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It has been a long day on the Hawkeye-job for Kate, so, covered in sweat, and grime, and blood (mostly not-hers, she hopes), the last thing she wants to see when she gets home is her front door busted open. She pauses for a second and considers -- who wants to kill her this week? The list is long, as usual, but breaking and entering isn’t really the style of her current villains-of-the-month.
And then she smells it. The tangy, salty, cheesy smell of Kraft macaroni. Of course.
“What are you standing out there for? You look like an eediot,” calls out a heavily accented voice.
“Um! Okay! First of all, rude. Second of all, you couldn’t even see me,” Kate yells back.
“No, but I can imagine. Please, come in.”
“I don’t need someone to invite me into my own home, thank you Yelena.” Still, Kate unfreezes and enters the -- her -- apartment. She is met by the blonde spy who is grinning ear to ear.
“I made dinner!”
“I see that.”
“You don’t look excited,” says Yelena with an exaggerated pout.
For a second, Kate feels bad. Yelena looks so proud of her Kraft macaroni. And then she remembers that Yelena broke into her house, so she stops. Or, just “entered,” as Yelena would remind her. She’s “way too good” to break anything. Instead, Kate pulls up a stool.
“I’m sorry, it has just been a long day and I’m…” Oh my god she totally forgot that she probably looks like she just emerged from hell. Or better yet, a demon from hell. Like, totally gross. And oh man, she probably smells so bad. In a rare moment of self-consciousness, Kate retreats into herself as if it could prevent the foul post-Avenging odor from reaching Yelena. But why does she care anyway? Yelena is… a friend, she supposes. Certainly, an unconventional one who she pretty much only sees when she decides to break -- enter -- into her house.
The first time it happened was shortly after Yelena tried to kill Clint at Christmastime. It was an apology pot of Kraft macaroni and Kate quickly got over the violation of law and personal boundaries when Yelena started telling her a bit about Natasha. Call her a softie.
Anyway, she probably shouldn't have let that slide, because next thing she knew, every month-or-so Yelena was popping up for a meal, no matter where Kate was. Sure, when she moved out of her charred apartment and into a fresh place, Kate bought a box of Kraft Macaroni and happened to leave it unopened next to the stove but it didn’t really mean that she wanted Yelena to track her down again. In fact, the slight pang she felt at the idea that Yelena wouldn’t know her new address, was totally overshadowed by the relief she felt at not being caught off guard again.
She really shouldn't've been surprised when one day she found Yelena sitting on her new couch in her new apartment, pot of macaroni in hand. And she also really shouldn’t’ve felt as happy as she did, considering how weird it was. It’s weird, right? The next time, just as Kate was getting worried -- no, comfortable -- that Yelena wasn’t going to show up again, Kate was sunbathing on the roof of her apartment and Yelena appeared out of nowhere with a box of Pizza. “Macaroni was getting old,” she pronounced.
Yelena was unpredictable. Sometimes she would stop by within the span of weeks, other times months would go by and Kate would find herself missing Yelena’s dinner company, against her better judgment. What was predictable was that she would always enter and exit without a trace -- no warning sign, open door, cracked window, dirty dish -- and with some kind of meal in hand, even if it was cooked on Kate’s own stove while she was away. And somehow, Yelena always knew to come when Kate didn’t have company. Not that she often had company.
She made the mistake of asking Clint about this situation (Is it a situation?), who figured Yelena just wanted a friend. She guessed that made sense. After all, Yelena had been a brainwashed assassin for, like, her whole life and is only now entering some kind of normal adulthood. Normal, for an unbrainwashed assassin, she supposed. Kate didn’t know if that made her feel bad for her or… stuck in the friendzone. An idea that she pushed down since she has no time for dating now that she has joined the Young Avengers. And who’s to say Yelena is even --
“Hello? Earth to Kate?”
“I’m just a little gross,” Kate admits, with some embarrassment.
“What! No. You look…” and Yelena pulls her eyes across Kate’s body, sizing her up. “Good. You know, considering.”
Kate flushes and hopes the grime covers it. “I was just hoping to quickly shower, that’s all.”
“Go, shower, Kate Beeshop.” Yelena holds her hands up. “I’m certainly not stopping you. It’s not like you need me to help.”
Help? Kate lets that image flash in her mind for a second before she convinces herself Yelena meant nothing by it. English equals second language, yada-yada. But her mouth moves just slightly ahead of her mind.
“Oh, you don’t know that. Maybe you could be very helpful,” Kate replies, not fully registering what she’s doing.
Yelena grins, her eyes lighting up in a way Kate hadn’t seen before. A new kind of nervousness twangs in her stomach. She steps forward slowly. “How would you want me to help, Kate Beeshop?”
“Oh!” And Kate opens her mouth and starts laughing. Bleating, really.
“Ah! Ha ha!” Yelena starts laughing too.
“Good one,” Kate smiles and points at her. Slowly, she begins to back toward her bathroom, shooting a couple of particularly awkward finger guns. Yelena doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, she gives a little wave, still smiling. Kate starts laughing again. Finally, she makes it to the bathroom, closes the door - a little too hard - and exhales with relief. She looks in the mirror. Her face is red. Her heart is pounding and she doesn’t really know why.
That’s a lie. She does know why. It’s the same reason why she hasn’t locked her windows (and on occasion her front door, stupid, she knows, considering all of the supervillains who are totally out to get her) for the past few months. Sometimes, late at night when an evening breeze rustles her curtains, Kate has let herself imagine that the sound is Yelena skillfully entering through her window and laying on her bed. Kate would ask her what she’s doing and Yelena would say softly with that Russian accent of hers that she looks beautiful in the moonlight before tracing a line along her exposed shoulder with her fingers. She would sit up and Yelena would follow. She would feel the courage she always has -- she would lean forward and kiss her softly. Yelena would pull back and look at her. “Finally,” she would say before moving her hand lower…
Instead of Yelena’s hand on her, she would only feel her own, touching herself at the thought of the other girl touching her. She imagined hand squeezing her breast was Yelenas, in her hair… rubbing her clit in just the right way… The mere thought never failed to get her off quickly and soon she would be spent, gazing at her window now with as much satisfaction as longing.
Madame Masque killing her in her sleep was worth the fantasy.
She showers and she can’t help but think about what Yelena would’ve done if she had “helped.”
She gets out. She reaches for her towel --
Nothing. The hook attached to the door bears no load. She remembers her laundry -- the load currently in the dryer that she meant to grab on her way in, if it hadn’t already been stolen after sitting in the basement for so long. The load that has her bath towel. Her spare is in her closet, in her bedroom -- naturally -- which is about a living room away. A living room with one incredibly attractive and deadly superspy waiting to eat dinner with her. Cool!
Okay. She went to the best schools in the country and could’ve practically tested out of all the classes anyway. You’re smart, Kate. Think, Kate, think!
She tries to dry herself with toilet paper. It turns to tiny little useless wet shreds immediately on impact.
Okay. Plan B. She covers her front-end with one hand. Opens the door slightly with the other and then covers her chest with that arm. “Hey!” she calls out. “Could you grab me a towel? There’s a spare -- she remembers that her room is definitely a mess -- actually a kitchen towel would be great, thank you!”
Yelena appears in front of the door in a flash. “Here,” she says, passing a tiny dish towel through the crack in the door. Kate moves forward to grab it but slides on the puddle of water now amassed on her bath mat-free-floor (another laundry-day-casualty) and before she knows it her elbow is pushing the bathroom door open.
“Oh,” says Yelena.
“Oh my god,” says Kate, trying to cover herself with the comically small dish towel.
Yelena looks down. Laughing a bit, “I’ll geeve you some privacy.”
“Heh. Thanks.”
“You shouldn’t be shy though, you know. You look hot.” Head still lowered, she lifts her gaze up, running her eyes across Kate’s body without shame. She’s not laughing now. There’s a smile on her lips but a seriousness in her eyes that sends a shiver down Kate’s spine. She then turns to give her the aforementioned privacy.
Kate suddenly drops the towel. It was as if her arms were being controlled remotely. But then again, this is the most sure she has felt in awhile. “Then look at me,” she says finally. Yelena turns around, matching her gaze. She looks at her openly now. “Show you mine, you show me yours,” Kate says with a smile and an eye-roll, though she’s never been more serious.
“Okay.” Without any fuss, Yelena tugs her tanktop up and off of her, revealing a practical black sports bra. Her cargo pants are dropped just as swiftly. Kate feels her heart start to beat faster and Yelena, reading the flush entering Kate’s cheeks, decides to play a game. Smiling, she slows down as her hands reach the top of her practical-yet-sleek (and unbearably sexy) black underwear. Kate bites her lip. Yelena tugs down slightly to reveal just-enough.
“Quit teasing,” says Kate.
“You could help me, you know,” returns Yelena. She steps closer to Kate, who’s still lingering in the door frame. Kate pushes her chin up and bridges the gap between them. Kate realizes that this is the closest they’ve ever been when they haven’t been fighting. Yelena’s eyes have a touch of brown in them. And her lips… She lets her gaze trail down her neck and to her shoulders and then to her bra. She looks at those green-brown eyes for any sign of hesitation and when she finds none she gingerly pulls the surprisingly sexy sports bra over the blonde’s head. She can’t help but stare at her perfect tits. Holy shit. Cool, even. When she remembers that her eyes are up there, she finds that Yelena is mirroring her, staring at her body in the same way that she imagines she was gawking at Yelena. Her clear desire is intoxicating. And when Yelena finally returns her gaze, she shoots her another half-smile and tugs down her panties in one swift go. “Now what?” Yelena barely finishes speaking before Kate flies at her, wiping Yelena’s ever-present sly smile from her lips. When the surprise wears off, Yelena deepens the kiss, letting their tongues intertwine (battle for dominance, really).
Yelena grabs Kate’s wrists, elegantly pinning her against the hallway wall before pushing one leg between hers, trapping her against her. Their bare breasts push against each other as Yelena moves her thigh to position it right beneath Kates --
Kate gasps. Yelena trails kisses down her jaw as her thigh grinds into her pussy. “You’re so wet,” Yelena whispers. But Kate won’t let her have all the fun and her years of Karate have so paid off. She twists one hand free from Yelena’s grip which immediately finds the other girl’s warmth. Yelena swears. Kate smiles, “says you.” “Заткнись,” says Yelena roughly before shutting Kate up with another kiss.
Yelena’s newly unoccupied hand replaces her thigh, her fingers picking up the pace and making Kate writhe against her. Their breaths quicken as they both rub each other faster and faster.
Kate is on the edge of climaxing when suddenly Yelena pulls away. Kate whimpers. “Shush,” says Yelena as she crouches to her knees. “I like how loud you are but I’m going to make you louder. Put your leg on my shoulder,” she orders. Kate’s legs feel like Jell-O but she follows the command, exposing her pussy to Yelena’s waiting gaze. “Good girl.” Kate shivers as Yelena starts to bite the inside of her thigh, her breath kissing the exposed areas building aching anticipation. She buries her hands in her loose blonde tresses and she finally hits her mark. Kate cries out, arching her back. Yelena draws one long stripe up her clit with her tongue, tasting her deeply. She looks up at Kate. “You taste so good.”
It doesn’t take long before Kate finishes on Yelena’s face. “Fuck,” she whispers as her legs threaten to give out beneath her. Sensing her exhaustion, Yelena catches her and holds her firmly against her own body. “Tired?” Yelena half-taunts into Kate’s ear.
“Not even close,” says Kate, and with renewed strength she pushes the other girl backwards, into her living room, and finally backing her into the armrest of her extremely lush purple velvet couch.
“End what do you have planned here?” Yelena [insert better word for “smirks” here] before leaning in to Kate in an attempt to pull her into another deep, passionate kiss. But Kate pulls back, keeping their lips just apart, teasing. Yelena can’t help but to protest slightly, but doesn’t get too much of a chance before Kate shoves over over the armrest and onto the couch. Yelena lands with a thud on her back and before she knows it, Kate has gracefully climbed on top of her, straddling her waist. Yelena can feel Kate dripping on her stomach which only makes her more wet.
“You’ll find out,” Kate finally says, reaching her arm just behind her to find Yelena’s pussy. The other girl arches her back beneath her and moves to grab Kate's tits as she starts to grind slightly on top of her. Yelena’s green eyes hold her gaze as she rolls Kate’s nipples between her fingers. Soon her head rolls back in pleasure, her grasp slackening. Kate’s fingers work quickly and sensing that Yelena is close, she pushes a finger inside of her. Yelena cries out. Kate puts a second finger in. Yelena’s hips poke up with Kate’s movements. Her moans grow more frequent. Kate too, as she stokes Yelena’s climax, feels another one of her own build as she rubs her pussy against the other girl’s stomach. “I want to watch you come,” Kate whispers, staring wistfully at Yelena’s face, beautifully contorted with pleasure. Yelena turns her gaze to Kate once more, fire burning behind her eyes as her entire body begins to shake with tension. She cries out one more time, the tension leaving her body in an earth-shaking climax. Kate feels her go slack beneath her and she folds over on top of her to plant a soft kiss on her lips, pushing slightly damp strands of stray hair away from her now-flushed face.
“You did good,” Yelena mumbles, managing a thumbs up. Kate laughs, rolling next to her.
“Yeah,” Kate sighs, happily. “I mean, you too. That was somehow better than I imagined.”
Yelena’s head snaps to her. She smiles devilishly. “You’ve imagined this, Kate Beeshop?”
“Only in, like, a super normal and uncreepy way.”
“Of course,” responds Yelena. “Better than I imagined, too.” She smiles. Kate smiles back.
After a second, Kate teases, “you left the door open, you know. You’re getting careless.”
“I just didn’t want to startle you,” Yelena responds, sleepily.
Kate doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when she wakes up, naked and sprawled across her couch, dawn is creeping in through a now-open window and Yelena is nowhere to be found. A pang of disappointment echoes through her chest but it is quickly settled when her eyes catch something on her kitchen counter. A box of Kraft macaroni with a sticky note on it. Groggily, Kate rises from her velvet bed and pads over to the box. For next time, it reads, with a poorly drawn :) . For next time, Kate thinks and goes back to bed with the window open.
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