I know, I know, I'm sorry, the girls had their first kiss and then you had to wait a week at minimum for the next chapter, and I'm here to tell you that there is no silly gay girl kissing here it's very unfortunate I know-

Content Warnings: Some Natasha and Red Room angst, silly stupid useless hopeless lesbian pining but what's even new here really

Yelena stays standing in the middle of Kate's kitchen (their kitchen?) for another ten minutes before her brain finally reloads and she's able to look around at the apartment. Clint and Kate seem to have taken both of the dogs with them, because their red and purple leashes are gone from the designated hook that Yelena had put up for them, and there's no tell-tale nails clicking on the floors or snoring from the couch. That's fine with her. She probably wouldn't be able to entertain them, anyway.

She raises a slow hand and brushes her finger-tips over her lips for what is surely the millionth time, cheeks warm and stomach full of something she can only call elation.

Kate kissed her.

Kate Bishop kissed her.

A smile breaks over Yelena's face. I hope she kisses me again.

In a sudden burst of energy and desire to do something, the assassin downs the rest of her now-cold coffee and grabs every dirty dish she can find to pile into the sink before rolling up the sleeves of Kate's college hoodie and delving her hands into hot, soapy water. The joy of participating in something so mundane is not lost on her- especially as her mind loops through those breathtaking moments over and over again without fail.

Lithe, calloused fingers tangling into her already messy braid- a dirty chocolate milk glass. A shaky but brave hand gently pinching her chin between a thumb and knuckle and raising her face up- stray, rouge bubbles lathering her elbow. Warm breath on her cheek, hooded blue eyes, loose strands of dark hair brushing her forehead- a spoon that threatens to soak Yelena in one fell swoop. A mouth on hers, lips like rain drenched, dying rose petals- a particularly annoying bowl.

Dishes cleaned, a girl with doe eyes and a teasing smile. Sink drained, an archer with soft, unruly hair and freckles hidden on the back of her neck. Dishwasher started, a woman with steady hands and a heart so deep Yelena could drown in it.

Repeat.

——

She finds herself staring at a row of noodles on the store shelf, calculating how much to get, how much cheese to buy, what ingredients might make Kate Bishop smile and swoon and maybe kiss her again. Yelena grabs the strangest shaped pasta she can find and places it happily in her already full basket.

Maybe she was going a little overboard.

Admittedly, Yelena Belova was just a little baby bear herself, with little to no restraint when it came to the people she cared about. Alexei had always been victim to her biggest hugs and terrible crayon drawings, Melina to her small, clinging hands and trampled flowers Yelena picked for her from her own hard-grown garden. They had always cooed over her creations of sticks and dirt, happily allowed her to squish their cheeks with her sticky fingers while she kissed their noses. She would burrow into the covers of Natasha's bed when her sister got home from school and wait until she was in reach before jumping out in a flurry of golden glee, toppling them both to the ground until the redhead assented to reading her favorite stories to her again and again.

Even the Red Room had not managed to kill the thoughtfulness she carried. It was unceremoniously slipping her extra portion of fish to the malnourished Widow she bunked with. It was brushing hands with the older girls when extra training left them bleeding, broken, bruised. It was silently braiding the hair of one Widow while another did Yelena's as quickly as they could in the showers before they were to report to their rooms. It was watching the girls that Dreykov liked best after having them brought to his office stumble back into the training hall, only to fall into the arms of dozens of sisters who quietly stood with her.

The chemical subjugation had stolen herself away, but with every moment that she lived without it, every second she breathed by her own accord and dared to see the world however she wished, Yelena found more and more to smile at.

As the blonde wandered around the grocery store, little red basket in hand and eyes wide with ideas, she excitedly pictures the look on Kate Bishop's face when she comes back to the apartment after her day out with Clint to see the ingredients for the baked mac-n-cheese that Yelena had always begged for Melina to make when she was little. She hoped Kate would be as eager to make it with her as she was.

Yelena hadn't originally meant to end up in the small toy section tucked away into the back of the store, but now that she had found herself in it, the colorful little baubles and figurines were entrancing. She skimmed her fingers over racks of plastic cars, a basket full of rubber balls and small plushies, boxes holding figures of athletes, pop stars, superheroes-

She stops and doubles back when her eyes alight on a splash of purple. It's a Hawkeye figurine, one that Yelena realizes must be a new model, seeing as it has Clint's most recent purple suit. She grabs it without a second thought and adds it to her basket. After all, Kate Bishop got her a Natasha figurine- maybe a little Clint to go with her would be nice.

Yelena continues to wander, letting her eyes and mind roam. There's soft music playing somewhere. A thought begins to dawn on her when she looks back down at the Hawkeye in her basket. Hearing him and Kate Bishop exchange the title back and forth had been itching at something in her brain, but she's just now putting the pieces together.

Was Kate planning to officially take up the mantle of Hawkeye, the world's greatest archer, and therefore... an Avenger? Would Clint finally be able to peacefully retire the name to someone younger, someone with more years ahead and enough ambition and skill to make a strong successor? It made sense to her- even with the little pieces of Kate and Clint's relationship that she had seen, Yelena already knew they had something special; an easy bond that didn't always find everyone.

If Kate is the new Hawkeye, because of her connection to Clint, does that make Yelena... the new Black Widow?

Her feet stop, and Yelena furrows her brow in thought, accidentally glaring hard at a bag of white rice. It's an idea, that's for sure. She doesn't know how she feels about it. And she doubts it'll ever even come up, much less actually come to fruition. No one has mentioned such a thing.

But if someone said something... would I take it? Could she handle filling Natasha's place?

Yelena made a mental note to bring it up to Kate later and continued on towards check out, albeit now a bit more absentmindedly. She had blood money to spend.

She is the literal love of my life can't you tell 😎🤗🤨🤨🤨

Translations: none

Kate Bishop Counter: 5

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