Chapter Text
A week, once an unbearably long time, now felt agonizingly short. Kate was determined to make the most of it. Every breath she took reminded her that they were living on borrowed time, the expiration date for their time together drawing ever nearer. In true Kate Bishop fashion, she made a frantic plan.
Having grown up in the city, she made it her quest to show Yelena around as many important spots as humanly possible. This was a responsibility that she took seriously.
On that first perfect morning, Kate had to take a moment to convince herself it was all real, that it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination straight out of her infamous daydreams. That yesterday was real, and the day before that, and really every day since she had met Yelena, who was really, actually in her bed right now.
Morning filtered in through half-drawn curtains, watery sunlight gradually stirring Kate from her sleep. She groaned and turned over before she froze. The arms around her waist felt so natural, as if they were meant to be there, that it took a moment for her sleep-fogged brain to catch up to reality.
Yelena Belova was in her bed, with her arms around Kate. Breath catching in her chest, all Kate could do was stare and convince herself that the most beautiful sight she had ever seen was not a hallucination. Oblivious, Yelena mashed her face into the pillow and grunted, bedsheets twisted around her. Carefully, Kate brushed her tangled mess of hair away from her face. Eyelids fluttering, Yelena stirred and eventually opened bleary eyes.
“What are you looking at?” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. Kate only kissed her in response. Yelena’s skin was cool and sweet. It would have been so easy to waste the morning away like this, tangled in the pale yellow sunlight with no one to answer to. But there was still Kate’s plan, and she was determined to execute it to the letter.
“So, where do you want to go today?” Kate asked.
Yelena smiled. “Surprise me.”
Gleefully, Kate accepted the challenge.
Walking along the High Line seemed to be Yelena’s favourite. Her hand never left Kate’s the entire time, her other hand trailing along to brush snow off the plants as if doing them one small favour. Sparrows fluttered around them, chirping as they hopped from branch to branch. Yelena watched them with a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. Kate paid no mind to the people around them; they may well have been invisible.
“You know, I read that they only built this place because people kept getting run over by trains,” Yelena informed Kate cheerfully. “Seems silly, no?”
“Of course you had to go and ruin it,” Kate sighed. She just gripped Yelena’s hand tighter.
Soon, Kate found that this was a pattern of Yelena’s. When they spent the next morning at the Met, Yelena narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at the artwork.
“I don’t get it,” she would say with a shrug, before moving on to the next piece to give it the same indifferent treatment.
“It’s because of all those concussions. You have no brain cells left to appreciate art!” Kate accused. Yelena just shrugged, accepting the insult.
Maybe it was true, and Yelena had no appreciation for high culture. After all, hockey players were not known for their refined tastes. But what Kate didn’t see was the way Yelena’s expression smoothed and softened when her eyes fell on Kate.
“Why would I want to look at old paintings when I have the most beautiful piece of art in the world right in front of me?” Yelena asked, a cheesy grin taking over her face.
“Ew, Yelena. That was so sweet,” Kate answered, her expression torn between a smile and a scowl. “You’re so gross.”
“Right? Disgusting.” Yelena shuddered. Kate kissed the cheesy smirk right off her face.
Privately, Kate had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t the landmarks Yelena really cared about; it was seeing them with Kate that made all the difference. Yelena giggled when she stared out the windows at the top of the Empire State Building and imitated the pose of the Statue of Liberty with more enthusiasm than accuracy. The brilliant lights of Times Square at night turned her wide eyes into kaleidoscopes as she craned her neck up at them. Kate, having seen it all a million times before, cared only for Yelena’s reactions.
“So, what do you think of New York so far?” Kate asked.
“It is a ridiculous place. Completely ridiculous.”
“Do you like it?”
The corners of Yelena’s eyes crinkled as she answered, “I love it.”
As much as Kate wished for it, they couldn’t spend the entire week blissfully ignoring reality. There were still goodbyes to face. Yelena was not alone; the entire team now had to cope with having their national team essentially disbanded. They had arrived as a unit, but they trickled back one by one. The players would be adrift until they took up their contracts for the following season. Strictly speaking, Yelena had no more obligation to a team that no longer existed, but it wasn’t so easy to shed the responsibility she had gotten used to carrying. She took it upon herself to see each of her teammates off like nothing had changed,
Kate accompanied her, but turned her cheek and didn’t hear much of the conversation that went on between Yelena and her teammates. There were some things that just weren’t her business. She had done enough prying. She offered a smile and a hug to those who wanted them. Others didn’t meet her eyes. Heart twisting, Kate hoped that Clint was right, and that they would all be okay. They deserved that, at least.
When it came time to see Antonia off, Kate was surprised at the tears that welled in her eyes. She wasn’t going alone; she had Lerato at her side, as she did in most things. By now, Kate was familiar with Antonia’s reserved nature, and hardly expected more than a few words from her, if any. So she was startled when Antonia crushed her in an unexpected hug. Breathlessly, Kate laughed as the goalie nearly picked her up off the ground. Damn it, she was stronger than she looked.
“Thank you, Kate,” Antonia said solemnly. It was only three words, but somehow they were enough to capture everything they both wanted to say. Her silvery eyes were clear, and, for the first time, Kate saw something almost like peace within them. Wordlessly, she hugged her back.
“So, Boston, huh?” Yelena asked, when they finally separated.
Antonia shared a look with Lerato. They were the only ones who had ended up on the same team together, and their fortune was not lost on them.
“Maybe we’ll see you out there one day?” Lerato’s voice turned up hopefully.
Yelena grimaced. “God, I hope not. You will destroy me. Go easy, okay?”
The teammates shared a last laugh before they split for good. As the pair walked off towards their terminal, Antonia slipped her arm through Lerato’s, and some of the pressure building in Kate’s chest eased. If there was one thing she knew, it was that those two would take care of eachother, no matter where they went. Still, the pang that hit her in the ribs nearly took her breath away. Damn these stupid hockey players and the way that had crept into Kate’s heart, only to break it as they left.
In their own time, Ingrid and Sonya did the same. Each time, Kate found herself blinking back tears as their murmured thanks surrounded her. She wasn’t quite sure how these people, virtual strangers to her, had come to mean so much to her in such a short time. She could only hope it wouldn’t be the last time for them, either.
“Take care of her for me, alright?” Ingrid murmured. “She needs you.”
“Of course.” Kate meant it.
Ingrid waved farewell. When Kate turned to look at Yelena, her heart dropped to see the silent tears streaming down her face. With murmured apologies, Kate wiped them away with her sleeve. That afternoon, Yelena was subdued and hardly spoke more than a sentence or two at a time. Kate just held her hand as if that would fix things.
Then, so quickly Kate hardly had time to realize it was happening, it was Yelena’s turn.
The drive to the airport was spent in silence, each breath twisting a knife deeper and deeper into Kate’s heart. Her throat ached from the effort of holding back the tears that burned behind her eyes. When she looked over at Yelena, she saw the same desperate uncertainty reflected back at her. No words came to Kate; there was nothing she could say, no platitudes she could muster that would change reality. Instead, she gripped Yelena’s hand tight in hers, and the tremors that ran through her fingers into Yelena’s said everything she needed to.
In the airport lobby, Yelena pulled her in for one last kiss. It was at once desperate and painfully slow, speaking all the words her heart couldn’t find the strength to say. Her lips engraved the moment into Kate’s very being. Kate would have held on forever, if a choked sob didn’t force its way up her throat and force them to break apart.
“I’m going to miss you.” Kate’s voice was so soft, it was barely even a whisper.
Yelena gripped her shoulders. “Listen, Kate. What I said before, I meant it. I don’t know how long, but I can tell you this much. This is not the last time.”
“I know.” Kate had no choice but to believe her.
Kate reached into her bag. She fished around until her fingers brushed against smooth rubber. She gripped it like a lifeline and brought it out into the daylight. Urgently, she pressed it into Yelena’s hands.
Perplexed, Yelena furrowed her brow. “A puck? Why do you have that?”
“It’s the one you gave to me. From that game against Czechia, remember? Antonia scored that goal, and then you-”
“I remember.” Yelena’s voice was impossibly soft. She turned the puck over in her hands, smoothing her thumb over the centre. Her eyes stayed fixed on it, refusing to find Kate’s face. “You kept it?”
“Of course. Good luck charm, you know?” Kate smiled as her voice cracked.
When Yelena finally looked up, her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Kate in a hug so tight she knocked the breath from her lungs. With a wet laugh, Kate gripped her back, like if she just tried hard enough, she could freeze this moment in time and never have to let go. When Yelena buried her face in Kate’s shoulder, her sniffles were muffled by the bunched fabric of Kate’s coat. But Kate heard them. Heart breaking, she kissed the top of Yelena’s head, breathing in the scent of her golden hair.
“Just come back to me, alright? Anytime, anywhere. I’ll be there.”
“I promise,” Yelena whispered back. Her voice wavered, but there was a thread of determination in the words that made Kate’s heart stutter with hope.
They held each other for a long time, neither speaking. They only pulled apart when the last call for boarding sounded. Yelena seemed frozen, content to hold onto Kate even if it meant missing her flight. Gently, Kate extricated herself. Seeing Yelena’s red-rimmed eyes, she could only assume hers looked the same. They both laughed wetly and wiped their faces with their sleeves. With trembling hands, Kate smoothed down Yelena’s hair, whose eyes fluttered shut for just a moment at her touch.
Kate couldn’t remember the exact moment Yelena disappeared from her sight. When she thought back to that day, replaying that moment into infinity, all that stuck out to her was how very green Yelena’s eyes looked when they shone with tears. All she knew was that one second, Yelena was there in her arms, real and solid and perfect. And the next, she was gone, her last words to Kate a murmured promise.
Those words would replay in Kate’s head hundreds of times over the time they were apart. I promise. I promise. I promise.
It was hardly more than a few weeks, but as far as Kate was concerned, it may have been an entire decade. With a piece of her heart halfway across the globe, Kate found herself adapting the best way she knew how.
Never strong with numbers, Kate suddenly became an expert in time zones. The seven hours that separated New York from Moscow were inconsequential to her, at least she tried to pretend so. Automatically, her brain made up the difference, skipping seven hours ahead. She grew accustomed to sending goodnight texts at lunch, and receiving a reply at midnight. When she looked up at the pale midday sky, she could only see the faint glimmer of stars as the sun set over Moscow.
Most nights, she would stay awake well into the night, waiting for Yelena to wake up so they could catch an hour or so of conversation before Kate eventually passed out with her phone in her hand and Yelena’s dark velvet voice in her ears. Just as often, Yelena would scold her in an attempt to force her to sleep, which always had the opposite effect.
Yelena was not innocent herself. Her stories rambled along haphazardly as she told Kate about her day, recalling every little unnecessary detail. Kate loved every second. She relished the comforting rumble of Yelena’s voice as she complained bitterly about one thing or another. Her voice sounded deeper over the phone, and Kate could have sworn her accent grew a little stronger over the time she spent in Moscow. She didn’t bring it up; if she told Yelena, she would surely fix what she saw to be a flaw, but which Kate secretly loved. Whatever it was, Kate was happy just to talk. They talked about anything and everything. Kate told Yelena all about her classes, the deadlines she was drowning in, that one shitty professor who refused to give her an extension, the cute dogs she saw on campus. Yelena, in turn, bemoaned her endless boredom and took gleeful pleasure in sending Kate short messages written in Cyrillic that made her blush when she ran them bashfully through Google Translate.
They talked about everything, in fact, other than the elephant in the room: Yelena’s contract for the upcoming season. As far as Kate knew, Yelena had not yet committed to anything. Usually forthcoming, she was being uncharacteristically tight-lipped.
Yelena had been acting cagy whenever Kate brought up the subject, slipping away like a tricky fish from a hook. For the moment, Kate had resolved to leave it alone, vowing to wait until Yelena herself brought it up, though it was sheer agony. She could see no other way. Yelena could not be made to talk about something she didn’t want to, and Kate didn’t want to make her. When Yelena finally did bring it up on the phone one day, her heart leaped.
“Barton was not lying. I have contract offers all over the world,” Yelena said. As an afterthought, she added, “well, except here, that is.”
“Any news?” Kate didn’t want to say his name. Word of Dreykov had been sparse ever since he had been extradited to Russia. The American legal system had no jurisdiction over a Russian coach and his Russian players, though a small portion of his crimes had been committed on American soil, and so Kate had no choice but to watch him slip away to where not even news of him could reach her. Naturally, the American media had stopped caring about him within the space of a week, if that. It shouldn’t have surprised Kate; she knew all too well the vicious pace of the news cycle, how they chewed up and spat out stories as fast as new ones could take their place. The more shocking and disturbing, the better, of course. But she still felt a vague horror at how quickly everyone had moved on to the next big thing, the next scandal, and left Yelena behind. Now, she was just “that Russian player” and he was just “that Russian coach”. If any news came, Kate feared it would not be the good variety.
“Nothing.” The silence on the other end was tense. Yelena sighed and continued. “Look, you have to be prepared if-”
“I’m not-”
“No, Kate. Listen. I do not know what will happen with the trial. Maybe we will get lucky. But I know how these things go. You really think he will get what he deserves? In Russia?”
The question hung in the air between them. Kate hated that she couldn’t think of a good reason to disagree. Yelena was right. Yelena had already lost one or two of her Russian sponsors, which she pretended didn’t bother her. But Kate knew better. This was Dreykov they were talking about, a top coach for nearly 30 years, his country’s pride, their shining star. Would the courts really deliver justice? Kate had no choice but to hold onto that desperate hope. Her voice was small when she asked, “There’s still a chance, isn’t there?”
“Always.” Kate had the distinct feeling that Yelena was fudging a little, softening the truth to spare her. As if Kate was the one who needed to be shielded, not Yelena herself. “You have a lot of faith, Kate Bishop.”
Kate bristled at Yelena’s chuckle. “Someone has to,” she snapped, a little harsher than she meant to. A prickle of guilt followed immediately after.
“I know. I like that about you.” Yelena’s voice was soft, and Kate could nearly picture the slight smile on her face. “But whatever happens with Coach, I need you to know something. Okay?”
The way Yelena still called him that - Coach - grated on Kate’s nerves. But she knew better than anyone that old habits die hard. She held her tongue. “What?”
“That I am happy. The past is the past. It was ugly, I am not proud of it, but it happened. But now? I will always have hockey. I have Natasha back. And I have you. In the end, if it wasn’t for everything that happened, I would not have met you.” Yelena pulled in a deep breath, and Kate blinked back the heat pricking at the back of her eyes. “So I guess what I am trying to say is, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Kate protested.
“No, I suppose not. But it is what it is. I have a future now. That is what matters to me. Not any of that before. Okay?”
Suddenly, a fierce ache took hold of Kate’s throat. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Right. Yeah. Okay.”
They were silent for a while, before Kate changed the subject. There was one more question weighing heavy on her tongue.
“So, anywhere in the world, huh? Where do you want to go?” Kate asked, trying not to fear the answer.
“Wherever you are.”
The words beat in Kate’s disbelieving ears. She clutched her phone closer, as if that could somehow bring her any nearer to Yelena. She swallowed down the fluttering in her chest. “Are you sure? I mean, this is it for you, Yelena. This is your chance to have anything you want. I don’t want you to make the wrong choice, especially not….” Kate trailed off, the words for me left bouncing around inside her own skull.
“I know what I want. I already signed the contract.”
Kate’s heart skipped a beat. “Which contract?”
“America. One year in New York. I made my choice.”
Kate’s breath left her in a great whoosh. “Wow. That’s great, Yelena. That’s…”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“When’s soon?”
“Does next week work?”
Kate’s heart jumped painfully in her chest. She nodded hard, the phone pressed to her cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, that works.”
“Good. Of course, I still need to work out a place of my own, so-”
The words tumbled out before Kate could stop them. “Just come to my place. We’ll figure it out.”
And they did.
The first thing Yelena did when they reunited at the airport was kiss Kate so fiercely that Kate thought she would stop breathing entirely. The second thing she did was pull that puck from her pocket and press it into Kate’s shaking hands.
“I promised, didn’t I?” she murmured into Kate’s ear. Kate nodded through the tears.
Yelena hardly brought anything with her, aside from her gear and two suitcases. When Kate brought it up, her brow furrowed in concern, Yelena simply shrugged and smiled. “I am starting over, yes?”
Kate found she could not disagree.
The initial week Yelena spent at Kate’s apartment was split between showing Yelena the ropes and christening every solid surface that could support their weight. Truth be told, Kate had never put much heart into the hunt for an apartment for Yelena, and as the week turned into a month turned into two, her efforts grew weaker and weaker until they stopped entirely. If Yelena had any complaints, she didn’t bring them up. There was this unspoken agreement between them, stronger than steel.
They fit into each other’s lives so easily, it was like breathing. Kate soon learned that Yelena was a creature of habit in all things, not only her pre-game rituals. When she wasn’t skating in the morning, Yelena would sleep in, her arms locked around Kate in bed, mumbling and pulling her closer when she shifted. Eventually, Kate would have to pry herself loose and head reluctantly to class, though Yelena’s complaining groans made her contemplate skipping and staying in bed all morning instead. Once or twice, she did. Though, much to her chagrin, she found that she was still very much a university student, and her professors didn’t care if she had the hottest girlfriend under the sun; she still had to hand in her papers. That didn’t seem fair.
Yelena, enjoying her reprieve from hockey, perhaps her first one in all her life, came along with her sometimes. The first time Yelena tagged along to campus, Kate was suddenly reminded of her minor celebrity status when Franny and Greer nearly squealed with excitement and watchful eyes followed her across the quad. Kate hardly noticed; she was too busy looking at Yelena and following her bright gaze as she drank in every detail. Yelena came to love the bustle of campus life, accompanying Kate to her clases, bringing her coffee in the spare minutes between classes, or sitting at her side and looking over her shoulder as she typed up last-minute assignments. Kate always thanked her with a kiss on the cheek and a quick squeeze of her hand. When Kate urged her to stay home and not waste her time, her pleas fell on deaf ears. Yelena simply shrugged and smiled. She claimed she only went for that coffee shop across from the bookstore, which she swore up and down had better coffee than anywhere else in New York. Really, Kate suspected it was the closeness that Yelena craved, that casual everyday familiarity she gained from learning the inner workings of Kate’s world the way that Kate had learned Yelena’s. Kate had no complaints.
Soon, Yelena became something of a fixture, and those who knew Kate came to know her too. Nothing to see here, just the star reporter Kate Bishop and her even more star-studded professional hockey player girlfriend, Yelena Belova. Kate loved every moment.
Even after all this, it wasn’t until one ordinary morning that it really hit Kate. When Yelena slipped inside as she returned from the grocery store, a jug of milk in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, she set her keys down on the counter. Her keys. Her smile was an arrow straight through Kate’s heart.
“Pancakes for dinner tonight?” Yelena offered. Kate agreed wholeheartedly. Never much good at cooking, she returned the favour by washing up and cleaning the kitchen, and, of course, kissing Yelena senseless. Just like that, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova seemed to have acquired a permanent address.
It was good. It was easy. Time slipped through their fingers like silk. Kate was happy to let it pass.
It was a bright cold day in April when Kate found herself back where she started.
Pulling her knees to her chest, Kate huddled on the cold plastic bench. The fleece blanket around her shoulders was a necessity; she had learned that much by now. Her breath curled into the air, twisting towards the rafters where dusty decades-old banners hung. The rink clock in the corner screamed an obnoxious 6:15 am. Naturally, the place was deserted; no one else was crazy enough to be out here at the ass crack of dawn. In so many ways, Kate should have been utterly miserable. In reality, she was anything but. She couldn’t help the smile that brushed over her lips as she leaned forward, bracing her forearms across the bench to look out across the fresh ice. She pulled in a deep breath of that old rink smell which had quickly become one of her favourites.
Like all the times before, Yelena had fiercely insisted that Kate didn’t have to come, even tried to forbid her in a misguided effort for Kate to get more sleep. And, also like all the times before, Kate hadn’t let her get a word in edgewise. That was simply never going to happen. Kate had only regretted her decision for a moment, when her alarm jolted her awake in the pitch darkness of the apartment. She only needed a heartbeat to feel sorry for herself before she was up and pulling on some leggings and a hoodie, pressing a sleepy kiss to Yelena’s hair as she brushed it in the bathroom. The sight of her girlfriend in her bra and boxer shorts was always enough to jolt her into the waking world.
Now, only 30 minutes later, she was glad. There was one thing that made all the yawning and shivering worth it. Watching Yelena skate never got old.
Her speed was breathtaking as she swept from one end of the rink to the other. She had had drills planned that morning, but right now, the stack of pylons she’d brought along remained untouched. Training camp would begin at the end of the summer, but judging by the look on Yelena’s face, that moment was far from her mind. That was months away, and she was here now, with the wind on her face and Kate’s eyes following her as she flew. Cheeks glowing red and eyes shining, she was skating for the pure joy of it, like a kid out on a pond in the dead of winter, freezing her ass off for a taste of freedom. Dressed only in sweatpants and a sweater, she was free of her bulky equipment aside from her helmet and gloves.
Kate, too, had had intentions of working, but her laptop sat abandoned in her bag. The end of the semester was drawing near. But for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, she wasn't behind and scrambling down to the wire. She could afford to take this moment just to breathe and watch.
Kate could not help but marvel at the fluid ease with which Yelena moved. With her, it was never just skating; it was more like dancing to music that no one one else could hear. Every once in a while, Kate thought that maybe she could catch a few notes, but Yelena was the only one who could feel every beat, flow with the rhythm as easily as quicksilver. Most would say she was biased, but Kate doubted she would ever see anyone else move with that kind of grace on the ice. Yelena took what most players viewed as a means to an end and made it into an art on its own, beautiful in its own right. On blades of steel, she was as light as a feather. With that smile on her face, she looked lighter than Kate had ever seen her.
“Maybe you should have been a figure skater instead!” Kate called out.
Yelena skated straight for the bench. Mere feet away, it looked like she was going to crash right over the boards and into Kate. Kate knew better. She didn’t flinch as Yelena stopped in a spray of ice crystals. The breeze touched Kate’s cheeks. Yelena slung an elbow over the bench.
Yelena shrugged. “Maybe. But there is no fighting. No fighting, no point.”
“Spoken like a true hockey player.” Kate rolled her eyes.
She leaned forward and stared across at Yelena. She was the most beautiful like this - cheeks glowing, wisps of hair pulling loose from her ponytail, her breath steaming in the cold air. Kate’s fingers seemed to find their way to Yelena’s sweater on her own, pulling Yelena in for a kiss. A frustrated huff escaped her lips when her forehead bumped against the visor, getting in her way. But Kate Bishop was nothing if not a problem solver. Yelena watched intently as Kate unsnapped the chin strap and gently slipped the helmet off. Her hand glided over Yelena’s helmet hair, smoothing it down.
“That’s better.” Kate brought her lips to Yelena’s, soft and sweet. No, she decided, kissing Yelena Belova would never get old. It was at once exciting and new, patient and steady, so easy that Kate could not or did not want to remember a time before. Just the two of them, alone in the rink at this ungodly hour, everything felt just right. She pulled Yelena closer, breathing her in. A hum vibrated in Yelena’s chest as she smiled against Kate’s lips. When Kate finally pulled away, Yelena was grinning.
“You look good out there,” Kate told her. “You feeling ready for camp?”
Yelena shrugged. “Whatever happens, happens.” But the subtle shake of her shoulders and smile that she tried to fight back told Kate all she needed to know. They both knew it was only a formality. Cocky bastard, Kate thought affectionately.
Her ego didn’t need boosting, but Kate did it anyway. “You’ll do great. You are the best of the best, after all.”
“Puck bunny,” Yelena teased.
A flush crept across Kate’s cold cheeks. “Am not.”
“You know, you could be on the ice today. Lace up those skates, da?”
Kate had held out for all of a week before Yelena had more or less forced her to buy her own pair of skates. There was simply no other option. The store clerk had gone pale and mute as Yelena paced up and down the aisle, taking it upon herself to select the perfect pair. It was settled just like that. One did not simply argue with Yelena Belova, especially not about skates. Still, the skates weren’t quite broken in yet. Kate smiled and shook her head regretfully. “Maybe next time. Wouldn’t want to get in your way.”
“You couldn’t if you tried,” Yelena reassured her.
Kate shrugged. “Next time. And you can hold me to that.”
“I will.” Yelena tilted her head towards Kate’s untouched bag. “No writing this morning either?”
“Nope. Just thinking.”
Yelena’s eyes lit up and she leaned in. “About?”
“You.” A beat, then, “The future.”
That word - future. Truth be told, Kate wasn’t sure exactly where her future was going to take her. In a year, she would be graduating with her degree. Beyond that, the future was hazy, like she was peering into a foggy mirror. But she was starting to get an idea. Before, the uncertainty would have made her gut twist. Now, she felt something different in the pit of her stomach: flutters of excitement. Soon she would be finished school for the semester, and they would face the summer together before her final year would begin and Yelena’s first season in America would kick off. Time stretched out in front of her, a vast expanse of sea. Kate knew that she would have to sail through the changing ocean tides. Now, though, she also knew she was brave enough to do it. There was no fear, only calm certainty and a twinge of anticipation.
There had been many unforgettable moments over the last few months. Watching Yelena win gold that day came to the forefront, of course. Their first kiss on the abandoned ice, and the chaos that followed after. Then there was the day Clint called her and told her that Dreykov had been convicted. It was a far shorter sentence than it should have been, but it was still more than they ever dared to dream of. Kate thought she had been crying even harder than Yelena was when they crushed the breath out of each other in a hug that day. It seemed fitting that it all led back here, to that small run-down rink in New York City, the early morning silence broken only by the familiar song of steel against ice, that sweet music Kate had come to love.
Yelena’s voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to the here and now. "So what's your next story?"
"Next story?"
"You know. Your next big article. The next story!" Yelena’s eyes glimmered.
Kate’s eyes searched Yelena’s. A smile spread. "Next story?" she asked, fondly. "There is no next story, Yelena."
Yelena cocked her head. "Oh? And why is that, Kate Bishop?"
Kate squeezed Yelena’s hand in hers, pulling her closer. Yelena let herself be drawn in. When Kate looked into her eyes, they were clear and earnest. Those keen eyes never left Kate’s face as she leaned forward and touched their foreheads together. The faint tendrils of their breath intertwined.
"Because I'm not done with this one. In fact… we've only just begun."