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Okay, Kate thought. This looks bad.
First, she had been stabbed with a knife-arrow. Not her fault . Then, she’d pulled it out. Definitely her fault. Now, blood was gushing from her shoulder and through her fingers. Not entirely her fault, but now entirely her problem.
“Oh no…” she said, finally moving past shock.
“Oh god. Oh no oh god oh shit . This is bad, Kate. This is very not good.”
She weighed her options.
Hospital was out of the question–surely that would lead to questions, and any answers would lead to a mother-daughter reunion in prison. Just vigilante things! Clint was…an option. But he was still with his family, and Kate wasn’t sure she could handle the inevitable look and lecture of disappointment if she brought him into this. Which left her…fucked. It wasn’t like she was tight with any other Avengers or super-people. Well, except for–
“Shit.”
…
“Damn,” Yelena said, admiring her figure in the mirror. “I look pretty good.”
She was a few hours into becoming acquainted with the dressing rooms of Times Square’s retail selection. This was one of her more significant post-Red Room discoveries: Yelena loved shopping. Her time in the Red Room was epitomized by her uniform: it was chosen by someone else, tactical, meant to make her blend in with the world around her. It left her eager to experiment with more conspicuous fashion.
The only problem? The price tag. It was a problem, but not a significant problem. She was a trained spy and assassin, and the unsuspecting Urban Outfitters employees didn’t stand a chance. Yelena justified the whole routine as her doing her part in tearing down capitalist exploitation. Really, she just liked the clothes.
Yelena was deciding whether this latest find would be joining her haul when her phone rang.
Call from: Kate Bishop
“Shit.”
…
Tonight was one of the rare nights Kate Bishop was able to feel wholly unconflicted about sending her own mother to a prison cell. After her place went up in flames a couple weeks ago, it was nice to have an empty apartment to stumble home to. Plus, she didn’t have to hear her mom make a fuss about how “dangerous” and “destructive” her behavior was. Just because it was true didn’t mean she had to point it out.
Kate was laid out in pain–and trying her best not to think about the cost of the couch she was bleeding onto–when she heard a sing-songy Russian voice fill the air.
“Honey, I’m ho-ome. ”
Yelena breezed into the room like she was the one who lived there. She was sporting casual clothes and a far-less casual black bag, full of supplies.
Upon seeing Kate’s bruised and bleeding body spread on the couch, she grew deadly serious. The bag she was carrying hit the floor with a thud.
“Where is the injury?” she demanded.
“Nice to see you too, Yelena,” Kate said, hiding a groan. “Shoulder. Right side.”
“You said this was ‘no big deal’?” Yelena dropped down next to the couch, pulling back on Kate’s suit to take a closer look. “This looks bad.”
“I promise you, it feels even worse,” Kate said. “It’s not like I haven’t been hit with an arrow before–I’ve been an archer since I could hold a bow, after all–but nothing this bad. I think it may have–ow ow ow! May have had a serrated tip. It’s not like, terrible , though. I’ll be fine…” She looked to Yelena for reassurance. “I’ll be fine, right?”
“Look at me.” Yelena took her face then, hands gentle and voice firm. “You will be fine. I will take care of this.” She dumped out the contents of her bag on the coffee table; medical supplies, and a handle of vodka. The sight of it was enough to drain the color from Kate’s face, and the humor from her voice.
“That’s uh, that’s not for me, is it?” she asked, pointing toward the vodka.
“Very funny.” She screwed off the top and took a swig for herself. “I would not waste my good vodka on you, Kate Bishop.”
“Where did you get all that?” Kate asked, trying to distract herself from the persistent throbbing in her shoulder.
“I am, um, borrowing it. From a doctor’s office down the road. Let me tell you, he did not seem very happy to see me.”
“You stole this all for me?” Kate put a hand to her chest, touched. “That is actually…really sweet.”
Yelena grabbed a pair of medical scissors from her supplies. “I will need to cut this,” she said, gesturing to Kate’s outfit.
“Do you have to,” Kate whined. “I made it myself and I worked so hard on it and it matches Clint’s and–”
“I know, I know, you are very attached to the suit. However –” Yelena snipped through the first layer of fabric. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you: things, like your suit, can be replaced. But you , Kate Bishop, you are not replaceable.”
Kate returned a soft, tired smile. “Thanks.”
Yelena did her best not to aggravate the injury any further but still caught the muffled groans coming from her. She was about to cut through Kate’s sports bra when she paused. “Would you like to do this next part, or?”
“No, that’s–that’s ok,” Kate said, looking into her eyes. “I trust you.”
Yelena nodded in acknowledgement, then continued stripping away her blood-soaked suit.
Struck by Kate’s nakedness, she tried to recall her training. Nakedness was taught to be tactical. Clinical. It should have been clinical, preparing to stitch her body back together. Instead, it all felt so uncomfortably, unfamiliarly intimate. Intimate because they had a relationship built on trust and truth after only weeks, when her whole life had been built on deception for so long.
Meanwhile, Kate acquainted herself with the ceiling. She did not do well with blood–hers or anyone else’s. After a moment, Yelena approached her with a syringe.
“This will help you feel better. Help you relax.”
“Wait, what?” She felt a surge of panic rising in her throat like bile. “No–no no. I don’t need that. I’m totally fine. Totally relaxed.”
Yelena ignored her, coming closer until Kate swatted her hand away.
“This is me, a responsible young woman, saying no to drugs.”
“Puh-lease,” Yelena said, shifting her weight back so Kate could fully appreciate her mocking look. “I have seen your bedroom. It wouldn’t take a trained assassin to find your stash.”
“Hey! That’s different, I–wait, you’ve seen my bedroom? When did you see my bedroom?” Kate’s mind briefly changed courses in an attempt to figure out when she had time for a break-in.“You know what, never mind. Listen. If this is about pain, I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” Yelena answered earnestly. “But you don’t have to.”
The uncharacteristic sincerity of it was enough to give Kate pause, and her pause was enough to let the assassin inject her with the medicine.
Kate barely had time to give a glare of dissatisfaction before the drug kicked in.
When it did, Kate had to admit–she did feel better. December’s chill and the mounting blood loss should have left her cold. In its place, there was a growing warmth. Her limbs were like butter, and she was melting into the couch beneath her. Kate is melting, and Yelena is the sun . The crown of braids in her hair even created a delicate blonde glow around her face.
“How do you feel?” Yelena’s voice broke through the haze of drugs, the sound of it anchoring her.
“I feel…good,” Kate decided. “I feel good.”
Catching her drifting eyes, Yelena was satisfied and got to work.
From the corner of her eye, Kate could make out the push and pull of a needle and thread. She tried to take her mind off the gentle tugging in her shoulder and watched Yelena work. Her brows were furrowed, deep in concentration. She was startlingly competent. And beautiful.
Yelena noticed Kate’s anxious eyes lingering and spoke up.
“So, Kate Bishop. Are you going to tell me how you got stabbed? Cause the bow and the arrow–I am familiar. Being stabbed, that is a classic. But stabbed with the arrow? That is a new one for me.”
“Well, you see, I saw a guy trying to hurt another guy with a thing. And that was no bueno. I thought I had him. I did have him, actually. But ‘him’ turned out to be ‘them.’ And one of them stole my arrow and stabbed me with it.”
Yelena looked up from her patient and allowed a small smile. “So much for Happy New Year, eh?”
“I still have 24 hours left in December. Plenty of time to turn things around.” They shared a laugh, knowing each other’s luck at finding trouble. “I gotta say, I was kind of surprised when you picked up the phone. Why are you still in New York?”
“I came for business, stayed for pleasure,” Yelena explained. “I am curious, though–why me?” She snipped off a thread, finishing a stitch. “Why not call one of your heroic Avengers? Or did you, and I was your last resort?
“Not my last resort. Or the first,” Kate countered. “You were a sort-of middle resort, I guess.”
Kate was trying her best at playing indifference. The growing influence of painkillers was not helping.
“Hmmm.” Yelena smiled to herself, thinking. “It sounds to me, Kate Bishop, like you just wanted another excuse to flirt with me.”
“Couldn’t help myself, I guess.” Kate laughed, then winced. Shit. Did I really just say that? She did her best to disguise the pain of embarrassment as if it came from her shoulder.
Kate knew that she should just shut up at this point, but the words were dripping out like blood from her lips. “I meant it when I said I wanted to get that drink with you.”
Yelena raised one of her perfectly-filled brows. “I meant it when I said yes.”
Her words hung in the air for a moment. In the barren silence, their minds wandered to the same place, imagining just how nice that drink might be.
Yelena’s voice cut through the silence, eager to keep herself focused. “I am almost finished. I just need to finish tying up loose ends.”
“Thank you for doing this,” Kate said, willing her eyes to stay open for a few more minutes. “I’m not sure what the hell I would have done without you.”
“Of course. What would New York do without its greatest archer?” Yelena took a second to admire her finished work–neat and thorough, like always. “All done.”
Yelena brushed a hand against her forehead, tilting Kate’s face to meet her tired gaze. Kate blinked her eyes shut for a moment, savoring the feeling of her.
“You need to get some rest, Kate Bishop. Doctor’s orders. Okay?”
“Okay,” Kate managed. Then, with the memory of Yelena’s touch on her skin, she drifted and dreamed.
…
The smell of eggs and bacon filled the air, waking Kate from her rest.
Kate loved a lot of things, but nothing came close to the passionate, ongoing love affair she had with breakfast. If food was music to her stomach, breakfast was an all-hits, no-skip album. Eggs. Bacon. Bagels. Sausage. Pancakes. Bagels with eggs. You couldn’t go wrong.
With her shoulder screaming at her, Kate rose to follow the smell into the next room.
In the kitchen, of course, was Yelena. She had old music playing softly in the background, swaying her hips to the beat. The tune seemed familiar, but Kate couldn't quite place it. The whole scene was disarmingly domestic. She took a moment to admire the view before stepping in.
“Goooood morning,” Yelena said without turning around. “Although it really is not morning. You slept nearly the whole day. I have to admit, I was worried you would sleep into the New Year! There are only a few hours left…”
“I have to admit: I was half-expecting you to make a quick exit after I passed out last night.”
“Come on, we are closer than that, Kate Bishop! Besides, I could not resist another chance to cook for you.”
“It smells amazing.” Kate saw there were two places set at the dining table, with plates stacked with freshly-cooked food. “And it looks even better. Holy shit.”
“Come, come!” Yelena gestured toward the table. “Sit. Eat.”
They sat down across from each other, immediately chowing down. As Kate watched Yelena eat, she was once again grateful that her mom was locked up in prison. The sight of the two of them eating would have sent her spinning, and Kate would have received a stern lecture about “ladylike” table manners.
“So, how do you feel?” Yelena asked, gesturing toward Kate’s shoulder.
“Pretty good,” Kate answered between bites. “Thanks to you.”
Yelena waved her off with exaggerated flattery. “Please, you make me blush.”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly what your plans are or if you have any, I don’t know, high-stakes assassin missions to complete. But if you don’t–if you want to–you can stay here for a bit. Until the holidays are over.”
Yelena looked up from her plate. “You mean that?”
“Of course. Yeah. With it being New Years Eve in New York and all, things can get pretty crazy out there. I’m not sure how international travel works for, uh, superpeople? But JFK is a total nightmare. Wouldn’t want to be there if I were you.”
Yelena clapped her hands together with glee. “Oh-kayy, girls night part two! For real this time. We could paint each other’s nails, drink some champagne, watch the big ball drop.”
“I actually do have a question for you, super-woman to super-woman?”
“Shoot.”
“I just, every time I see you–which is not that many times, but enough times for me to notice–you have the most amazing hair. The sort of like…” Kate gestured around the top of her head. “Crown braids that you do? So cute but also so–”
“Practical, right?”
“Exactly!”
“Keeps the hair out of the face, but you still feel pretty. Yeah. You know, I actually wondered how that works with your hair because you have…so much hair. The most hair.”
“It’s a lot,” Kate agreed.
“Yeah, you do the, eh, ponytail thing? I know everyone calls it the ponytail but you have, like, actual pony’s tail. It is life size.”
“It is, it really is.”
“And then you have the bow and the arrow on your back! How does it not get caught?”
“Oh, it does.” Kate winced at the memories. It happened more often then she’d like to admit.“It sounds like I really need to up my hair game. You uh…wanna teach me?”
…
Kate sat on her childhood bed between Yelena’s legs. They had moved a mirror in front of them so Kate could watch what Yelena was doing.
The ease with which Yelena started so beautifully braiding her hair left Kate wondering if there was a super-woman focus group she was being left out of where they shared their secrets.
“Where did you learn to braid like this?”
“In the Red Room,” Yelena answered.
Kate considered that. “Hm.”.
“What is it?”
“I guess I just didn’t think hair braiding would be part of the, uh, curriculum.” Everything she knew about the Red Room painted a much darker picture.
“Oh, they teach you all sorts of things.”
“Like?”
“Like how to lie, how to kill…” Yelena brushed back a piece of her hair, and leaned down to whisper in her ear playfully. “ The art of seduction .”
Kate laughed, and caught a glimpse of herself blushing in the mirror. “I think you may need a few more lessons on that one.” She watched as Yelena worked, braiding just as precise as her stitches.
“Kate Bishop, you break my heart.” She continued weaving strands together, creating an intricate tapestry of Kate’s hair. “It is interesting. The more time you spend doing this, the more you realize that killing people and seducing them–it is not all that different.”
“How’s that?”
“You go for their weakness.”
Something else the Red Room taught, something that Yelena carefully omitted, is how to read human behavior. They molded her to be an ever-present master of observation, and it was nearly impossible to turn that part of her brain off. For example Yelena noticed that when her fingers brushed against Kate’s neck, she leaned ever so lightly into her touch. She noticed the flush in her cheeks as Kate sat between her legs.
She noticed everything.
“Ta-da! First half done. Beautiful,” Yelena said, admiring her handiwork.
Kate peered into the mirror in front of her. “Wow, look at that! You’re doing such a great job.”
“Thank you. You are also doing a great job, sitting there. Doing nothing.”
Kate leaned down to give a bow. “Kate Bishop, doer of nothing. At your service.”
They laughed together, Yelena leaning into Kate’s back. They were both quietly in awe at how easy this was–how easy it was for them to be together. In their line of work, not much came easily.
“I don’t know if this is too personal, and if it’s prying, tell me to stop,” Kate said. “But the Red Room. They kept you, basically as their prisoner, for years. And now, all of a sudden, you get this freedom. What is that like?”
Yelena stared into the hair strands in front of her, hoping to hide the tears she felt rising behind her eyes. “I spent so long being somebody else, I forgot who I was. Or maybe I never knew in the first place, I don’t know. Even now, I have been traveling the world, helping these other girls, you know?”
Kate nodded along with her, though she couldn’t say she really understood. The best she could do now was listen.
“I am still getting used to myself, still learning what I want. That is probably the hardest part,” Yelena explained. “It can be hard to figure out what I want, even when it is sitting right in front of me.”
Kate met her gaze in the mirror, and didn’t dare look away.
…
Yelena and Kate decided together that Eleanor in prison meant her alcohol was fair game. They sat curled up together on the couch, a few champagne bottles in, watching the clock tick closer toward midnight. The TV showed that there were only a few minutes left.
“I’m not always the most festive celebrator of holidays, but there’s something I love about New Years Eve–maybe it’s from growing up in New York, I don’t know. I just love the anticipation of it, I love the fireworks, I love the ball dropping, I love the midnight kisses, I–”
“Midnight kisses?” Yelena was confused. This was not part of the New Year's traditions she remembered.
“I, yeah? Did you not…have that…in Russia?”
“Well, I don’t know about Russia but we definitely did not do that in the Red Room,” she explained, downing another glass of champagne. Champagne made everything better.
“It’s just this thing, where when the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone. Now that I say it out loud, it sounds a little silly. But it’s fun.“
The TV ramped up in the background with the beginning of the final minute of the year. Outside the apartment, they could hear crowds building in excitement.
“This kiss. You kiss just anyone? Or someone you love?”
“Whoever you want,” Kate shrugged. She unfortunately recalled some of her more regrettable high school New Years.’ “I think the idea is that you kiss a person you want to be with in the new year.”
“Hm.” Yelena set her empty glass of champagne onto the table.
Kate turned toward her. “What is it?”
As she tried her best to read Yelena’s inscrutable expression, the countdown began: 10, 9.
“It’s just us here,” Yelena whispered.
8, 7.
“Oh no, we don’t have to–”
6,5.
“I want to.”
4, 3.
Kate smiled at her.
2,1.
And then, they kissed.
While New York erupted, everything around them simmered down into nothingness until they felt like the only two people in the world. The screams turned into whispers; the booming of the fireworks faded. All of the sparkle and magic and light they needed was inside, between them.
It was only when they pulled back, the taste of their lips still lingering on each other, that the world came back. As they looked into each other's eyes, still breathless, they heard the sounds of the city return. It was like all of New York was cheering for them.
“Wow,” Kate said. “That was. That was nice.”
“Could have been better,” Yelena teased, looking up at her. Kate hadn’t noticed how small she was until now.
“Practice makes perfect.”
Yelena tilted Kate’s chin down with a gentle thumb, not letting Kate look away.
“It better,” she answered.
And with that, they both knew the New Year would be better than the last.