher what it was for approximately three hours without success. Yelena was always so stoic and unreadable, but since this morning her demeanour had become ever so slightly more legible. Almost softer.
Kate had a feeling it was connected to the panic attack in some way, but that explanation didn't quite cover it, and the gap between what she could explain and what she could feel was where all the trouble lived.
Because she was ninety-nine percent sure she'd caught Yelena's eyes in the reflection of her mirror this morning, darkening, just for a second, before snapping away. And that made no sense to her at all, so the more she turned it over the more she convinced herself she'd imagined it.
She was probably imagining it.
Almost certainly.
Throughout the briefing Kate contributed where she was supposed to, watched the floor plan, answered questions. But in the margins of all of that, in the spaces between sentences, she was watching.
They bickered a few times during the briefing but it felt different than their arguments over the past week, it was lighter, and decidedly less heated…in certain ways, because there was multiple times that a verbal jab was delivered with a smirk, or a ghost of a smile on her face.
She filed it away, adding it to the list of things to go over in her head a million times.
Ava's feet were up on the table, fidgeting with one of Lucky's tennis balls, boredom prominent on her face, as Pete, Kate and Yelena stood around the blueprint in the centre of the table.
"Can we address something?" she said, swinging back and forth in her chair and looking between Kate and Peter with the expression of someone about to extinguish her boredom at someone else's expense.
Peter looked up from the table. "Oh come on, what else could there possibly be?"
Kate stood to full height and placed her hands on her hips. "What is it?"
Ava gestured between Kate and Peter and shot a small smile in Yelena's direction. "Do you think people will buy them as a couple?"
Yelena's eyes sparkled with mischief, taking the bait immediately. "Hmm. More little brother than boyfriend, no?"
Kate rolled her eyes, she'd clocked they were messing with them, but Pete clearly hadn't gotten the memo, because he threw both hands in the air. "Little brother?! I'm literally older than her!"
Kate tilted her head slightly and added, under her breath, "Technically you were blipped and I wasn't, so biologically, I'm older."
Pete shot her an incredulous look. "Dude, not helping!"
Yelena, clearly in full stride now, continued. "I do not think it is the age."
"Yeah," Ava chimed in. "It's something else right?"
Pete turned around, hands firmly clasped at the back of his head, half-looking at the ceiling. "It's my height, isn't it?" he shrugged.
Yelena tilted her head. "Maybe that is it. You are too short for her." She delivered it flatly, and then turned to Kate with a look that was waiting for something.
Kate's eyebrows rose. She crossed her arms, turned her entire body toward Yelena, and looked down at her. "Bold of you to assume I don't like ‘em short."
She held eye contact. Your move.
Yelena looked up at her, the corner of her mouth pulling slightly, and Kate caught it, the brief, almost imperceptible squeeze of her fist around the pen in her hand.
"I am secure in my height!" Pete announced, slightly too loudly for that to be entirely true, "Plus Kate agreed to wear her shortest heels, so it'll be fine!" He was clearly unaware of the silent battle going on between the two women.
Kate held Yelena's gaze a beat longer than she should have before finally pulling her eyes away. Noted.
"Speaking of what we're wearing," Kate said, steering them back on track, "did you guys sort the lanyards and name badges?"
"Yep, and both uniforms have the same base," Ava said, catching the tennis ball and sitting up slightly. "Which means we can skip the costume change entirely."
"Nice, so you can go straight to the staff entrance on the east side?" Kate confirmed, leaning over the blueprint and scanning for the position markers. Peter's was red, Ava's was white, Kate's was purple, obviously, and Yelena's was green.
Before Kate could reach for them, Yelena moved.
She stepped in close, closer than the table required, and leaned across Kate to reach the markers, her chest brushing Kate's forearm, the warmth of her pressing briefly along Kate's side as her arm reached past her. She was unhurried about it, deliberate, even. She moved Ava's marker first, then her own, her forearm grazing Kate's as she pulled back.
She straightened up beside Kate, close enough that Kate could still feel the warmth of where she'd been.
"So—" she looked at the markers, then up at Kate, "—this position?" her voice coming out slightly lower than usual, looking up at Kate with a completely innocent face. There was something in her eyes though, quiet and steady and not entirely neutral. Almost daring.
Kate's brain took a brief, unscheduled holiday. This position. The context of that phrase was not rooted in the mission anymore.
Kate nodded almost imperceptibly "Mhhmm, I like that positi—" the look on Yelena's face changed slightly, jaw a little more slack than before, and there was that look in her eyes again, Kate stopped herself, clearing her throat and turning back to face the table, wrangling back her imagination, "Yeah, that works fine!”
As Kate looked away Yelena let her lips curl slightly into a satisfied grin, and Ava barely hid her amusement, proud at seeing her friend almost back to her old self.
Peter was apparently oblivious to everything that was silently happening, “So like, be honest, do I need to get lifts?”
—
Kate got ready in a very specific order: hair, makeup, then clothes and shoes. She was self-aware enough to know she was clumsy, and the longer she had her dress on, the more likely she was to drop her mascara wand all over the front.
Her hair had taken slightly longer than she'd budgeted for, and it had taken an annoying number of attempts to get her eyeliner right, but other than that she was feeling relatively in control and surprisingly on time.
Right up until the moment she shimmied into her dress and attempted to zip it up herself. She could get her fingertips to the metal of the tab, but at this angle she couldn't get the leverage to move it even slightly.
She contorted herself into various unhelpful angles for about two minutes before flopping down onto the bed in a huff and accepting the fact that this was not happening alone.
She got up and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The dress sat flawlessly against her frame, black satin wrapped close to her body before falling cleanly to the floor. A dramatic slit cut high along her left thigh, exposing long bare skin.
The Louboutins she wore were a gamble at this height, given her clumsiness, but they paid off. Despite her earlier objections, it was one of her favourite dresses, she looked the part. Except for the ten inches of open zip running from the base of her spine that absolutely could not stay like that.
She assessed her options.
Peter was on the opposite end of the residential floor, and was probably already running late and panicking.
Cassie and Kamala were still working.
There was really only one option.
She picked up her phone.
I need your help, come over pls and thx x
She sent it before she could reconsider.
The reply came in under a minute.
Two minutes
Kate put the phone down, smoothed the front of the dress, and tried not to overthink it.
The knock came exactly two minutes later.
"You don't have to knock, come in!" Kate called.
The door opened behind her. She turned around.
And stopped.
Yelena stood in the doorway, hair slicked back, blue eyeliner tracing under her eyes, black fitted trousers, a white button-up shirt with the top three buttons undone, a black tie draped untied around her neck, and a black jacket over her arm.
She looked genuinely, objectively hot.
Kate completely forgot the purpose of the visit and just stood there, barely blinking, as if not blinking would somehow extend the moment.
Yelena, for her part, had gone very still in the doorway, hands in her pockets, jaw set.
She'd learned her lesson from this morning and had mentally prepared herself on the walk over. For the most part, on the surface, she was holding it together considerably better than she had earlier. Internally, she was shutting down.
No amount of mental preparation could have prepared her for the sight of Kate.
Her eyes moved over Kate once, just once, slow and controlled, and then settled on her face with the focused neutrality of someone exercising considerable discipline. Her mouth was watering in a way she was choosing not to examine. She swallowed, took a quiet breath, and stepped inside.
"Hi," Yelena said.
"Hi," Kate said.
A beat.
Yelena sauntered across the room and stopped in front of Kate, a small smile playing at her mouth. "What can I help you with, Miss Bishop?" The opportunity was too good to pass up.
Kate's mouth went completely dry. Snap out of it. She asked you a question. What was the question?
"I umm—" she started, and Yelena's eyebrow rose with quiet enjoyment. "Zip." It was the only word available.
She gestured vaguely over her shoulder, resigning herself to sign language since full sentences were clearly off the table.
"Turn around," Yelena said. Low, like a command.
Kate's body moved on instinct, turning to face the mirror before her brain had fully signed off on it.
In the mirror she could see Yelena's reflection, eyes down, posture controlled, focused. She stepped closer to Kate's back, assessing the problem. Definitely not just taking in the expanse of Kate's bare back, committing it to memory.
Then she reached up and moved Kate's hair to one side, her fingers grazing Kate's shoulder in a touch so light it barely registered, except that Kate felt it everywhere.
The dress was fitted enough that the zip required care.
Yelena took it slowly. One hand moved to find the fabric at the base of Kate's spine, the other finding the zip tab, drawing it upward in a steady, unhurried motion.
Kate was very aware of her hands, the warmth of the one resting just above the small of her back, and the other, which grazed her skin lightly as the zip rose, fingertips tracing the line of her spine. It was deliberate in a way that made concentration impossible.
She fixed her eyes on the mirror and found she couldn't look away from Yelena no matter how hard she tried.
The zip caught.
The resistance pushed Kate forward half a step. Yelena's hand moved to her hip on instinct, steadying her. Then Kate felt fingertips press into her hip, not hard, just enough, and pull her deliberately back to where she'd been. Her breath caught, and a small, almost imperceptible sound escaped before she could stop it.
Yelena's eyes found Kate's in the mirror and didn't leave them.
The zip drew upward the rest of the way, slow and deliberate.
It was done.
Neither of them moved.
The room was quiet and Kate's mind was anything but. She watched Yelena behind her in the mirror, jaw set but not tight, eyes fixed and steady and darker than usual, close enough that Kate could feel the shallow warmth of her breath against her bare shoulder.
This was the look. The one she'd been turning over all day, the one she couldn't name. And now it was here, close enough to be undeniable.
On instinct, Kate's head turned slowly, wanting to see it without the glass between them. Her body followed and Yelena's hands shifted with her, still resting at her hip.
Kate watched her through her lashes. Yelena's jaw had gone slightly slack, her eyes almost half-lidded, and for one fraction of a second they dropped to Kate's lips.
Then Yelena blinked.
Something shifted in her expression, the look broke, replaced by something that was almost surprise, like she'd just clocked where she was and what she was doing. She stepped back, her hand dropping to her side.
She looked at her wrist, sliding the white cuff back to check her watch. A deliberate reset.
When she spoke her voice was even, just slightly quieter than usual. "We leave in fifteen minutes. Everyone is meeting in the garage."
"Right," Kate said. "Yeah."
Yelena nodded once. Her body didn't move immediately.
Kate couldn't exist in this atmosphere for one more second. Her body was fighting with her brain, every instinct pulling toward the distance between them, so she did the only thing she knew how to do.
"Thank you, by the way. I genuinely could not have done that myself without dislocating a shoulder, which I absolutely did not want to do before a mission… or ever, really, because dislocating a shoulder is soooo unpleasant, and doing it before a mission would be worse than doing it during one, probably, although neither scenario is—" she took a breath, "—ideal."
A small smile crept onto Yelena's face.
"You are welcome, Kate Bishop," she said quietly.
She picked up her jacket, turned, and walked out.
Kate stood in the centre of her room, dress done, breath still shallow.
From the bed, Lucky huffed.
The sound broke whatever was left of the trance, and Kate turned to look at him. He stared back at her with the expression of a dog who had seen everything and had opinions.
"That wasn't a figment of my imagination, right?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. Obviously.
She turned to the dresser, put her earrings in, picked up her bag, and told herself very firmly that she was fine.
She was mostly fine.
—
The garage was cool and quiet at seven twenty, the overhead lights casting everything in a dim flat white that made people look like they were in a film.
Kate stepped out of the lift first, heels clicking against the concrete, and immediately heard a low whistle from somewhere near the cars.
"Damnnn." Ava was leaning against the side of the black SUV, arms crossed, uniform immaculate. She looked Kate up and down with exaggerated appreciation.
Peter stepped out of the elevator behind her, already straightening his jacket with both hands. "I know, I know… I ironed it myself." He did a small, entirely unprompted spin.
"So you decided against the lifts?" Ava jabbed.
Peter, clearly already in character for the evening, shot back without missing a beat. "Speaking of Lyft, you can wave goodbye to that five star rating."
Ava rolled her eyes and looked back at Kate.
Kate huffed out a laugh, amused at how their dynamic had grown over the past week, Peter was holding his own now.
The car was already running, exhaust barely visible in the cool air. She noticed Yelena was already in the driver's seat.
Peter appeared beside her, extending his arm with a slight bow. "M'lady."
"Oh, thank you, kind sir," Kate said, with a slight accent and a curtsy, taking his arm.
They walked toward the car, her heels steady on the concrete, and as she passed the bonnet she glanced through the windscreen. Yelena was looking straight ahead, hands on the wheel, the picture of composure.
Then Kate reached the rear door and caught a glimpse of the rear view mirror.
Yelena's eyes were in it.
They moved away the second Kate's found them, back to straight ahead, jaw set, focus apparently absolute.
Peter opened the back door and handed her in with practically comical ceremony, then the act broke and he slid in beside her. The squeak of leather echoed through the quiet of the expansive garage as he pushed Kate to the opposite side and pulled the door shut.
Ava, Yelena, and Kate all looked at him with blank expressions.
He turned to all of them, genuinely confused. "What?"
Ava shook her head and shifted straight into mission mode. "Comms," she said, pulling hers out and fitting the earpiece. "Everyone check in."
The familiar click of four earpieces settling into place.
"Parker, check," Peter said.
"Bishop, check," Kate said.
"Starr, check." Ava adjusted the fit, tapping the side once.
Then Yelena's voice, low and even, came through the earpiece directly.
"Belova. Check."
Kate stared at the back of the headrest in front of her for a moment.
She could get used to that. Yelena's voice, that register, directly in her ear all night.
No. Kate. Game time. Focus.
"All good," Ava confirmed, pulling up the venue on the dash display. "We drop you at the front entrance, escort you out, and then you head inside. Remember, upper class energy." She glanced back briefly. "Bishop, that shouldn't be a stretch."
"Born and raised," Kate said lightly, with a salute and a wink.
"Parker—"
"I know. No 'dude.'" He made air quotes around the word with complete sincerity.
"Good." Ava turned back to the display. "Once you're out, we take the car round to the side street, out of sight of the main entrance. From there we walk to the staff entrance on the east side and move into the service corridor." She looked at the map. "We'll be at the patch panel within eight minut—"
"Patty," Peter interrupted, solemnly.
A pause.
"What?" Ava said.
"The panel," Peter said. "We named it Patty."
Ava turned to look at him, squinting with equal parts confusion and judgement.
"Patty the patch panel," Kate confirmed, with a shrug.
Ava turned to face Yelena next to her. "We didn't agree to that name."
"They agreed. We agreed not to argue," Yelena said, eyes fixed forward.
"Why does it even need a name?"
"Kate wanted a name," Yelena said, with the exhaustion of someone who had already had this conversation and lost.
"Patty," Kate confirmed from the back, with a nod.
Ava exhaled slowly. "Fine. We'll be at….Patty within eight minutes of drop-off. Camera feed goes live shortly after."
"We'll have eyes on the office corridor and the main floor," Yelena added. "You do not go past the main hall without clearance from us." She glanced in the mirror. "Understood?"
"Understood," Kate and Peter said together.
The car pulled forward, tyres quiet on the garage floor, and moved up the ramp toward the street.
Kate looked out the window as the city opened up around them, the lights of evening New York sliding past the glass. Beside her, Peter smoothed his lapels one final time and seemed to decide he was done adjusting.
In the front, Yelena's eyes stayed on the road.
Kate tried to keep her eyes out of the rear view mirror. A few minutes in, her willpower gave out.
Yelena was watching the road.
Probably.
Shortly after, the car slowed to a stop at the base of the steps, and through the tinted window Kate could see the entrance to the Neurosphere building, glass and steel, lit from within, guests moving up the steps in a steady stream of black tie and decadent gowns.
She heard the driver's door open. A moment later, her door followed.
Yelena stood at the open door, one hand extended, the picture of professional discretion. Her expression was neutral, eyes forward, doing the job.
Kate took her hand.
It was a brief thing, the few seconds it took to step out of a low car in a floor-length dress.
Yelena's eyes came to hers the moment Kate straightened, and that look was there again. Just a flicker at the edges, there and gone before anyone watching would have caught it.
Kate caught it.
She held Yelena's gaze for precisely one second, their seconds seemed to stretch longer than normal seconds now, it was long enough to confirm she hadn't imagined it, but not long enough to do anything about it.
She looked toward the steps.
"Thank you," she said, in the polite, distant tone of someone thanking their driver.
Yelena released her hand and stepped back without a word.
Around the other side of the car, she could hear Peter being let out by Ava, she turned to see Peter attempt some sort of bow, probably, or a curtsy, it was hard to tell, but Ava had responded with the particular silence of someone choosing not to engage, exhaustion painted quietly on her face.
A moment later Peter appeared at Kate's side, arm extended, having apparently decided to save the performance for the steps.
Kate took it.
They walked up together, heels and dress shoes on stone, the low murmur of the event growing as they climbed. Behind them, she heard the car pull away.
The glass doors ahead reflected them back, Kate in red, Peter in black, looking every inch like they belonged here.
Ava's voice came through the earpiece, quiet and dry. "Show time!"
Kate didn't react. Neither did Peter. They pushed through the doors.
The Neurosphere headquarters at night was something else entirely.
The atrium had been opened up for the event, a vast, double-height space that felt like someone had taken a reception area and made it beautiful. Everything inside was clean and deliberate: white marble floors shot through with pale grey veining, tasteful lighting that complemented the extravagant guests effortlessly. Long tables ran along the periphery, bearing technology displays under glass: devices, schematics, prototypes, each one lit from beneath like artefacts in a museum.
At the end of the room sat a stage and podium, behind it a large floor-to-ceiling navy blue velvet curtain, clearly concealing something significant.
People circulated with champagne and the practised ease of individuals who attended events like this often enough to have stopped being impressed by them. You could almost smell the pissing contest being conducted between guests; pompous expressions and passive aggressive nods prevalent in every interaction she could see.
Kate had grown up in rooms like this, and it did not feel nostalgic. It felt suffocating, but she could do this, for the mission.
A waiter appeared at her elbow almost immediately, silver tray extended. She took a champagne flute without breaking stride, Peter doing the same, and let her eyes move across the room in what looked like casual appreciation and was actually a full tactical scan.
She noted the exits, the staff doors, the corridor leading away from the main atrium toward the private offices, visible at the far end of the room. She clocked the cameras in the corners, four of them, covering the main floor with minimal blind spots.
These rooms always greeted her the same way, not with anything so obvious as heads turning, more a subtle redistribution of attention. She felt it in the way a few conversations paused a half-beat too long, the way eyes moved over her and then away.
The men leered unapologetically, as they always had, even when she was a teenager. Disgusting. The women were more interesting, a few faces she half-recognised from the circuit, corporate New York's particular ecosystem of fundraisers and product launches and charity dinners. One woman across the room met her eyes, assessed, and then said something to the person beside her.
The Bishop name had always carried weight. Since her mother's arrest, it carried a heavier kind.
Kate took a sip of champagne.
The comms crackled.
"Camera's live," Yelena's voice came through, level and quiet. "We have eyes on you."
"Begin schmoozing at any time, guys," Ava added lightly.
Kate huffed quietly. Let's get this over with. She turned to Peter, pitching her voice low under the cover of the room's ambient noise. "Let's stay together for the first couple. Then fan out and cover more ground."
Peter exhaled with the quiet relief of someone who hadn't wanted to ask for that. "Yeah. Good call."
She clinked her glass lightly against his and turned to face the room.
"Right then," she said quietly. "Now or never."
The defence contractor and his wife were easy to spot.
Kate had seen them before, twice at Bishop Security fundraisers, once at a gala for a veterans charity her mother had sponsored.
He was mid-fifties, silver at the temples, the bearing of someone who had spent a long time in rooms where decisions were made and had stopped being subtle about flaunting it. His wife stood beside him with the composed watchfulness of someone who missed nothing and forgave very little.
Kate steered them toward the couple with the unhurried confidence of someone who had simply recognised a familiar face.
"Richard," She extended her hand with a smile that hit exactly the right note: warm, recognising, not overly familiar. "I thought that was you. Kate Bishop."
Richard Hale’s eyes swept over her, lingering a fraction too long before recognition settled in. Then came the smile. Warm at first glance, but edged with something that made Kate’s shoulders tighten instinctively.
“Kate. Of course.” His gaze dragged over her again, entirely unbothered by how obvious it was. “Don’t you look lovely.”
He took her hand and held it just a beat too long, thumb brushing faintly against her knuckles before he finally seemed to remember his wife was standing beside him.
“You know Sandra.”
"Of course." Kate turned to Sandra, who was already assessing her with quiet precision, something cooler underneath the smile. "It's good to see you both."
"And you." Sandra's smile was polished. "We didn't expect you to…that is, it's lovely to see you out."
Kate absorbed the implication without reacting. These types always wanted a reaction. "This is Peter," she said, smoothly redirecting. "He's been working with our tech division. We're looking at some of Neurosphere's developments."
Peter nodded, doing a reasonable impression of someone who worked in tech investment rather than someone who had webbed a pepper grinder at breakfast.
"Interesting crowd for a health tech showcase," Kate continued, keeping her tone light. "I wouldn't have expected to see you here, Richard. This feels a little outside your usual territory."
Richard bristled almost imperceptibly, exchanging a brief look with his wife. "Quite the contrary, my dear girl. Nothing is outside of my territory."
Defensive. Exactly where she wanted him, because now he had something to prove.
"Of course." Kate's expression stayed warm. "Growing up, I'd always hear from my mother that you were at the cutting edge of governmental advancements in New York… though that was a long time ago—" she paused just long enough for it to land, "—but I'm sure that still holds true."
"Ooooo, get him," Ava said through the comms, clearly entertained.
Kate's saccharine smile didn't slip.
Richard's chest puffed out. "That it does Miss Bishop, I'm close with some key investors in Neurosphere," he said, dropping his voice. "There have been conversations regarding potential applications beyond the clinical space." He nodded toward the stage.
Kate kept her expression at politely interested.
He leaned in slightly with a wink. "But you didn't hear that from me."
"Of course not." She smiled, playing into the closeness. She was about to probe further when Sandra turned to her with the smooth pivot of someone who had enough of this interaction already.
"How are you doing, Kate? Really." Her voice had softened in the way that wasn't kindness. "It must have been an incredibly difficult couple of years. With everything that happened with your mother."
The room continued around them, oblivious.
Kate felt Peter shift almost imperceptibly beside her.
"I'm doing well, thank you," Kate said. Her voice came out exactly as she needed it to, measured, grateful for the concern, closed. "It's been a lot to navigate, but—"
"She was always such a force," Sandra continued, with the momentum of someone who had decided to say the thing. "Before what happened, of course." A small pause. "Such a shame. I'm just glad you still have the confidence to attend these things while she cannot. The Bishop name in any room still stands regardless."
Peter was already lining up to intervene, but Kate got there first.
She placed her hand over her chest. "That's very kind of you to say," she said.
Peter stepped in with the casual ease, "Actually, Richard, I'd love to pick your brain about the defence procurement side… we've been looking at some crossover with our portfolio and I think your perspective would be invaluable." He turned slightly, drawing Richard's attention with him.
Richard took it gratefully, and the conversation shifted.
Kate stood for another thirty seconds, finishing the exchange with Sandra with the graceful efficiency she'd been trained in since childhood, and then they moved away.
When they were far enough into the crowd, Peter leaned slightly toward her. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She meant it, mostly. "It was gonna happen at some point, might as well get it out of the way."
He nodded, didn't push, and changed the subject. "Great first schmooze though."
"I told you. Rich people loooove to talk," Kate confirmed with a smile.
"Ok so we know they're probably developing products that could span into the security sector, but we don't know what," Ava chimed in.
"Even if we did, it's still not concrete enough to directly tie it to the weapons shipment," Yelena added.
Peter started tapping Kate's arm with increasing urgency. "Oh my god," he said, his voice low.
"What did we say about dude!" Ava's voice came through the earpiece immediately.
Peter apparently didn't hear her. He was already practically vibrating. "Five o'clock. Grey suit. That's Marcus Yuen."
Kate found him without turning her head fully. Mid-forties, slight build, holding a champagne flute with the careful grip of someone who wasn't entirely comfortable at parties. He was standing adjacent to one of the glass display tables, close enough to look like he belonged next to it without quite committing to a conversation about it.
"One of the lab techs?" Kate said.
"Not just a lab tech. He’s the lead on the neural interface project. The man’s tied to over fifteen patents in the last five years. That’s unheard of!" Peter’s voice had already taken on the reverent tone of someone discussing a personal hero. "We have to talk to him."
Kate looked at him. "We can go over there, but you need to dial…" she gestured vaguely at his entire existence, "…all of this down. Several notches."
Peter straightened immediately, smoothing his expression into something more professional. He took a measured breath. "Sorry. My bad. I’m notched down."
Kate didn’t entirely believe him, but he was still playing the part well enough that it probably wouldn’t matter.
They drifted towards Yuen as casually as Peter could manage, which still carried the faint energy of a golden retriever trying very hard to behave at a wedding.
Peter caught Yuen’s eye and extended a hand with the easy confidence of someone who did this all the time. He absolutely did not, but he gave a decent impression of it.
"Marcus Yuen? Peter, Bishop Securities. We’ve been keeping an eye on Neurosphere for a while. Exciting time to be in this space."
Yuen shook his hand with the automatic politeness of a man who had been introduced to three hundred people already that evening. "Thank you. Yes, it’s been a busy period."
"The wearables division especially," Peter continued smoothly. "The clinical trial outcomes have been impressive. Way ahead of most of what we’re seeing elsewhere in therapeutic tech."
From there, the conversation disappeared into increasingly incomprehensible tech jargon.
Peter and Yuen launched into an animated discussion about neural interfaces, signal mapping, and wearable integration systems, a surprising amount of which went straight over Kate’s head, which was honestly impressive. Tech was usually her thing too, but this was very specifically Peter territory.
So she let him take the lead.
Instead, she scanned the room again, searching for security blind spots, staff doors, anything that looked remotely useful. They still hadn’t found an access point, and sooner or later they were going to need to make strides in getting the local files.
After a few minutes, Kate sensed the shift before she fully registered it.
Yuen’s attitude seemed off. His eyes flicked briefly across the room, not socially, but analytically, like he was nervous.
"If you’ll excuse me," he said smoothly, "I should make my rounds. Pleasure meeting you both."
He shook Peter’s hand again, nodded politely to Kate, then disappeared back into the crowd with the purposeful stride of someone removing himself from a conversation as quickly as etiquette allowed.
Kate and Peter watched him go.
Then Peter turned to her, lowering his voice dramatically.
"Electrode array?" he repeated, scoffing as if this should register to Kate at all.
Kate blinked at him. "I’m gonna be honest, Pete, I completely zoned out. Give me the cliff notes version."
“I knew we should've attached some jingling keys to the Spider's jacket”, Yelena delivered dryly, she could almost hear the smile on both of their faces through the comms.
"Weeee were listening the whole time," Ava cut in over comms, "but it barely counted as English, so make the cliff notes English."
Peter exhaled sharply. "Okay, so we started with less invasive models. Wearables, EEG, ECoG, that kind of thing. I used your tactic."
Kate frowned. "My tactic?"
"Yeah. Pretending to know slightly less than I do so people explain things because they like sounding smart." He paused. "Except… he got stuff wrong." Peter looked genuinely disturbed by this.
"Like, I know I’m a nerd," he continued, "but how do I know more about neural interfaces than the guy supposedly leading the division?"
"Maybe he was being careful?" Kate suggested. "Not wanting to hand out trade secrets to random investors?"
"He got the tech wrong," Peter repeated, still sounding faintly horrified. "Like, once I moved past EEG and ECoG and started asking about the fully invasive systems they publicly claim to use, he completely blanked."
"You’re sure?" Ava asked.
Kate glanced across the ballroom. Yuen had already rejoined another cluster of guests, slipping effortlessly back into the performance of charming executive.
"Honestly?" Peter placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. "I’d bet my lucky soldering iron he didn’t work on any of it."
Kate’s jaw dropped, that soldering iron had emotional significance.
"Like somebody slapped his name on the patents and gave him just enough information to sound convincing at surface level. It explains the ungodly amount of patents he’s had…honestly I'm a little disappointed" He seemed genuinely deflated.
“Never greet your hero”, Yelena supplied.
Kate noticed the incorrect idiom, and tried to suppress her smile and get back onto the matter at hand. "So the real team is buried somewhere in those files."
"Surely," Peter said, already thinking three steps ahead again. "We need those files."
Kate reached for a fresh champagne flute from a passing tray and looked back out across the room, mind already turning over possibilities. “Ok, we should start looking for access points; let's split up so we can cover more ground.”
“Roger that, I’ll take the left side” Peter peeled off toward the tech display tables on the far side of the room, and Kate turned to face her half of it.
She took a slow circuit, champagne in hand, playing the part. Pausing at a display, tilting her head at a schematic, exchanging polite nods with passing guests. All the while her eyes were doing something entirely different, tracking baseboards, AV equipment, staff-facing fixtures, anything that looked like it might have a cable running behind it.
Nothing obvious. Nothing accessible without drawing attention.
She had positioned herself in the corner of the room, subtly checking behind a display case, when a hand closed around her elbow.
"There she is." The man was around her age, broad, with the easy entitlement of someone who had never had to work particularly hard for anything. He didn't introduce himself. He just looked her over and took his time about it. "You are a sight for sore eyes. Finally, someone to make this gala more fun." He delivered it with a smirk he clearly assumed was charming.
Kate kept the smile in place. "Can I help you?"
"You can start by letting me get you a drink." He hadn't let go of her elbow.
"I'm fine, thank you," she said, already shifting to leave.
"Come on" His grip tightened slightly. "You wear a dress like that and expect a red-blooded male to take no for an answer?" He gave a short laugh, like he'd said something reasonable. "I'm only human."
Kate's smile didn't move. At this point, it was more of a grimace. Over the comms she heard a clatter, and quickened footsteps.
"Incoming," Ava sighed through the earpiece.
Kate kept looking at the man in front of her. She was practically pressed against the wall at this point. In any normal scenario she'd have kneed him and broken every bone in his hand so he couldn't do this to anyone else. But she was on mission, and the last thing she needed was eyes on her.
His hand dropped from her elbow and moved toward the slit in her dress, toward the exposed skin of her thigh.
"Seriously?" he said, leaning closer. "One drink. Stop pretending you're the type of girl to say no—"
From behind him came a decisive collision, the neat, controlled bump of someone walking into his back, followed immediately by the clatter of a tray shifting, glasses catching themselves.
"I'm so sorry, sir. Please excuse me."
Kate recognised the voice before she'd fully processed that it was there.
Yelena stood just behind him, tray steady, uniform immaculate, expression perfectly mortified in the way of someone who had just committed an accidental social transgression. Her eyes told a different story. There was fire behind them.
The contact between his hand and Kate's thigh had not happened.
The man turned, irritation flashing across his face, the moment broken entirely. "Do you know who the f—"
"My sincerest apologies," Yelena cut him off, jaw tight, and fixed him with a look that was barely contained. She extended the tray toward him. "Champagne, sir?"
He stared at her for a second, then snatched a glass and turned away, already looking for someone else to prey on.
Yelena straightened, tray resettled, and looked at Kate with the polite neutrality of waitstaff acknowledging a guest. Her jaw worked.
"Miss Bishop."
"Thank you," Kate said earnestly.
Their eyes met for one second. The fire in Yelena's hadn't fully receded, but there was a softness there. She nodded once and turned to walk back toward the service corridor, unhurried, as though nothing of note had occurred.
Peter appeared at Kate's side a few seconds later, looking confusedly at Yelena's retreating form. "Did I miss something?"
A pause on the comms. Then Yelena's voice snapped through, all that contained rage finding somewhere to go. "Where the hell were you?"
"I went to the bathroom, I took my comms out so you didn't hear the—" Peter stopped himself. "You know what, doesn't matter." He looked at Kate for backup.
There was a crackle on the comms, followed by a beat of silence.
"Piss on your own time, Spider-Boy," Ava said.
Yelena didn't say another word.
Kate shook her head and changed the subject. "Find anything?"
Peter shook his. "Display tables are all sealed units, no open ports. Found one Ethernet socket near the east wall but it was blanked off."
"Same on my side," Kate said. She looked toward the far end of the atrium, where the corridor leading to the private offices sat in relative quiet, a single staff member disappearing through a door. "Whatever's running the event is locked down on the main floor. Which means anything accessible will be back there."
"The offices," Peter said.
"The offices," Kate confirmed.
She touched her earpiece. "We need to move toward the back corridor. Anything promising on the feed?"
"Tech display just inside the corridor entrance," Yelena said. "Adjacent to the bathrooms. Gives you a reason to be heading that way."
"Two offices on the ground floor with lights on," Ava added. "One looks like active use. Nobody in there right now."
Kate set her champagne flute on a passing tray.
"Right," she said. "I think I need to find the bathroom."
"Oh, I'll show you," Peter said earnestly, not picking up that Kate didn't need the bathroom.
They drifted toward the corridor with unhurried ease. They were about fifteen feet from the entrance when Kate heard her name.
"Kate?" The light, raspy, slightly accented voice came from about five feet behind her.
Kate turned. Her ex threaded her way through the crowd toward her, dark-haired, red-lipped, with the kind of blue eyes that looked almost artificially vivid against her tanned skin, and shorter than Kate remembered her from college.
She'd dressed up for the evening, but practically, she wore a fitted turtleneck dress in dark brown, smart enough for the room but clearly chosen by someone who also had to work in it.
Kate steeled herself. She'd known they were going to cross paths at some point, Maggie was her contact, the reason they were in the building in the first place, but that didn't make it less of a thing she'd have chosen to avoid.
"Mags!" she delivered with as genuine a smile as she could manage.
"Ooo who's Mags?" Ava asked over the comms, in the tone of someone watching reality TV.
Kate ignored the question. "I was wondering when we'd bump into you! This is Peter."
"Of course." Maggie looked at Peter with a sickly sweet smile that somehow communicated he was an inconvenience. "Your plus one."
"Hi, yeah. Thanks for getting us in," Peter said earnestly, clearly sensing something was off but unable to identify what. "So, uh. How do you know Kate?"
Kate wished he hadn't asked.
"We were a thing back in college." Maggie paused, letting her eyes move over Kate slowly and deliberately, as though they were the only two people in the room. "Really struggling to remember why we broke it off, to be honest."
Because you cheated on me with half the volleyball team after a month.
"Oh, you know," Kate said lightly. "We drifted into different circles. Different interests. I spent most of my time on archery." A beat. "You spent yours on the volleyball squad."
Although she was completely over it, she couldn't resist.
Maggie laughed briefly, looking at the floor. Then she looked back up, directly into Kate's eyes, with a smirk that hadn't changed since college. "That was a long time ago. Interests change."
Kate stood there with nothing useful to say.
Yelena's voice came through, sharp and clipped: "Sorry to break up the reunion, but we are on mission. Move."
Beside her, Peter had gone very still in the way of someone who had correctly identified that they were a third wheel and had no idea what to do about it. He took Yelena's prompt gratefully. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom…weak bladder!" He turned on his heel and headed toward the corridor.
"Yeah, I should also—" Kate started, already turning, when Maggie's hand shot out to stop her.
"Yanno, I got you an invite" Maggie was playing with her empty champagne glass. "I have to get back to work soon. Have a drink with me first?"
Through the earpiece, Peter's voice: "Maybe you could get some information out of her."
Yelena: "Megan is not needed. We focus on getting the files."
Ava, half-reluctantly: "She works the event. She might have some useful insight."
Ava and Peter were right. Maggie had been on the same cybersecurity course as Kate at college, maybe her job is adjacent to that, she could be useful. Kate exhaled quietly.
"Fine. I'll treat you to one." She let a small smile land. "I remember your tolerance."
Maggie gasped in mock offence, and they headed toward the bar.
"So," Maggie said, falling into step beside her. "What are you actually doing here? I was shocked to get your email. I didn't have you down as a Neurosphere investor."
"Our tech division is looking at some of their developments," Kate said, keeping it light. "The therapeutic tech space is interesting right now. What about you, how long have you been here?"
"Just over a year," Maggie said. "Cyber security. Pretty low down the food chain—" she gestured at her outfit, "—which is why I'm technically half working tonight. My office is just down the hall, so I've been coming back and forth to steal appetisers." She laughed softly.
Kate smiled. She remembered when she'd done the same thing on the Bishop Securities cyber team, her mother had insisted she start at the bottom like everyone else. "How bad’s the office?" she asked, keeping it casual.
"Ground floor," Maggie confirmed. "Basically a cupboard. But it has a window!"
She laughed. Kate laughed with her.
Ava's voice came through quietly. "Ground floor offices, we flagged one with a computer on earlier. Must be hers?"
Peter, somewhere in the building: "Wait, that's the best case scenario. If we can get on that machine we don't need an access point at all. We'd already be on the internal system."
"Parker," Ava said. "Second door on the right. Computer's on. Go."
A beat. Then Peter, barely audible: "Copy. Going."
Kate kept her attention on Maggie, and let the conversation drift for a few minutes. College, the city, how much had changed, until Peter's voice came back through the earpiece.
"Bad news. I'm in but it's password protected. Might take me a while to hack, any ideas?"
Kate looked briefly at one of the cameras and gave the smallest nod she could manage. She hoped it was enough to communicate: I've got this. Give me a minute.
The password structure. She remembered it clearly, Maggie had explained it in college and they'd laughed about how unsecure it was, but she'd always insisted at least she'd never forget it. Cat's name. First three letters of her street. Last five digits of her phone number.
The cat's name she already had. Salem. He was a kitten when they’d met.
She needed the street.
"At least it's not a long commute," Kate said, steering naturally. "You still near that old Italian place?"
"No, I moved last year. Still in Brooklyn though, only about a block from Vernon, actually. I'm on Cobbs Hill now."
Cob. Filed.
Now the number. This was going to require a more direct approach.
"Umm, Kate?" Peter again. "Do I risk starting a hack?"
Kate glanced at the camera once more with wide eyes, and whispered, "Wait"
Maggie had turned to the bartender to order. Kate used the moment.
She thought about a particular night at her place, where they’d worked up quite the appetite. She leaned slightly closer to Maggie as she turned back. "So," she said, keeping her voice low. "You can still get pasta at 2am?"
Through the earpiece came a sound she couldn't fully identify, a muffled voice, and footsteps pacing.
Maggie recognised the reference immediately. Her elbow came to rest on the bar, chin tilted up, looking at Kate through her lashes. "Yeah. We can."
This was genuinely uncomfortable. Flirting in front of Yelena… and Ava, and Peter, none of whom she could acknowledge, or explain to.
Not that she needed to explain herself to any of them.
"We can. Maybe I should get your number then?" Kate said, voice dropping just enough.
"Of course." Maggie smiled. "I know how much you liked that pasta." The insinuation was not lost on Kate.
Kate kept her expression warm and her feelings firmly off her face. She'd been over Maggie practically a week after they'd broken up and had no interest in actually taking her up on anything. She felt bad about leading her on, but she needed that number.
Maggie reached into her clutch, produced a pen, took Kate's hand, and wrote the number directly onto the back of it.
Her fingers lingered.
Kate practically ripped her hand away, grabbed her drink and downed it in one, already standing from the stool. "Actually… I was heading to the bathroom when we bumped into each other and I genuinely cannot hold it any longer. You get it. Catch you later!"
Maggie's mouth opened, then closed. Clearly not expecting that particular exit.
Kate was already moving.
She put enough crowd between them before she touched her earpiece. "I have the password."
"We were listening the whole time," Ava said, "and I don't remember her mentioning a password during your date?"
"That was not a—" Kate stopped herself. "Doesn't matter. She has a terrible memory so she built a password structure in college. I'd bet anything she still uses it."
"Thank gods, I don’t know how long breaking into this thing would take!" Peter exhaled.
Yelena was still silent, but she could practically hear the sound of her jaw creaking from the tension.
"Salem, capital S, a, l, e, m. Then C, o, b. Then—" she read the last five digits from the back of her hand.
A pause.
"Trying it now," Peter said.
Kate kept moving, smiling at a passing guest, looking like someone heading somewhere entirely unremarkable.
"Oh my god," Peter breathed. "We're in. She should not be working in security."
Kate exhaled.
"Running the script," he said. The quiet click of keys. "Timer's up, five minutes for the full download."
"Ava, where am I going?" Kate said, already turning.
"To Mandys for pasta?" Yelena's voice came through the mic, barely.
Ok, that's got to be intentional.
"Down the corridor, past the tech display," Ava said, talking over Yelena. "Second door on the right."
"Copy." Kate moved toward the corridor entrance, more hurried than she had been previously.
Kate was almost at the office door when Yelena's voice came through the earpiece.
"You have a stalker." A beat. "Mildred is heading your way."
Ava, in the service corridor, fixed her with a pointed look, Yelena for her part, kept her eyes on the feed.
"Ok that time you weren't even close" Kate said, already moving.
“I think she’s heading to her office, Kate you have to intercept!” Ava said.
“I can pull fire alarm instead?” Yelena delivered dryly, low enough that only Ava could hear next to her.
Kate acted quickly, she took a sharp left down an adjacent corridor, reversed her direction, and started walking backward, slow, confused, the picture of someone who had taken three wrong turns.
Maggie appeared at the corridor entrance about fifteen seconds later, spotted her, and her expression shifted from purposeful to amused.
"Are you lost?"
"Oh thank god," Kate said, relief flooding her voice with genuine conviction. "I cannot find the bathroom in this building. Everything looks the same."
Maggie laughed. "It's back through the main room, near the entrance—" she started, already moving to redirect her, but her body language was still angled toward the corridor. Toward the office.
"Back through the main room?" Kate let her face fall with theatrical dismay. "I literally just came from there. How is it possible that I walked past it?"
"Parker. How long?" Yelena asked now.
"Still downloading. I need two minutes." His voice low and tight.
Maggie was smiling at her, warm and a little knowing, she placed her hand on Kate's arm and span her around in the correct direction, both her hands were resting on Kates shoulders now.
“Keep walking that way until you see the bathrooms on your right” She rolled forward onto the balls of her feet tiptoeing slightly to talk directly into Kates ear, “You can’t miss ‘em”
Kate stood there for a moment, not know what to do, she had to think of something.
“I’ll meet you back out there” Maggie was a step away from the door now, moments away from entering.
Yelena on comms, sharp: "Pull the drive. Take what we have."
"No!" Kate said.
Maggie blinked.
Kate's brain caught up a half-second later. “I mean…no I don’t want to go back out there alone.” She stepped slightly closer, letting her hand trail lightly up Maggie's arm.
Maggie looked at the hand on her arm with a knowing smile, “I have to work, I won’t be long” she said, raspy and low.
"Come on. You were never a stickler for the rules." There was practically no space between them now, her fingertips stroking the bare skin of her upper arm.
Maggie's expression shifted, her eyes dropped to Kate's lips. "Still so impatient," she drawled, her hand reached for the door handle.
Peter heard the click of the door handle, "Kate, ten seconds!" Peter breathed.
The next part almost happened in slow motion, Maggie went to turn her head to open the door fully, and step into the room. Kate panicked.
Kate closed the distance and Maggie released a sharp inhale of surprise before she sank into the kiss, one hand coming up to Kate's arm, the other still loosely resting on the door which was, fortunately, no longer being pushed open.
Over Maggie's shoulder, through the gap in the door, Kate could see Peter at the terminal, wide-eyed, the hard drive still in the machine, he mouthed “Five seconds”.
Maggie went to lean back, so Kate deepened the kiss.
Peter's eyes went wider.
A few seconds passed. Then Maggie pushed Kate back, flushed, lips curved into something between a smile and a question. She looked at Kate through lidded eyes, "You still always get what you want, huh," she said, soft and faintly amused.
She turned toward the office.
Behind her, Kate watched Peter yank the drive from the machine, pocket it, and shoot a web to the ceiling in one fluid motion, pulling himself up and out of sight in the space of about a second.
Kate stepped through the doorway after Maggie, keeping her attention on her for a moment to give Peter a chance to crawl out of the door.
Maggie took a small step toward her. "I really do have to work."
"Of course, yes, obviously… I'm so sorry," Kate was apologising for more than just keeping her from her work. She took a step backwards. Then another. "Bye."
She turned and walked into the corridor at a pace that was brisk without technically being a sprint.
Pete dropped from the ceiling and fell into step beside her.
"That," Peter was walking backwards with a little more energy in his step, pointing towards the office, "was not in any of the backup plans." he delivered with a smile.
Kate pinched between her eyebrows "Please just tell me you got the full download."
He pulled the drive from his pocket and held it up between two fingers. "Fully downloaded."
Kate exhaled for what felt like the first time in five minutes.
"Nice moves, Bishop," Ava said through the comms.
She could practically hear the shit-eating grin on her face. “I had to buy time!” Kate retorted.
Kate and Peter drifted back into the atrium, hearing the sound of someone speaking over the mic.
Guests had gravitated toward the stage in the loose, half-attentive way of people who had been at a drinks event long enough to welcome something to look at. A man in his fifties stood at the podium, silver-haired, polished, with the particular confidence of someone who had rehearsed this moment several hundred times.
Guests had gravitated toward the stage at the end of the room, champagne glasses in hand; the energy of the room suggested he'd been talking for a while.
"—and what we're unveiling tonight," he was saying, "represents not just a breakthrough in therapeutic technology, but a fundamental reimagining of what it means to care for the people who care for us."
Kate and Peter exchanged a glance and turned to face the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen." He paused, letting the room settle. "Neurosphere is proud to present the next chapter."
He nodded toward the wings.
The navy velvet curtain behind the podium drew back slowly, revealing a display case lit from beneath, and inside it, mounted on a clean white stand, was the device.
The room responded with the restrained appreciation of people who had been trained since birth not to look impressed.
"The NovaMind device," the man continued, his voice warm with pride, "has been seven years in development. And I want to be clear with you tonight, we are not finished. We are in active trials. But what those trials are showing us—" he paused, "—is extraordinary."
He let that breathe.
"As many of you in this room know better than most, the people who keep this country safe do so at enormous personal cost. They see things no person should have to see. They carry what they've witnessed long after the work is done." He gestured toward the display case. "Post-traumatic stress. Addiction. The conditions that follow our service members and security professionals home, that sit at the dinner table, that end careers and marriages and, too often, lives."
The room had gone properly quiet now.
"NovaMind works with the brain's existing architecture, through direct neural interface technology, to address the pathways responsible for trauma response, addictive behaviour, and emotional dysregulation. While wearing the device, our trial participants report that symptoms are effectively non-existent." He held up a hand. "We are not claiming a cure tonight. We are sharing results that, frankly, we are still working to fully understand. What we can tell you is that the data is unlike anything we have seen in this field."
Kate looked at Peter. He was watching the stage with the careful expression of someone cataloguing information.
"We are a proud American company," the man continued, "and we believe deeply that the people who protect this nation deserve the same level of care and investment that this nation asks of them. NovaMind is our answer to that belief."
He stepped back from the podium and extended a hand toward the side of the stage.
"I'd like to introduce someone who has been part of our trial programme. His name is David. He served two tours, came home, and spent three years losing everything that service had cost him. I'll let him speak for himself."
A man in his early forties walked onto the stage, broad-shouldered, the particular stillness of someone who had learned to carry themselves carefully. Behind his right ear, almost invisible against his skin, was the device.
The room was very quiet.
"I'm not much of a public speaker," David said, into the microphone, with the slight self-consciousness of someone who meant it. "But they asked me to come and say something, so." He paused. "I came back from my second tour in pretty bad shape. I don't need to go into details; a lot of you in this room probably know someone who's been in a similar place, or you've been there yourself." A beat. "Three years ago I couldn't hold down a job. My marriage was struggling. I couldn't sleep. I relied on alcohol and substances to carry me through the day" He looked at the device in the display case. "I've been in the trial for 3 months. I no longer turn to substances. I can sleep through the night, my beautiful wife doesn’t have to suffer through my night terrors anymore." He smiled towards a tall blonde woman at the edge of the stage. “It gave me my life back.”
The applause that followed was different from what had come before. Warmer. More genuine.
Kate clapped because not clapping would have stood out. Beside her, Peter did the same.
The silver-haired man returned to the podium. "Thank you, David." He let the moment settle, then straightened. "We are here tonight because the work is not finished. Additional trials cost money. Development costs money. And we believe, fundamentally, that this technology is too important to move slowly." He looked out across the room. "The investors in this room who commit tonight will have first access to the programme, first licensing, first partnership opportunities, first involvement in a technology that we believe will define the next decade of human performance and mental health." He raised his glass. "Help us finish what we started. The people who protect this country deserve nothing less."
The room applauded again, fuller this time. Voices echoed throughout the atrium, in awe.
Kate didn't move immediately. She was looking at the device in the display case. It sounded extraordinary. A device that could give a veteran back his sleep. That could reach into the brain and quiet the noise that wouldn't stop. That should have been the most straightforwardly good thing she'd heard all evening.
So why did her chest feel like it was full of something cold?
"We need to see what's on that drive," she said quietly, low enough to be nothing in the ambient noise.
In the service corridor, Yelena's voice came back immediately, level and controlled, though something underneath it wasn't quite either of those things.
"Car will be out front in five."
They began making their way leisurely to the front of the building.
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In Our Glass Tower - Ch. 6 - Stupid Things, like Caring
Pairing: Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop
A/N: Someeeeonnne is making some baby steps in the right direction finally!👀 Not all at once, of course; this is a slow burn after all🤷♀️
This chapter was going to be the mission, but I felt there needed to be a bit of character development before a mission-heavy chapter.
As always, let me know what you guys think! 💚💜
Word Count: 7,890
Chapter 6 begins below the cut. You can also find the fic on AO3
Chapter 6 - Stupid Things, like Caring
Kate had every intention of sleeping.
She stared at the ceiling and tried very hard not to think, but this was, historically, not something she was good at.
She had returned to her room shortly after the panic attack, not being able to exist in the thick air that lingered in the room, as Yelena returned unceremoniously to the library nook like nothing had happened.
She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and let out a slow breath.
It was just a panic attack. She'd had them before. They weren't a big deal, and more to the point, they weren't even caused by anything remotely interesting.
She'd faced down actual threats all the time, things with guns and high stakes, and her nervous system had stayed perfectly cooperative through all of it. It never happened on missions. Never in the field, never under pressure, never when the situation actually called for a reasonable amount of panic.
It was always this instead. The stuff she couldn't fix, couldn't aim at, couldn't resolve with the right trick arrow.
Her brain moved too fast for its own good, it always has, it would start running and then keep running, one thought tripping into the next, and the faster it went the louder it got until the noise got too loud and her body made the executive decision to shut the whole operation down.
It was just first week jitters. New team, new expectations. Anyone would be overwhelmed.
The fact it had hit right when she was thinking about Yelena didn’t mean anything. That was just… timing, bad timing.
She was thankful that nobody had seen it except Yelena, but she couldn’t decide if that was the best, or worst case scenario; it depended on which way she looked at it.
Best because the alternative was Peter, who would’ve been kind about it in a way that would have given it much more significance.
Worst, because Yelena seeing it meant Yelena saw her vulnerable, and Yelena knowing anything vulnerable about her felt premature, and disarming.
She probably thinks I’m so weak now.
But, she kept coming back to the hand on her knee.
It had been light. Barely there, really. Just a point of contact, warm and grounding, saying I'm here without either of them having to use words. No fuss, no questions, no performance of concern. Just Yelena, crouching beside her, staying.
That was the part she couldn't get past. Not just that Yelena had noticed, though that alone was more than she'd expected, but that she'd known exactly what to do with what she noticed. Kate hadn't asked for anything. Hadn't said anything. And somehow that hadn't mattered.
She'd been so deep inside her own head that it had taken a moment to register, and then it had registered all at once. And that had been the thing that pulled her back. Not the carpet she'd been staring at. Not the sounds of the room she'd been cataloguing. Not any of the tricks she'd spent years teaching herself for exactly this kind of moment.
Just Yelena’s hand.
She shook her head against the pillow.
Stop it, Kate.
She reached for her phone, essentially changing the subject on herself.
She opened the Avengers dashboard app out of habit, intending to double-check tomorrow's timetable, and found it exactly where she'd left it.
09:00 - Pre-Mission Brief. 19:00 - Departure.
She was about to close the app when she noticed an icon in the top right corner. A speech bubble, with 25 notifications.
A group chat opened, called “The Newb Avengers” at the top with everyone in the team in it, she read through the messages, only having been added to it that night.
Cassie: we made it into the group chat guys😎
Ava: don’t make it weird, you’ll be removed
Kamala: omg yaayyy! Hi guys 🥰xxxxx
Peter: newb avengers??🤣
Cassie: who named it newb avengers?? 🙄
Kamala: I kinda like it! 💁🏼♀️
Bob: I’m sure it’s meant like bc you’re new to the team!
Yelena: incorrect
Ava: we meant it like they’re baby avengers, hope this helps 👍🏻
Kate chuckled along reading the chat but decided she wouldn’t get involved tonight, she’d received a message from Pete asking if she’d gone to bed, since she left the living room without saying a word.
She replied shortly explaining that she wanted to get an early night and thought about closing her phone, but her fingers had other plans.
Almost absentmindedly, she clicked on Yelena's name, opening a private chat.
She stared at it for a moment longer than she needed to, thumb hovering over the keyboard in a way that felt uncomfortably familiar. The cursor blinked at her, patient and unhelpful, which was becoming a theme.
She finally typed.
Heyyyy I wanted to say about earlier, when you came over and sat with me when I was losing a fight with my own nervous system, you really didn't have to do that, and I know things between us are weird right now so I just wanted to say thank you. it actually helped a lot
She read it back. Too long. Too earnest. Way too much.
Deleted it.
Thank you for earlier. genuinely.
Too short. Too loaded. That one was somehow worse.
She put the phone face down on the mattress and stared at the ceiling for thirty seconds, having a very brief and very serious conversation with herself about not making it weird.
Then she picked it up again.
Hey. this is really awkward but that's my speciality clearly, you didn't have to come over earlier and you did, so thank you. that's all 👍
She sent it before she could read it back. Then she put the phone face down, pulled the duvet up to her chin, and lay very still.
Why did she add an emoji. Why did she add a thumbs up emoji specifically. Of all the emojis available to her, of all the ways she could have ended that sentence, she had chosen the one that made her sound like she was confirming a dentist appointment.
She looked at Lucky, who was watching her from his spot on the bed with the patient expression of a dog who had seen her do worse.
"What did I do?" she said.
He huffed. It sounded almost sympathetic.
Fifteen painful minutes passed. She did not check the phone, she was exercising restraint.
She was a composed, mature adult who had sent a perfectly reasonable message and was comfortable sitting with the uncertainty of not knowing how it had landed.
The phone buzzed.
She grabbed it immediately.
She waited a full minute before opening it, out of principle, and after the longest sixty seconds of her life:
Yelena: You are welcome.
Kate stared at it. Three words. Perfectly legible, correctly punctuated, and somehow still completely unreadable... which, she was beginning to understand, was Yelena's speciality. Then another buzz brought her out of her spiralling.
Yelena: Are you feeling better?
Taken aback by the earnestness of the message, Kate typed back before she could stop herself.
Kate: Yeah totally! I’m totally fine, just a blip!
Kate: Also if we could pretend it never happened, that would be great 👍🏻
Yelena: Pretend what happened?
Kate: when I had a panic attack in the middle of the living room
Kate: you totally were doing a bit weren't you…
Yelena: Yes
Kate: You're a very blunt texter yanno
Yelena: As opposed to in real life when I'm very bubbly?
Kate: Exactly! Your sunshine and rainbows personality is being completely lost in text 😉
Yelena: Goodnight, Kate Bishop 😉
Kate read it twice with a smile plastered on her face and set the phone down on the nightstand.
She was slightly deflated that the conversation ended so quickly, but overall happy they had gotten the awkwardness out of the way by addressing the panic attack.
She stared at the ceiling and reflected on where she and Yelena stood.
They kept reaching some version of okay, and then something would tip it sideways again, and they'd have to start the whole negotiation over from scratch.
Civil colleagues, she'd said. Like a rule she could follow if she just repeated it enough times.
She huffed softly at the ceiling.
A beat, and then Lucky huffed too, slow and heavy, like he'd heard her and had thoughts on the matter.
Kate looked at him. He didn't look back, just resettled his chin on her leg with a sigh that somehow managed to feel pointed.
The smile that crossed her face was small and involuntary.
She reached over and scratched behind his ears, turned the lamp off, and let the dark settle around her.
—
Yelena woke with a sharp inhale, breath ragged at the edges, a ghost of a sound dying on her lips before she was fully conscious enough to be embarrassed by it.
For a moment, she just lay there, heart running faster than it had any reason to at 6:05 in the morning, staring at the ceiling with the particular disorientation of someone dragged reluctantly back to reality.
The room was dark and quiet, apart from her own breath. She blinked a few times, jaw slack, slowly regaining full consciousness.
She was used to waking up suddenly with ragged breath. Nightmares had been a fixture for long enough, the cold sweat, the hammering pulse, the few disorienting seconds of not knowing what was real, and finally the relief of finding herself nowhere near where the nightmare had put her. She knew the shape of that feeling intimately.
But this wasn't that.
Her skin was warm. Too warm. Her pulse was fast, but it wasn't fear. She became aware of her legs wound tight in the sheets, and a coiled warmth sitting low in her stomach that had absolutely no business being there at all.
Even with no distinct memory of the dream, every instinct was pulling her back toward it. To close her eyes. To find her way back to wherever she'd been and finish what was unfinished.
She lay very still while her brain caught up with her body and arrived at a conclusion she immediately didn't want to have.
Blue eyes.
She stopped that thought before it finished, untangled her legs from the sheets and got up.
She needed a shower. A cold one. She was across the room and into the bathroom before she'd fully registered moving, turning the tap to cold without ceremony and stepping under it before anything in her could change her mind.
The water hit her like a correction.
She stood under it, hands flat against the tile, and let it work. Her breathing slowed. Her pulse dropped. The warmth that had followed her out of sleep began, finally, to recede.
Good.
She closed her eyes.
That was a mistake.
Because the moment she did, something in her brain decided that the cold water and the quiet absence of anything else to focus on was an excellent opportunity to start filling in details. Not all of them. Just enough.
Hands trailing down her stomach, nails leaving a delicious burn in their wake.
Pale shoulders and the shift of back muscles draped in a sheen of sweat, brunette hair cascading in a pool over her lower stomach.
Warm breath caressing the delicate skin at the apex of her thighs. Blue eyes looking up at her, half-lidded, and a low familiar voice, just slightly undone, pleading her name.
"Yelena."
Kate.
Her eyes snapped open.
Despite the cold water clinging to her skin, she was burning.
She found herself biting her lip hard enough to almost draw blood, her fingers hovering over where she wanted them most, shaking slightly as she fought the urge to plunge them between her legs.
At the realisation of what she was close to doing, her other hand shot out and wrenched the tap colder, and she forced her head completely under the stream.
She pressed her forehead against the tile and focused on the cold.
She tried to be logical about it. Dreams didn't mean anything. They were neurological noise, just the brain filing things away in whatever order it chose, making connections that had nothing to do with anything. Just nonsensical noise.
The fact that the noise had taken a very specific shape. A shape with rippling back muscles and blue eyes and a voice she was still trying not to hear on a loop.
That meant nothing.
Right?
She turned the water off.
She stood in the middle of the bathroom, dripping, and looked at her reflection.
Are you broken? She asked herself, silently, because it genuinely felt like a reasonable question.
After the subjugation was over, after the Red Room, she had spent years mastering complete control of herself. Her reactions, her responses, her feelings… all of it managed, all of it filed, all of it kept in its correct place.
Then Kate Bishop had arrived with her clumsy golden retriever charm and her inability to stay quiet for longer than forty-five seconds, and apparently that was all it took to dismantle years of hard-won discipline.
This was frankly embarrassing.
The mantra of this dream meant nothing, providing little to no solace. Which was the problem with relying on her own thoughts, they were the ones that had gotten her into this predicament in the first place. She couldn't trust them to get her out of it.
She needed someone to tell her this didn't mean anything.
She needed someone who would be honest with her, no matter what the conclusion was.
Annoyingly, she needed Ava.
She picked up her phone.
Yelena: Are you awake?
Ava: As always
Yelena: Run?
Ava: Give me ten minutes
Yelena put the phone down, finished getting dressed, and told herself she was going to approach this the way she approached everything, calmly, methodically, without emotion.
She simply had a question of a neurological nature. Dreams and their significance, or lack thereof.
It was practically academic, of course.
—
They were around twenty minutes into their run when Yelena finally spoke. Ava had known she wanted to; she'd been waiting, keeping the silence comfortable, not pushing.
"When you dream," Yelena said, eyes forward, "do they mean anything?"
"Damn, finally." Ava exhaled with relief. "Don't get me wrong, silent runs are not unusual for you, but I could practically smell the fumes from how hard your brain was working."
Yelena shot her an incredulous look, though a smile poked through despite herself. She was quietly grateful that Ava was keeping it light.
"It depends on the dream," Ava said. "Like, when I had that dream about being a competitive dog groomer, but all the dogs were the size of horses, had human heads, and kept screaming at me for a short back and sides—" She huffed through a few strides, the sentence costing her some breath. "I don't think that one meant anything."
Yelena was quiet for a moment, processing this with the particular contemplative expression she reserved for things that genuinely required consideration.
"So… they don't mean anything?" She flicked her eyes toward Ava for the first time in twenty minutes.
"Nonsensical ones don't," Ava said, with a look that suggested she already knew this was going somewhere more specific. "Is this curiosity, or did you have a particularly weird dream?"
"Weird dream."
"If you were also a competitive dog groomer, I don't think our friendship will survive the competition. It's my passion, Yelena. I’ll show no mercy," She delivered this with complete seriousness.
"Do not worry, I was not competitively grooming dogs; lucky for you, because I would win.”
She overdramatically gasped, and they laughed. Ava let the lightness sit for a moment before bringing it back, gently.
"So what was it?"
Yelena huffed. "A dream."
"What kind of dream?" Ava glanced over, looking for clues.
"I do not want to say." The jaw tension was back.
"Oh, come on, we're adults." A smirk crept onto Ava’s face, and then slightly too loudly. "It was a sex dream, wasn’t it?"
Yelena's head snapped toward her, fire in her eyes.
Ava’s smirk widened into a full-blown smile, she kept her eyes fixed on Yelena hoping that if she stayed quiet long enough, Yelena would answer, and sure enough, after a few more strides, Yelena answered.
Yelena let out a half-laugh, half-exhale of pure disgust. "Please, no. That would classify as nightmare." She shook her head firmly, as if physically dispelling the image.
They reached the park, empty at this hour, and slowed, checking their wrists, catching their breath in the early morning quiet.
"So you're asking if the sex dream means anything?"
Yelena didn't answer out loud. She just nodded. Once, reluctantly.
Ava looked at her shoes for a moment, then looked up, shielding her eyes from the low morning sun. "You wanna know what I actually think?"
"Yes", Yelena said, with a small shrug, hands on her hips, "This is why I am asking, you do not coat with sugar."
"You need to get laid." Ava delivered flatly.
Yelena's leg swept out with precision and zero warning, but Ava recovered fast, hands up, laughing slightly now.
"Okay, okay—" She composed herself, letting the smile settle into something more genuine. "Dreams don't always mean something. But on this occasion, more than likely… It's your brain being more honest than you've been letting yourself be. If you're repressing shit, dreams are where it comes to the surface."
Yelena exhaled slowly, looked up at the sky, and let out a long sigh. "No, I do not like your answer. Give me a different one."
"Sorry, no can do." Ava didn't sound sorry. "But at least my answer has an action point?"
Yelena raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
The smirk crept back slowly. "Get laid."
Yelena lunged, but Ava had already phased behind her and out of harm's way, laughing like a child, and then took off into a sprint, putting distance between them before Yelena could close it.
They ran the rest of the way home like that, Ava throwing verbal jabs over her shoulder and Yelena throwing real ones, both of them laughing more than either would have admitted to.
They slowed as they reached the front doors, breath coming back to them in the quiet morning air.
Ava put a hand on Yelena's arm before she could reach for the handle, and she stopped. She recognised that touch. Ava only did it when she meant something.
"Right, I'm gonna be serious for a second." Ava kept her voice even. "And if I'm out of line, feel free to attempt to rock my shit."
She paused, choosing her words carefully; she knew exactly how quickly this particular person could close a door.
"You've got to stop being a control freak with yourself."
Yelena tilted her head slightly, but didn't shut it down. Which was, from her, essentially permission to continue.
"I think I know what's going on." She held her gaze, steady, not saying the name she didn't need to say. "And you've been clearly tying yourself in knots for the past week and a half… It's exhausting to watch, so I can only imagine how exhausting it feels."
Yelena's jaw flexed.
"You're fighting something, and you're not yourself." Ava's voice softened just slightly. "And not to be sappy about it, but I miss my best friend."
The morning sat quietly around them. A cab moved through the intersection. A shutter rolled up somewhere down the block.
"I'm not telling you to do anything," Ava said. "I'm just telling you that trying to control your way out of something that isn't controllable is going to wear you down eventually. And you deserve better than that."
A long beat passed. Yelena looked at the door handle, processing quietly. Not shutting down. Just thinking.
"Stop being a pussy, basically," Ava said, attempting to lighten the tone.
Yelena breathed out a brief laugh. Then she went quiet again, and when she spoke it was almost under her breath.
"She scares me."
Ava blinked. "Ok, I gotta make sure—”, shaking her head in confusion at someone scaring Yelena. ”Bishop!?"
Yelena met her with a look that was entirely sincere.
Ava, genuinely surprised but wanting to give her room, asked carefully. "What's scary?"
"How easy it is to—" Yelena cut herself off and tried again. "She is basically a stranger." She shook her head, jaw set, the words coming out with a frustration directed entirely inward. "But I put her on a wire. I went to her apartment to warn her out of the way. I sent a picture that could have compromised my mission. I pulled my punches." A beat. "I kept that burner phone"
She was pacing now, short and contained, the way she moved when something had too much energy and nowhere to go.
"She makes me do—" She stopped herself before the word. "Stupid things."
Her chest was rising and falling unevenly, breath coming in short huffs, and that particular downward set of her mouth was present on her face.
Ava watched her for a moment. "Is the scary part trying to answer why you did those things?"
Yelena didn't want to answer that. Not out loud, not even in her own head, because the answer was sitting right there, and it was too much.
"Stupid things lead to someone getting hurt," she said instead, delivering it like a fact, jaw set and posture stiff.
Stupid things like caring.
She knew what caring cost. The Red Room had shown her early that attachment was a liability, something to be found and used against you. People who knew what you loved had power over you. Caring openly was handing someone a map to everything that could hurt you.
And Natasha. The pain she felt when she lost her only reinforced this fact: Caring always leads to hurting.
It was vulnerable, it was stupid.
"You're already hurting."
The words landed quietly. And they stung, because Ava was right, and Yelena knew she was right, and knowing it didn't make it easier to sit with.
Every time she had forced distance between herself and Kate she had felt it, the warmth being ripped from her chest, the confusion on Kate's face after their arguments, open and unguarded in the way Kate always was. That had hurt.
Which confirmed something worse.
She was hurting Kate too.
The Civil Colleague framework is crumbling around her, with no other framework to take its place; all she knows is that the distance isn't working. But she doesn't know what working would even look like.
"I don't know how to do this," she said. The confusion on her face was genuine, unguarded in a way she rarely let herself be. It was the most honest thing she'd said out loud in longer than she could remember.
Ava was quiet for a moment. Then, simply: "You don't have to have everything figured out. Ava said. "Just stop fighting it at a hundred per cent. You don't have to let her all the way in, just stop slamming the door quite so hard. Stop fighting this so hard."
Yelena looked at the door.
"That is not as easy as you make it sound," she said.
"I know," Ava said. "But you've been doing the hard thing this whole time, fighting everything, and it's not working." She tilted her head slightly. "Maybe try the other thing."
Yelena said nothing. But she didn't argue, which from her was as close to agreement as Ava was likely to get.
Ava pulled the door open. "Like I said, stop being a pussy"
A small comedic huff exhaled past Yelenas' lips as she shook her head. "I hate that this was slightly helpful", she said finally.
"What can I say?" Ava said, with a cocky shrug. "I’m just so easy to open up to, look at you. Heart on your sleeve!" She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead with theatrical drama.
Yelena walked through the open door and shot her a pointed look. "Do not push it."
Ava followed, a quiet laugh slipping out.
She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to.
—
As the elevator dinged onto their residential floor, the smell hit them first.
Burnt eggs and something that might have been toast in a previous life, carried on a faint haze of smoke that had settled across the living area like a very domestic disaster.
Bob appeared beside them almost immediately, wide-eyed and quietly desperate. "He's making breakfast!” his voice then dropped to a whisper, “I can’t do this alone! Help me!?”
Kamala and Cassie were sitting on the stools at the kitchen island, Kamala trying to hide the fear on her face looking at the burnt eggs smiling and nodding, affirming Alexei’s questionable technique.
And Cassie span around in the chair, clearly enjoying the display, “I heard this is something he does every mission day? What a treat!” through gritted teeth.
Yelena groaned loudly at the ceiling with the petulance of a child who’s embarrassed by their Dad, and stomped towards him.
Alexei stood at the stove with the focused energy of a man who believed completely in what he was doing, whisking a pan of eggs that had long since made peace with the bottom of the pan and were not coming back from it. He was humming something vaguely patriotic under his breath.
“Daddy you can not cook, please, choose different mission day ritual.” She attempted to grab the pan handle, but he pulled it up and away out of her reach.
"Lenaaaa, it is tradition." He whisked with renewed conviction. “I get better every time!”
He doesn’t get better every time; they just get better at making the actual breakfast around him.
After sitting through the first of his mission day breakfasts, they forced down anything they could, hid any food that they couldn't, and vowed that next time they would not let it get to that point.
So the tradition became that Alexei would “cook”, and the rest of the team would work around him in silence, saving different aspects of the meal.
Turning down burners he'd left too high, starting fresh batches to swap out the casualties, and adding seasoning to bland foods.
Nobody had ever announced what they were doing, but they all looked at each other with hidden triumphant smiles every time they managed to salvage a meal; that was the actual tradition, and Yelena would be lying if she said she didn’t love it.
It felt like a real family.
“Blyat, wait!” Alexei stopped abruptly, throwing his hands into the air, a loud clank of the pan dropping onto the kitchen island echoed “The Hawk and the Spider! Integral to today's mission, they must enjoy the breakfast!”
Taking this as a brief win, Yelena, Bob and Ava shared a relieved sigh.
“Ok dibs on Spider-boys wake up call, he seems like he would be a better morning person.” Ava proclaimed and shot a smug smile Yelena’s way before exiting down the hallway towards Pete’s room.
Yelena rolled her eyes, knowing what she was doing, but all she had to do was tell Kate to come for breakfast; she could do that without it being weird.
Surely.
—
Kate woke up to her alarm, groggy as always, pulling the covers over her face in retaliation, like under there existed some sort of time vortex where she could steal another hour in the warm dark with Lucky cuddled against her. Unfortunately, she and Pete hadn't gotten around to inventing that…yet.
Lucky stretched beside her, all four paws extending outward with the full commitment of a dog who had absolutely no concept of personal space, and jabbed her squarely in the stomach.
"Owww, dude." Her voice came out gravelly with morning husk.
He blinked at her sleepily, entirely unrepentant.
She ripped the covers from her face and reached for her phone.
The group chat had twenty-something notifications, loose plans being thrown around for tomorrow night, some kind of celebratory drink situation pending their mission success, which she appreciated in principle and would appreciate considerably more after today was done.
There was also a direct message from Pete asking if she wanted him to take Lucky on a walk so she could have a lie-in; he probably sensed something had happened last night.
She replied, saying maybe they could go for a run together instead, set the phone down, and lay there for one more moment staring at the ceiling.
Today was the day. Her first official Avengers mission.
She'd expected to wake up nervous. Instead, she felt something closer to the clean, focused hum of someone who had something to prove and was ready to do so. Yelena had made sure they had a whole alphabet of backup plans, and there was another briefing this morning for a final run-through.
All should go according to plan, she just needs to focus on the mission, and not think about certain other things that have been running through her mind.
Certain short, blonde things.
She forced herself to roll out of bed, foregoing a shower, she would have one when she got back.
She pulled on old grey sweats and a black sports bra, and was standing in front of the full-length mirror by the bed, hair gathered in her hands and fingers still working the tie into place, when a knock came at the door.
"It's open!"
She kept working at the hair tie, back to the door, back muscles flexing with the strain. "Pete, do I need a jacket? It looks bright out there, but it could be that deceiving sun, yanno?"
Silence.
She turned around.
It wasn't Pete.
— Yelena’s POV —
Ok, stop fighting so hard. This should be easy.
She swung open the door before she'd fully prepared herself, which was her first mistake. Her second was letting her eyes land where they did, the line of Kate's shoulders, the flex of muscle beneath the skin of her back as she worked at her hair, and suddenly, unwillingly, a fragment of something she'd spent the entire morning trying to drown surfaced without permission.
Kate straddled Yelena’s lap, warm skin against warm skin, hips rolling slowly before Yelena’s hands closed around them firmly enough to still her.
A soft whine left Kate immediately in protest, breath catching as Yelena’s lips pressed against the side of her neck again, lower this time, teeth grazing lightly over sensitive skin. Yelena felt the reaction ripple through her instantly, the sharp inhale, the flex of muscle beneath her hands, the way Kate’s body seemed incapable of deciding whether to pull closer or fall apart entirely.
“Stay still,” Yelena had commanded against her throat, voice rough and low.
Kate absolutely did not stay still.
Yelena’s hands slid slowly up her bare thighs instead, thumbs pressing into soft skin just to feel the way Kate reacted. Her breathing kept hitching in these embarrassingly pretty little bursts, like she was trying very hard not to make noise and failing spectacularly at it.
Yelena moved her mouth lower, kissing along the line of Kate’s collarbone before biting gently enough to make Kate's back arch. She felt the muscles flex beneath her fingers as her hands slid higher, palms spanning across Kate’s back, nails scraping lightly over heated skin.
The memory snapped off violently there as reality slammed back into place.
She gripped the door frame.
—
Yelena stood just inside the doorway, one hand still gripping the frame seemingly very tightly, jaw fractionally slack, eyes somewhere they clearly hadn't intended to land, and slightly glazed over.
She was dressed as if she'd just come back from a run herself, dark green leggings, a white tank top with the faint press of a sports bra visible beneath, a sheen of sweat still caught at her collarbone and temples, hair loose and slightly damp at the ends.
Damn, she looked hot.
"Hot," Yelena said. There was a beat where Yelena's gaze hadn't quite made it to Kate's face yet. The word came out lower than it should have, rough at the edges, like she hadn't fully warmed up her voice yet. Or like something else entirely.
Another beat passed.
Kate blinked, scared she had said the thought out loud. "S-sorry?" stuttering a little over the word, having to force it out, cheeks turning red.
Yelena's eyes snapped upward, blinking. "The weather," she said, in a tone of complete calm. "It is hot outside. No jacket needed."
"Oh." Kate lowered her hands from her hair, which was now pulled into a tight ponytail, tighter than intended. "Right. That’s good, cool—great!"
Their eyes were locked, both with the demeanour of deer caught in headlights, before Yelena turned her head slightly toward the corridor, pulling her gaze away. "Are you—"
“Going for a run”, Kate said, all but too quickly, hands flailing and pointing in the general direction of Lucky and then his lead on the hook just above Yelena's head.
The air felt thick between them all of a sudden, and Kate didn’t know what to do with it. Yelena looked different, spaced out almost; her eyes kept drifting to other places in the room, never settling in her direction.
Kate made her way towards the door and reached for Lucky's lead. When she looked down at Yelena again, she realised she was standing far too close, but Yelena wasn’t pulling back, just looking up at her with an unreadable expression plastered on her face.
Yelena was usually unreadable, but this was a distinct difference from her usual unreadable expression.
The silence had settled longer than Kate could cope with, “Did erm, did—you want me for something?” she managed to get out, eyes still fixed on the blonde.
“Yes”, Yelena all but breathed out, matter-of-factly, then cleared her throat, seemingly remembering what she came for, “Breakfast…my Dad, he is making breakfast, it is silly tradition on mission days, and he asked me to come and get you so—”
“Oh my god, yes!” Kate blurted, the awkwardness lingering in the air dissipated, overtaken by the severity of her hunger “I’m starving!”
“Do not get too excited,” Yelena warned with a small smile.
“Why not! I mean, if he cooks anything like you, this is going to taste amazing.”
The word taste dragged something up from her subconscious before she could stop it.
Kate pushed Yelena against the pillows with surprising confidence, hovering over her for a second, both of them breathing hard. Hair falling forward, blue eyes dark and completely fixed on her mouth.
“I want to taste you,” Kate practically pleaded.
The words hit Yelena like a physical thing.
Dream-Kate moved down her body slowly, leaving open-mouthed kisses against her stomach while her hands followed after them, nails dragging burning scratches across skin in their wake. Yelena remembered the feeling with horrifying clarity, the heat of it, the way her body had reacted instantly and helplessly beneath her.
Kate pushed her own hair over one shoulder and pressed soft kisses against the inside of Yelena’s thighs.
Then she looked up at her.
Held eye contact.
Blue eyes blown dark and ruined around the edges.
And slowly Kate’s tongue slipped out as she lowered her head between Yelena’s legs.
“Yelena?”
The sound threaded strangely through the memory at first, distant and warped like it belonged to the dream too.
Kate’s mouth against her, Kate looking up at her through lowered lashes—
“Yelena?”
Reality slammed back into place, and her eyes snapped towards Kate.
Who was, unfortunately for Yelena, tying her shoe, looking up at her.
Very close to the exact angle from the dream.
Yelena forgot how to breathe for a second.
Kate frowned slightly, still crouched near the floor with one knee bent beneath her. "You okay?" she asked slowly.
No, Yelena thought immediately. Catastrophically no.
"I am fine," she snapped, the words coming out sharper than she intended.
Kate's mouth opened, then closed, a little taken aback by the sudden edge in it. "I was just checking," she said, with a genuine smile that didn't quite hide what was underneath it.
The guilt landed immediately. That feeling again; warmth being pulled from her chest.
Stop fighting so hard.
Kate finished tying her lace and stood, brushing her hands against her sweats, and Yelena's eyes betrayed her before she could intervene, tracking the movement downward, catching on the waistband of Kate's joggers sitting low on her hips, the soft grey fabric hanging just enough to expose the stretch of her stomach above it.
And then, entirely without her permission, her brain supplied the rest.
Thumbs pressing into skin. Kate rocking against her. That breathless sound close to her ear.
Yelena blinked it away.
Pull yourself together.
Every instinct she had said the same thing it always said: shut it down, force the distance, push her away before this gets any worse. But the conversation with Ava was still sitting somewhere just behind that instinct, quiet and annoyingly reasonable.
You're already hurting. And you're hurting her too.
Punishing Kate for what her own subconscious had decided to do in the middle of the night wasn't fair. She knew that. She just needed her nervous system to catch up.
This will get easier.
"I should go," she said, already stepping back into the hallway before the words were fully out. "My Dad is cooking unsupervised. It may start to look like your old apartment in there."
Kate tilted her head to one side, brow furrowed, like a golden retriever in confusion. "Purple?"
Yelena felt the smile before she decided to let it happen. She didn't fight it.
"Crispy," she said with a smirk, and turned down the hallway.
She walked away at a perfectly normal pace. Completely composed. Not at all aware of her own heartbeat.
—
Kate came down for breakfast, still wearing her workout clothes but wearing a baggy tank top over her sports bra, a little more appropriate for breakfast with the Avengers, she figured.
She took a seat at the kitchen island, quietly stifling a laugh next to Kamala as Peter and Cassie joined the silent operation to salvage Alexei's breakfast.
Yelena stood at the counter, transferring salvageable eggs into a separate pan behind her father's back, passing it wordlessly to Ava. Cassie had turned down the back burner three separate times. Bob had started a fresh batch of pancake batter and swapped out Alexei's eggshell-filled bowl with his own, positioning himself strategically between Alexei and the hob so he couldn't see what was happening behind him.
Yelena had taken the scrambled eggs off the heat just in time and was now seasoning them with the focused calm of a woman defusing a bomb.
Alexei was incredibly clumsy in the kitchen so Peter was on destruction watch, catching a ladle before it hit the floor, webbing the pepper grinder out of Alexei's reach before it made contact with Bob's fresh pancake batter, and intercepting a teetering plate with one hand without breaking stride.
At one point he shot a web across the kitchen to catch a falling whisk, reeled it in, and set it quietly on the counter.
Bob looked at him with an impressed side smile.
Peter shrugged.
The operation continued in silence.
Kate stood and drifted into the kitchen, wanting to help but acutely aware that she was arguably worse at cooking than him, and was promptly handed a plate of burnt sausages by Cassie.
Kate looked at her with a blank expression.
Cassie nodded toward Lucky.
Kate understood the assignment.
She began discreetly feeding Lucky sausages one by one under the island, and he accepted each one with barely a chew in his excitement.
A moment later, she felt a tug on the plate.
She looked up. Yelena had her hand on the other side of it, pulling with quiet, deliberate intent, her expression communicating everything the silence couldn't.
What followed was a conversation conducted entirely without words, which could be approximately transcribed as follows:
Yelena shook her head and gestured to Lucky, still pulling. This is bad for him.
Kate rolled her eyes and pulled back. Oh, come on. He can have a few sausages.
Yelena fixed her with a look that left no room for negotiation. No.
Kate lifted the plate out of her reach, then pointed at Lucky who was sitting between them with a very large smile on his face, completely unaware he was the subject of their silent argument, and aimed her best puppy dog eyes at Yelena, bottom lip fully deployed. Look at him. He deserves sausages.
Yelena jumped for the plate. Kate lifted it higher, eyebrow raised, a smirk settling onto her face at the realisation that Yelena was significantly shorter than her.
Yelena held her gaze flexed her jaw, and gave a slow nod that said very clearly: fine, you want to do this. Then she crouched down and gave Lucky a leisurely scratch behind the ears.
Kate smiled victoriously. She'd won.
Then Yelena reached out with two fingers and pressed a precise point just below Kate's knee.
Kate's leg buckled on reflex. Her grip on the plate slipped for exactly half a second and Yelena caught it on the way down with one hand, deposited the contents of the plate into the trash, smooth as anything, and turned back to the sink without a word.
Kate stood there, jaw slack.
In the reflection of the toaster, she could see Yelena's smirk.
—
The elevator dinged, and what emerged looked less like three super soldiers and more like the aftermath of a failed bachelor party. Sam, Bucky, and Walker shuffled out, clutching their heads, all squinting against the bright kitchen lights like they’d personally been betrayed by electricity.
Alexei appeared beside them immediately, patting Bucky and Walker heavily on the back and squeezing their shoulders far too hard. “You are feeling better, da?”
Walker made a sound that definitely wasn’t a word, and Bucky shrugged his hand off without ceremony.
The three of them found seats in silence and reached for the jug of water almost immediately.
Alexei, meanwhile, set the final items onto the table with great ceremony: a carton of milk and a cereal box featuring his own face, which he positioned proudly in the centre of the spread like a shrine.
“Okay,” Alexei announced loudly, rubbing his hands together. “We eat—”
“But first,” Yelena muttered flatly under her breath, already pre-empting him.
Alexei pointed triumphantly at her. “But first!”
Ava and Bob groaned in unison. Yelena dropped her head back dramatically.
“Daddy, please,” she sighed with the exhaustion of someone who had survived this exact moment many times before. “We do not need speech.”
“Big hero speech is part of tradition, Lena!”
He dragged a chair out from the table and climbed onto it. The wood creaked ominously beneath his weight. Several people watched it with immediate concern. Alexei ignored this completely.
At the other end of the table, Sam, Bucky, and Walker visibly winced at the scrape of the chair against the floor. Walker pressed two fingers against his temple like he was trying to hold his skull together manually.
“Today is big day!” Alexei boomed at a volume entirely unnecessary for the size of the room. “First mission with our new members!” He gestured broadly toward Kate, Peter, Cassie, and Kamala, who all straightened slightly in their seats on instinct. “On special days like this, I cook for team. I slave in kitchen to make fuel that carries us through battle—”
He paused dramatically.
“—and brings us victory!”
He placed a hand over his chest, genuinely emotional now.
“It is honour to use my culinary talents this way. I make this breakfast with my own hands—”
“Mostly,” Ava muttered without looking up from her plate.
The entire table went tense trying not to laugh.
Peter bit the inside of his cheek so hard his face twitched. Cassie stared fixedly at the ceiling. Bob suddenly became deeply invested in the contents of his orange juice. Kate pressed her lips together until they disappeared entirely.
Kamala, meanwhile, looked genuinely moved.
Alexei either didn’t hear Ava or chose not to. He lifted his orange juice glass high like a Viking giving a battlefield toast, sloshing a concerning amount over the side.
“—with love!” He beamed around the table warmly. “And although not all of us are there today in body, we are there in spirit. Together we are strong.” He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “Like bear!”
He climbed back down from the chair, which groaned audibly with relief, and started circling the table.
“We are with you in every shot of your arrow—” He stopped beside Kate and squeezed her shoulder with enough force to nearly dislocate it.
Kate winced visibly.
Yelena glanced down at her plate, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Kate caught it immediately and rubbed her shoulder with exaggerated offence.
“—and in every…” Alexei paused beside Peter, brow furrowing deeply as he searched for the correct term. He made two aggressive thwip motions with his wrists. “Every wrist rope.”
Peter looked genuinely touched. “Honestly? Close enough.”
“We go now with full stomachs and full hearts!” Alexei raised his glass once more, orange juice sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “Bon apple teeth!”
He stood proudly at full height, chest puffed out with absolute confidence in what he’d just said.
There was a beat of silence.
Then the entire table broke.
Cassie folded over laughing first. “What is bon apple teeth?!”
“It means eat,” Alexei replied solemnly, as though educating children.
Kate was laughing so hard she had to wipe under her eyes. “It’s, it’s bon appétit.”
Alexei waved a dismissive hand. “Apple is food. Teeth are what you eat with. This makes perfect sense.”
“American sayings are ridiculous,” Yelena added dryly, siding with him on principle alone.
“It’s French!” Kate laughed.
Yelena blinked once. “Apples are not French.”
That nearly killed the table completely.
As Kate tried and failed to explain through laughter, she caught the slight curve at the corner of Yelena’s mouth and realised instantly she was doing it on purpose now.
Alexei finally waved both hands with authority. “Kushayte na zdorov’ye.”
The table stared blankly for a moment, not understanding.
Yelena translated helpfully. “Everyone eat”
The laughter slowly settled into quiet chatter as everyone finally started eating properly.
About halfway through breakfast, Alexei leaned down under the table with a sausage pinched between two fingers. “Sausage for Lucky!”
Lucky lifted his head from his bed on the opposite side of the table, looked directly at the sausage, and then deliberately turned his head away.
Kate and Yelena looked up at exactly the same moment.
Their eyes met across the table, Kate ducked her head toward her plate, shoulders shaking. Yelena picked up her fork with the ghost of a smile still lingering at the corner of her mouth and continued eating like nothing had happened.
Alexei stared down at the rejected sausage, visibly offended.
“Picky dog,” he muttered before eating it himself.
—
First time writing anything remotely smutty; @bishovapls is the expert, but I tried my best! Any and all feedback is welcome🥰
Chapter 7 will be linked here.
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I'm about halfway through writing chapter 6, I promise I'll get it out as soon as I can, but just to tide you over...
—
Yelena woke with a sharp inhale, breath ragged at the edges, a ghost of a sound dying on her lips before she was fully conscious enough to be embarrassed by it.
For a moment, she just lay there, heart running faster than it had any reason to at 6:05 in the morning, staring at the ceiling with the particular disorientation of someone dragged reluctantly back to reality.
The room was dark and quiet, apart from her own breath. She blinked a few times, jaw slack, slowly regaining full consciousness.
She was used to waking up suddenly with ragged breath. Nightmares had been a fixture for long enough, the cold sweat, the hammering pulse, the few disorienting seconds of not knowing what was real, and finally the relief of finding herself nowhere near where the nightmare had put her. She knew the shape of that feeling intimately.
But this wasn't that.
Her skin was warm. Too warm. Her pulse was fast, but it wasn't fear. She became aware of her legs wound tight in the sheets, and a coiled warmth sitting low in her stomach that had absolutely no business being there at all.
Even with no distinct memory of the dream, every instinct was pulling her back toward it. To close her eyes. To find her way back to wherever she'd been and finish what was unfinished.
She lay very still while her brain caught up with her body and arrived at a conclusion she immediately didn't want to have.
Blue eyes.
She stopped that thought before it finished, untangled her legs from the sheets and got up.
She needed a shower. A cold one. She was across the room and into the bathroom before she'd fully registered moving, turning the tap to cold without ceremony and stepping under it before anything in her could change her mind.
The water hit her like a correction.
She stood under it, hands flat against the tile, and let it work. Her breathing slowed. Her pulse dropped. The warmth that had followed her out of sleep began, finally, to recede.
Good.
She closed her eyes.
That was a mistake.
Because the moment she did, something in her brain decided that the cold water and the quiet absence of anything else to focus on was an excellent opportunity to start filling in details. Not all of them. Just enough.
Hands trailing down her stomach, nails leaving a delicious burn in their wake.
Pale shoulders and the shift of back muscles draped in a sheen of sweat, brunette hair cascading in a pool over her lower stomach.
Warm breath caressing the delicate skin at the apex of her thighs. Blue eyes looking up at her, half-lidded, and a low familiar voice, just slightly undone, pleading her name.
"Yelena."
Kate.
Her eyes snapped open.
Despite the cold water clinging to her skin, she was burning.
She found herself biting her lip hard enough to almost draw blood, her fingers hovering over where she wanted them most, shaking slightly as she fought the urge to plunge them between her legs.
At the realisation of what she was close to doing, her other hand shot out and wrenched the tap colder, and she forced her head completely under the stream.
She pressed her forehead against the tile and focused on the cold.
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If this is your first time coming across my fic, you can read it from the start here👀
