"Shit, Greer! I told you, you gotta block Kate from seeing your Insta stories if you're gonna keep posting our hot ass whereabouts."
"Damn it," Franny sighed. "I was tryna be optimistic about her odds."
It wasn't that Kate's friends were trying to ignore her. It was that they didn't want to give her an easy out to come find and hang out with them instead of following through on a date. They had desperately hoped she would have success on her fourth date that week after she'd been stood up on the first, then stood up the second one herself, then bailed on the third one for reasons she wouldn't share. Greer had thought the cutie Kate had matched with tonight would be a surefire hit, but if she remembered correctly, the date had been for drinks at 8:30 and it was barely 9:00 now.
"I know," Kate sighed, walking up to them at the bar before either of them could say anything. "But I would've left even if I hadn't known where to come find you guys."
"Damn, she was so hot though! What happened?" Franny asked.
Kate shrugged. "She likes some messed up shit."
"Ooh," Greer murmured. "Like, kinky shit?"
"No, like right-wing shit she left off her profile."
"Eww," her friends chorused.
"We should've guessed that vibe," Franny went on. "Look at you, wearing a skirt and shit. No more getting gussied up unless it's like, the one. Yeah?"
The bartender came over to ask if Kate wanted anything, and looking to her left, Kate just said she'd take what Greer was having.
"Dude, you don't even know what this is," Greer said. "It's not your drink."
"I don't care," Kate mumbled, putting her face in her hands. "I don't want to think."
"You… don't have it in you to pick what alcohol you want?" Greer asked.
"I said I don't want to think!"
"It's a sex on the beach. Vodka."
"Oh, shit, really? I hate vodka."
Greer sighed, patting Kate on the back. "I know, girl. I know."
The last few months had involved one harrowing series of decisions after another, and Kate was, frankly, sick of it. She had known that her idyllic Christmas with the Bartons could only go on for so long, and after New Year's, she had returned to New York with a laundry list of shit to get done. The penthouse had been seized by authorities in her absence, and she had tried to get back some of her belongings—things of nostalgic value, things that couldn't possibly be important to any investigation of her mother, surely?—but had been refused the opportunity to even see an itemized list of what had been taken. Bishop Security had to be dissolved, and with that she was struck by the realization that she no longer had a job lined up after graduation—which she was no longer on track to be doing any time soon, given that she had failed to register for her last semester. She was in talks with the dean to see about returning another time, and also meeting with her mother's lawyers, and also overseeing the renovation of her burned up loft. Not to mention still recovering from: the fear and thrill of battle, learning about her parents' criminal activity, and her deposition.
It was overwhelming, and Kate felt like she had no one to really talk to about it. She left Clint several voicemails, but those were mostly asking for Avengers anecdotes to help distract her, and asking if there were any rumblings of danger out in the Midwest that he might need her help with. There was probably plenty here in New York that she could try to take on, but while she felt confident in her own brand of recklessness while Clint had her back, she didn't have the energy to dive in without a partner. She wouldn't even know where to start.
"You just need to get out of your head," Greer had told her. "And you know the best way to do that, right? Do something to get into your body."
Kate thought this had been a suggestion to take up yoga or something, but Greer explained she had meant sex. Dating apps weren't generally something that appealed to Kate; she liked to get to know a girl a little first before she went to bed with her, but she was so exhausted by the thought of making the effort to find and meet new people that she agreed to let her friends set up some profiles and even pick dates for her.
So far, not a great plan.
"Okay, since adulting is apparently too hard for you, let me order you a drink," Franny said, taking the rejected sex on the beach from the bartender and leaving it just in case Kate changed her mind later. "She'll have a Shirley Temple."
"A Dirty Shirley?" the bartender asked.
"Nope. Just a plain ole Shirley Temple, my good man."
The child's drink was condescending as hell, but Kate actually perked up a little after her first sip. Damn, that was good stuff.
"Ooh, S&M!" Greer suddenly said.
"What?! Don't say that in front of the Shirley Temple!" Kate put both hands around the glass as if to cover its ears.
"The song, Kate. Rihanna? It's my jam!" Greer hopped off the barstool and started sashaying a little. "Whoa, I just had a revelation. We gotta get you into some of that 50 Shadesshit, dude."
"Okay, how much vodka did you have before I got here?"
"No, no, I follow you," Franny said, also swaying to the song. "Remember Collins' course on Psychology and Human Sexuality? Could be just what you need, Kate Bishop!"
As her friends wended their way to the dance floor, Kate sipped on her drink and tried not to think too much about the sudden pang of desire that had rippled through her at the use of her full name.
Instead she tried to remember what lecture Franny was talking about. She was pretty sure she had been blushing the entire hour while Franny took copious notes for maybe the first time in that class. Dr. Collins had been using 50 Shades of Grayas a case study for pop sex psychology gone horribly wrong. Some guys in their class had made lewd comments afterwards, speculating about Dr. Collins' sex life, when she explained why powerful, confident people might be interested in sexual activities others assumed to be inherently demeaning.
A chance to let go and be free of the burden of making decisions, of responsibility, Dr. Collins had said. Let someone else take care of you for a while and call the shots so you can just relax. People in high pressure jobs, for example, might find it a welcome change of pace after being called on to do nothing but assume the power and responsibility of multiple high priority decisions all day long. In the bedroom with someone they trust, they can just let go…
Slumped over the bar with her non-alcoholic beverage, Kate's train of thought slipped away when some random dude took Greer's vacated seat. "Ditched by your friends, huh?" he said. "How 'bout I buy you a real drink to make up for it?"
"No, thanks," Kate mumbled.
"Aw, c'mon! You'll get the pleasure of my company as a free bonus."
Kate sighed. "Would you buy me mozzarella sticks instead?"
This suggestion clearly caught him off guard, and he didn't know how to say no without sounding like a douche. "Smart," he finally said. "You don't wanna get drunk on an empty stomach, right?"
"I don't want to get drunk at all."
"Then what're you—"
Before something else sleazy could come out of his mouth, someone lifted him up off the stool and pushed him away. Kate sat straight up, her mouth falling open in shock to see Yelena calmly taking the seat. The displaced dudebro seemed to want to say something, but Yelena shot him a dark look, and he decided he might as well try hitting on someone more receptive to his attention anyway and slouched off.
About a million thoughts were zooming through Kate's mind as Yelena got settled, rolling down her sleeves, though the words steamrolling everything else in Kate's brain were just fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK because how was Yelena here and so much damn hotter than Kate had remembered? Instead of her usual braids, her hair hung loose over her shoulders like it had the first time Kate had ever spoken to her. She had on a red leather jacket, loose-fitting and unzipped to her navel to show off a low-cut white tank. Her jeans were pitch black and tight, and unless Kate was very much mistaken (possible, in the low lighting of the bar), Yelena was packing.
Shit oh my god fUCK
"Hello there," Yelena said breezily, as if she had not just dispatched of a guy roughly twice her size—or, for that matter, had not last left Kate to go kill Clint. She seemed enviably unaware (or indifferent to?) how Kate was staring at her. "What drinks are good here, Kate Bishop? We'll order you some mozzarella sticks, of course."
"No," Kate said blankly. "No, that's—I just said that to try and get rid of that guy."
Yelena's brow furrowed in confusion. "You tried ordering fried cheese to make a man leave? Why not just kick stool out from under him? I think that would have been much more effective."
"If I'd been drinking something stronger, maybe I would have resorted to that," Kate snorted. With an airy little laugh as if the answer didn't really matter to her, she asked, "Um. What the hell are you doing here, by the way?"
"Clubbing," Yelena said, gesturing to the bar. "Is that not obvious? I can go elsewhere if you would rather I leave."
"No," Kate said quickly, and she fancied she saw a self-satisfied smirk flit across Yelena's stupid beautiful face.
"Good. Consider this our drink, then, that you offered. You know," she said, when Kate looked a little lost. "When I was kicking your ass at Rockefeller Center? Or, ah, was that your version of attempting to get rid of me, like that guy and the cheese sticks? Because I was sincere. I would have loved to get that drink with you after my assignment was completed."
"Your assignment to—" Kate hastily cut herself off, figuring it probably wouldn't be best to mention Yelena's line of work. "Which you didn't complete, I noticed. Thank you for that. Also noticed you, uh, didn't say goodbye."
Yelena offered a somewhat more sincere smile at that. "I suppose Clint Barton gave you details about how our encounter concluded."
"Not really, no," Kate said. "He wanted to respect your privacy, I guess. On top of sparing his life, he just said I didn't really need to worry about you anymore."
"Aw, did you worry about me, Kate Bishop?" Yelena teased her.
"No," Kate scoffed. "I mean—"
She cut herself off again, suddenly not wanting to offend the disarmingly charming assassin sitting next to her. Yelena guessed: "He meant you did not need to worry about my being a threat to you. He is right, of course," she said, when Kate just nodded. "But I would have hoped you would know that yourself. I do not consider you an enemy or a threat, and so from that you can conclude I would never truly be someone you must be concerned about." When this was met with only stunned silence, Yelena said, "I worried about you, though."
"What? Why, when, how?"
"One question at a time, Kate Bishop," Yelena chuckled. "I am not used to failing my assignments, and I thought killing Barton would not only be easy but a pleasure. When that turned out not to be the case, I needed some time to collect myself. I was very proud of you, from what I have heard, about how you handled the tracksuits. And I could not get you out of my head. Your voice, I mean. Telling me I ought to look more into people who hire me."
"How does that translate into worrying about me?"
Yelena shrugged. "I do not usually give a shit what people think of me. That sort of investment in other people's feelings, their thoughts, it has never gone well for me. But I worried what you thought of me. I have left that line of work, by the way."
Kate stared, thunderstruck. "Because of me?"
"No," Yelena said in a hard voice, not wanting to transfer any kind of advantage over to the very eager looking girl eyeing her with interest. "Because I may be good at what I do, and may have only targeted the wicked as assigned by the wicked, but I was wrong at least once and do not want that to happen again. I do not want others giving me assignments. I want my choices to be mychoices. My control. Time to be getting my life back on a good track, yes?"
"Uh. Sure, yeah. Definitely."
"What is that, may I try?" Yelena asked, nodding at Kate's drink. All Kate could do was push the Shirley Temple over, looking mystified. She burst out laughing, though, when Yelena took a sip of the sugary drink and made a face that reminded Kate of a cat's expression when it encountered something it found distasteful. It was shockingly adorable, and Kate couldn't help cracking up. Barely suppressing a cough, Yelena handed the drink back with almost scandalized disgust. "That is far too sweet, Kate Bishop."
"I suppose you'd rather go with sex on the beach?" Kate asked.
Yelena frowned thoughtfully. "Are you offering?"
"Yeah, sure," Kate sighed, passing over her old order. "I don't like vodka."
"What is this?"
"Sex on the beach. The cocktail? What…did you think I was—"
"Cocktail, yes, of course," Yelena said, grabbing hold of the glass and taking a rather large sip. "Ah, there were go. Although you know, just because I am Russian does not mean vodka must be in every drink I consume."
Kate sipped the rest of the Shirley Temple until no liquid was left, and it was only the loud sound of the straw sucking up nothing that made her realize the drink was done. "Mm. Well, I can add that to the list of like, three things I know about you."
She ate the maraschino cherry that had come in the drink, but Yelena caught her wrist before she could toss the stem back in the glass. Oh Christ oh Jesus fuck were again the only words Kate's brain could process as Yelena held her gaze, took the stem from her, and put it in her mouth. Kate's heart was pounding but not as intensely as the spot between her legs as she watched the stem disappear behind plum-painted lips. Yelena kept her hand on Kate's wrist and her eyes locked confidently on Kate's, as Kate started to sweat watching the subtle movements of Yelena's jaw.
The fact that a simple party trick could get Kate so worked up was kind of endearing, and Yelena couldn't wait to see how the rest of the night would unfold. In time she pulled the stem out of her mouth, tied into a perfect knot, and held it out for Kate to see. She licked her lips, making sure Kate saw that as well.
"There is something else you can add to your list."
"I wonder what else I could add to it," Kate murmured.
But the quiet, seductive voice she'd attempted was no match for the Usher song now being blasted in the bar. "I'm sorry, what?" Yelena asked, leaning closer.
"I said, do you want to go somewhere else?"
In response, Yelena slid off her bar stool and gestured for Kate to lead the way. Kate quickly signaled the bartender and paid up before heading out, without taking the time to say goodbye to her friends.
"I guess it is a good thing you posted our whereabouts," Franny said to Greer, who simply shouted "you're welcome" as they watched Kate leave with some hot blonde.
Once outside, away from the thudding music and stifling crowd and smell of alcohol, Kate found herself losing a little of her nerve. Thick strands of her hair had been stuck to her face with the sweat of the hot bar, but they were loosened by a cold gust of wind that further weakened her resolve. Yelena was watching her, patiently, with heady eyes.
"Well, Kate Bishop?" she said, pitching her voice as deep and raspy as it would go and all but seeing Kate's knees buckle. "Where shall we go?"
"Maybe…" Kate's throat suddenly felt very dry; she licked her lips and swallowed and tried again. "Maybe some place quieter?"
"Quieter? A library, perhaps?"
The mocking tone in Yelena's question went unacknowledged. "I'm so fucking sick of having to choose," Kate said softly. "Where would you go with me, Yelena?"
There was a strong desire to tease Kate further, with the unspoken I'd go anywhere you want just hanging between them. The thought of actually taking Kate somewhere like the New York Public Library and making some of the books fall off the shelves, making Kate try and find out how quiet she could be, was kind of attractive in its own weird way. But as appealing as the image was, Yelena didn't want to go someplace where either of them would have to worry about making noise.
"Why don't you show me to your loft?" she suggested, her voice so sensual that Kate felt everything inside her just melt. "I bet it's looking much better than last I saw it."
Even though this was what Kate had hoped Yelena would say, she found her heartbeat racing and struggled to speak. The loft wasn't far, she explained, and on impulse she almost reached out for Yelena's hand to lead her there. The romantic inclination dissipated as quickly as it had come, though, helped by the fact that Yelena had casually put her hands in her coat pockets to protect them from the evening chill. They walked the few blocks in silence, which Yelena was comfortable with while Kate's mind was a blur trying to come up with something suitable to say.
Once they reached the complex, they started up the stairs in more silence (Kate tromping along, at times wondering if Yelena was behind her because the woman's footsteps were so damn quiet). Kate suddenly felt very self-conscious about how much she seemed to be sweating and realized she wasn't really sure what exactly was going to happen once she opened the loft door. How did this sort of thing always seem so simple in movies? A couple would be flirting at a bar or something and then boom, smash cut to them hardcore making out in a hotel room and pulling off each other's clothes. As she struggled to extricate her keys from her pocket, feeling feverish, Kate wished she had time to fire off a series of angry tweets any lazy-ass screenwriter who had ever cut from point A to point C like that without spelling out what seemed to be the really, really important point B.
It's not that Kate had never been with anyone before, or invited them back to her place before. It had just never been with someone like Yelena, someone who was essentially a stranger and so much damn cooler than her in what seemed like every conceivable way. Kate was a wine and dine, go-on-a-couple-dates first kind of girl, and this jump out of character was as nerve-wracking as it was thrilling.
The moment Kate got the door open, though, her curiosity about who would make the first move was taken out of her hands because it wasn't her or Yelena, it was Lucky. He bounded at Kate with a happy bark and almost knocked her over before she could quickly get on her knees to calm him down and say hello.
To her surprise, Yelena had knelt down right next to her and was scratching Lucky's ears with both hands, smiling at him in a fashion similar to the way she had smiled at Kate over their macaroni. It was altogether an adorable image which reminded Kate that despite Yelena's intimidating fighting capabilities, a lot of their interactions had been surprisingly… nice?
While Yelena lavished attention on her dog, Kate grabbed some treats and stuffed them into one of his toys: a ball with a small trick opening that would drop a treat now and then while Lucky batted it around. It was usually something Kate left out for him to play with when she would be gone for a while, because it could keep him occupied for long stretches of time. She shook it to get his attention, and at the sound of rattling treats, Kate got him to follow her upstairs where she finally let the toy loose.
"There," she said, coming back down to Yelena. "That ought to keep him busy for a while."
"Mm. And how about us, Kate Bishop?" Yelena asked, getting to her feet. "How should we keep ourselves busy?"
She started walking towards Kate, who almost fell backwards over the couch. "How about an ice breaker?" Kate heard herself suggesting.
Yelena cocked her head with an adorable furrow of her brow. "You want what?"
"An ice breaker? It's like, y'know, a thing that you do to… sort of… get to know someone?" She continued rambling before Yelena could tell her she was familiar with the term. "A get-to-know-you type thing to relieve tension or inhibition between people. Start a conversation, facilitate getting to know each other."
There were other, less chatty ways of relieving tension that Yelena could think of. But whether it was because Kate was anxious or just genuinely unprepared to follow through on whatever tension Yelena had sensed between them, Yelena wanted to be sure to honor that. She sat herself down on the couch, and Kate eventually sat on the other end, leaving a wide empty cushion between them.
"Okay, Kate Bishop. How would you suggest we break this ice?"
Of course now that she had suggested it, Kate was struggling to come up with ideas. "Um. I guess Truth or Dare isn't really one—"
Yelena made a dismissive sound and waved her hand. "That game is ridiculous anyway. Dares are juvenile, and I always tell the truth to begin with. Unless the information is classified, in which case, no party game would ever open my lips. So to me, there is no point to this game."
"You always tell the truth, huh?"
"Yes. Unless it is classified."
"Unless it is classified. Of course."
"Is there something you would like to ask me, Kate Bishop?"
"…no."
But Yelena had noticed Kate's eyes dart towards her, Yelena's, lap, and she purposefully widened her stance a little. "You want to ask about my cock."
Kate's eyebrows shot up at the unexpected word choice. "Um."
"This is not classified. I wear it for pleasure now and then. It gets me ramped up, you might say."
"Edging."
"Yes," Yelena said in a calm voice, doing everything within her power to keep her smile from turning wicked. "That way, even if I go out and do not find a woman I would like to take to bed, or who would like to go to bed with me, the evening is not a total loss. I have fun while I am out, and can have fun at home on my own."
She almost took pity on Kate, who looked so overwhelmed and so full of want and so out of her element all at the same time. Yelena would never, ever go somewhere she wasn't wanted, but if Kate just needed a little more of a nudge to help her, Yelena would give it to her.
"What else might there be, Kate Bishop? Another one of your party games. Just the first that comes to your mind, to put you more at ease."
Perhaps because of its tangential relation to Truth or Dare, the one Kate immediately thought to suggest was "Two truths and a lie."
"Two truths and a lie? What kind of spy would I be if I played this game honestly?"
"It doesn't have to be like, top secret stuff," Kate sighed. "It's just, you already know so much random stuff about me and I don't know hardly anything about you except for your fighting skills, your drink preferences, and your tongue's… abilities. And how you sometimes like to accessorize," she added, hating that she could feel herself growing redder and redder. This is fine. Buy yourself time and deflect, Bishop. That's all you're doing. "Like, here's an example about me: One: I have a dog; two: I was the lead singer in my friend's band when I was fourteen, and three: my favorite dessert is chocolate soufflé."
"You were not lead singer," Yelena said, much faster than Kate had anticipated. "I already know you have a dog, dumbass; and someone with as much a sweet tooth as you have could not pick just one favorite dessert, at least so fast off the top of your head. I believe you may have been in some band, though. And you were pissed off that they wouldn't let you be lead singer."
"Damnit," Kate muttered, leaning back on the couch. "Fine, okay, you're good at this. Now please, c'mon? Your turn. I'll take anything."
"Anything." Yelena's lip curled into a competitive smirk.
"Yeah, anything," Kate said, encouraged by the spark in Yelena's eye. "Any two truths and any lie. Make it good, surprise me."
Yelena leaned forward, punching her fist into her other hand. "One: When you were being an annoying brat in the elevator at Rockefeller Center, I considered kissing you to distract you. Two: when you slapped me in the elevator, I considered retaliating by throwing you against the wall and spanking you. Hard," she added, when she heard Kate whimper. "Three: I have not thought at all that I would like to fuck you." She sat back again with a casual sigh, crossing her leg ankle to knee and looking quite pleased with how dumbstruck she had rendered Kate. "Where is the lie, Kate Bishop?"
But Kate couldn't think. Her mouth had fallen open, yet nothing was coming out. When she tried to speak, all that she could manage was, "Uh. Wh… uh."
"Go on. Guess. This was your game."
"You… 're not—you wouldn't have… spanked me, really. Or kissed me to distract me? C'mon."
"Wrong," Yelena said with an airy sigh. "What happens in this game when your guess is incorrect? Does the player need to be punished in some way?"
Suddenly feeling severely dehydrated, Kate shook her head. Shit, the last one was the lie. She thought about kissing me. Spanking me. Fucking me? Since we first met? Holy fuck.
Clearing her throat and trying not to look ruffled, Kate said: "No, you don't get penalized. You… I guess this works better when there's more people. Otherwise I guess you do so many rounds and y-you see who guesses right the most times. So, okay, so far you're winning in that department." She laughed nervously, barely able to maintain eye contact and feeling herself blushing hard under Yelena's wolfish grin. "S-so, I'll go again. One: I would have been receptive to at least one of those things in the elevator, maybeboth. Two: I've also. Um. Maybe thought about sex. In regards to, uh, you. Three: I want to know what you like to do in bed."
Yelena tilted her head to the side. "I believe you forgot the point of your game and just started listing ideas as they came to you. There are no lies."
Kate blinked slowly. Shit. "As an eight foot tall person, I am saying I want to know what you'd like to do in bed. To me. Withme."
"Oh, that's how we're playing now." And Yelena upped the stakes by moving closer on the couch, sitting directly next to Kate—who calmly assessed that she may have forgotten how to breathe. "Showing our hands, hm? Here is your next round, Kate Bishop. One: When it comes to sex, I do not necessarily enjoy tying anyone up or handcuffing or gagging them in bed, but I do like to be in control. Two: you know what my tongue can do, and I would like to see what yours can. Your tongue and your pretty, pretty mouth. Three: I have green hair."
That she could make that third statement with a straight face made Kate laugh—a goofy, almost maniacal outburst of what the hell can this actually be happening exultation, and it made Yelena smile.
"Well," Kate said in a strangled voice, reaching out to twirl Yelena's hair with her fingers. "This doesn't look green to me, so either I'm colorblind or that's a lie."
Yelena reached up, taking Kate's hand and bringing it to her lips. "Correct, Kate Bishop." She gave Kate's hand another kiss, wetter, sturdier. "Your turn."
Kate was trembling, and she was certain that even if Yelena hadn't been able to tell that by holding her hand she probably would have been able to see it. "One: my eyes are yellow. Two: I have had to be in control of so much shit in my life this past month that honestly, someone else calling the shots for a change sounds great." Her breath hitched when Yelena tightened her grip on her hand, just a little. Inched closer, just a little. "Three, I really want you to fuck me."
The words had barely left Kate's mouth before Yelena had pulled her into a kiss. Kate reacted at once, kissing her back with a passion she had not been able to unleash for weeks. She threw her leg over Yelena's lap, straddling her, and moaning when Yelena's hands grabbed her ass to pull her closer. Yelena squeezed, and when Kate gasped, Yelena took the opportunity to sweep her tongue into Kate's mouth. Kate whimpered, all but melting into Yelena's arms.
After several moments of this, Yelena broke off the kiss to shift her lips to Kate's neck. "You want me to tell you what to do, Kate Bishop?" she whispered, before lightly biting her skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulders. "You want to show what a good girl you can be for me, hm?"
A breathy, desperate "fuck" was all Kate could manage when Yelena deftly maneuvered a hand between them, slipping it up Kate's skirt to graze against increasingly wet underwear.
"That word is not an answer."
"Yes, Yelena, fuck. I do. I will."
"Mmmm. Good girl," Yelena growled, and the words alone might have made Kate wetter. Yelena stroked her with a little more pressure through the soaked fabric, making circular patterns and living for the short, intense gasps Kate was breathing into her ear. "You like that, yes? You want these out of the way, me inside you?"
"Yes, yes—"
But rather than follow through on this, Yelena withdrew her hand and the disappointed, confused look on Kate's face was one of the most attractive things Yelena had ever seen. "Patience, Kate Bishop." She patted Kate's ass. "First, I want to see you on your knees for me."