They took the bedroom window way back into the apartment just because they could. "We're back, Aunt May!" Peter called into the apartment, knowing his Aunt had definitely stayed up to wait for them. She appeared in the doorway moments later, scanning both of them with her eyes.

"Well there's no blood, so…" She sighed, but with a smile. "Glad you're home safe. I"m going to head to bed- you two should too, it's late."

Peter and Katya glanced at each other briefly before nodding. "Of course Aunt May, get some sleep. Love you."

"Love you too Pete." She disappeared from the doorway.

Katya took her coat off, draping it over the back of the desk chair before sprawling herself across the floor. Peter snickered, and laid down next to her. "I think she intended for us to sleep in actual beds."

Katya sighed, but in a relieved, almost cleansing, way. "It's over." she said to the room in general, the finality of her voice hanging in the silence. Peter adjusted himself so he could hold her hand as they laid down.

"It's over." He repeated.

There was a beat where neither of them said anything, just enjoying the exchange of breath in eachother's company. Katya turned to him. "Do you think it's wrong that I get to stay here, and live this amazing life, whilst the rest of them are out freeing the others?" Her tone was light, but the statement betrayed her troubled mind. Peter shook his head.

"You did the same thing the second you could, and now another Widow's free. And it's thanks to you." He squeezed her hand. "It's like you said- you get to choose your life now. I think you're doing exactly the right thing. It's what you all want for each other."

Katya shrugged, staring at the ceiling, her other arm draped across her stomach. Part of Peter wanted to ask how her stitches were doing, but since she hadn't complained and nothing was visibly wrong, he left it alone.

"Do you remember what you said to me on the helicopter on the night of the Snowball?" Katya asked suddenly, again more to the room than Peter directly. Peter'd said a lot of things on that helicopter ride, but he knew what she was asking.

"I don't remember how to pronounce it, if that's what you're asking," He said with a small laugh.

"Ya tebya lyublyu."

"Ya tebya lyublyu." Peter repeated. Katya smiled, still staring at the ceiling, and nodded. She turned to look at him, then. Their eyes met with a spark, but Peter didn't feel his face go red; he just felt a soothing, slow spreading warmth in his chest.

"Did you mean it?" Her gaze was locked on his so fiercely his stomach lurched, and the warmth quickly spread throughout the rest of his body, but there was a twinge of that darting, uncertainty in her eyes. Peter rolled over momentarily so he could kiss the back of her hand that she clasped in his.

"Of course I did."

Katya seemed to let go of a breath she must have been holding, and her face spread into a wide smile. "Good. Because I did, too."

Peter rolled over further, this time so he could prop himself up on his elbow, and give her a proper kiss. The room was silent save for the sounds of the city below and the light guitar covers of christmas carols that played in the background of the televised fake fireplace May'd put on earlier, that she must have forgotten to- or intentionally hadn't- turned off. She leant up into it, putting her free hand to the back of his head to bring him closer. "Ya tak lyublyu tebya, pauchok." she muttered into his lips, smiling. Peter wasn't sure what the extra words in that sentence meant, but he could guess the sentiment, and just kissed her harder.

"Ditto, Myshka."

He rolled back onto his back and she snuggled into his side. They stayed like that for a while, Peter not wanting to move a muscle, and ended up sleeping on the floor after all.

—-—-

The next few weeks passed in a weird flurry, between the weird, slow pacing of the week between Christmas and New Years already lending a sense of surreality to the time's passing, and Katya and Peter spent a lot of time with Aneszka, showing her the parts of New York that she'd missed when she'd been under ("You've never been to the zoo! Katya asked wildly, 'They've got this beautiful eucalyptus plant-" "-yeah, to feed the Koalas." Peter added, as if it was an aftethought.) . She'd seen it, of course, she'd lived there for a year, but she never really saw it, so it was like leading both a toddler and a tourist around, watching everything with wide eyes. Peter spent the week doing patrols on his own, which he realized was a lot more lonely than he'd expected, but Katya was the one Aneszka really needed right now.

Yelena and the others must have been connected to the files stored in the tracker as well, as soon enough Katya received another phone call, this time in the middle of class- spring semester had started up, and she'd convinced Peter to take art history with her, which he actually found surprisingly interesting. She'd excused herself to the bathroom during it, and then texted him. Just spoke to Yelena about mission accomplished. They're going to contact her and come pick her up this afternoon. I'm leaving at lunch to go meet them.

Can I come? Peter texted back under his desk. The three dots indicating she was typing seemed to take forever, but eventually it spat out Of course.