Chapter 1: Something Like Home
Chapter Text
Kate’s apartment is still a wreck.
Yelena notices immediately, even in the fading light. The paint along the entry wall is blistered in one corner from where the fire had briefly caught, and there’s still a crack through the kitchen tile from where the ceiling shook loose after that mini bomb went off back when Yelena saved Kate from a gas bomb.
Kate's keys jingle nervously in her hand as she pushes the door open. “Okay. So. Don’t panic.”
Yelena tilts her head, completely unfazed. “Why would I panic?”
Kate steps in and waves her arm dramatically. “Welcome to my extremely stylish, mildly bombed, entirely too small New York apartment. Watch your step. And maybe don’t look directly at the scorch mark on the bookshelf unless you’re ready to relive a lot of trauma.”
Yelena follows her inside, eyes scanning over the apartment, she has been there before, couple times, she has a gentle amusement on her face. Her boots click lightly against the warped floorboard just inside the living room.
“Very charming,” she says dryly.
“I know it’s not great,” Kate huffs, tossing her jacket onto the arm of the couch. “But the important stuff works. I think. The water’s hot, the coffee machine still turns on, and only one of the windows doesn’t shut properly.”
Yelena pokes said window and it gives a sad rattle.
Kate winces. “I’m getting that fixed.”
She moves around the space with this nervous energy, flipping light switches, straightening things that don’t need straightening. Her voice is a little too chipper as she points things out.
“So! Bathroom’s here. Spare toothbrush already in the drawer. You can use my shampoo, it smells like coconut, which you said you liked in that totally casual conversation I definitely didn’t remember for no reason.”
Yelena raises an eyebrow, but Kate keeps going.
“Closet’s mostly empty. I shoved all my mess under the bed, so if it looks clean, it’s a lie. But it’s your space, if you want it. I mean. If you’re comfortable. Just for now. Or longer. Whatever. We've been living in the avengers headquarters and I wanted to come back home and i know that you don't have a permanent home in New York, and I was thinking maybe this could-”
She stops talking and she also stops in the middle of the living room, finally out of things to show off, and runs a hand through her hair. Her voice softens, finally losing that flirty shell.
“I know it’s not much. Not after everything. Not compared to the safehouse, or god for all I know, the Red Room had better drywall.”
Yelena smiles a little at that.
Kate shrugs. “But I just thought, maybe you could stay. For now. Or for a while. Or forever. If you liked it.”
Yelena steps closer, quiet. “You do know that I’ve been here before right?” There’s a tiny nod, and the she asks “You want me to like your apartment?”
Kate laughs, too quickly. “Well yeah, I want you to like it, but, no, it’s not just that. I...” She trails off, then bites her lip.
“I want you to like what it could be,” she finishes. “Not just the apartment. The life. Here. With me. I know it’s not perfect. But it’s mine. And I’d really like it to be yours too.”
The silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable. Yelena looks around again, at the mismatched dishes in the sink, the half burned curtain in the corner, the photo of Kate and Clint crooked on the fridge.
And then she looks at Kate. At her flushed cheeks and rambling nerves and wideopen vulnerability. “You think I care about drywall?” Yelena says, voice almost incredulous.
Kate blinks. “I mean, I didn’t think you cared, but I thought—” Yelena steps in close enough to kiss her. Doesn’t. Just holds her gaze. “I’ve lived in closets. In barracks. In rooms with no heat. Stayed in gilded palaces and underground bunkers. Had houses that weren’t homes, and missions pretending to be one.” She reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind Kate’s ear.
“This? It smells like you. There’s dog hair on the couch pillow. There’s dent in the wall, I know you caused, cause you can’t hang shelves to save life.”
Kate grins sheepishly. “That’s accurate.”
Yelena leans in and finally kisses her, soft, grounding. When she pulls back, she presses her forehead to Kate’s and whispers, “I don’t care where we are. If you’re here, I’m home.”
Kate exhales shakily. “You’re kind of ruining me.”
Yelena grins. “You like it.”
“I do.”
They stand there, breathing the same air, eyes locked, surrounded by the quiet hum of a battered apartment and the weight of everything they’ve been through. Kate’s breath fans against Yelena’s jaw. Her hands are resting lightly on Yelena’s waist, gentle, unassuming, but grounding her more than any tactical grip ever could. The air between them is warmer than it should be, charged with something that hums in their shared silence.
Yelena speaks first, voice soft and dry with amusement. “You look nervous.”
Kate tries to play it off with a breathy laugh, but her thumb’s rubbing over Yelena’s side in a loop that gives her away. “Is it that obvious?”
Yelena tilts her head. “You keep looking me, like I might vanish.”
Kate meets her eyes, her own voice suddenly, more, raw. “Because it kind of feels like you could.”
Yelena frowns, but gently. “Kate,”
“I’m not saying you will,” she clarifies quickly, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I just, I’ve spent so long wanting this, without letting myself want it. Now it’s here and I just, what if I mess it up?”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
Yelena closes the space between them. Her hands rise slowly to frame Kate’s face, holding her there, not tight, not possessive, just present. Her thumbs brush against Kate’s cheeks, and she looks at her like she’s seeing through every single mask Kate’s ever worn.
“You’ve already saved me,” Yelena says, steady. “You’ve already changed everything.”
Kate blinks back sudden tears. “Yelena.”
“Again, I’m not here because of apartment. Or safety. Or the fact that Lucky likes me better than you.”
That gets a small laugh.
“I’m here,” Yelena continues, “because the worst parts of me still trust you. And the best parts of me love you.”
Kate’s breath stutters. “Say that again.”
Yelena leans in, forehead brushing hers. “I love you.”
It’s not a whisper. It’s not a declaration. It’s not something loud or performative.
It’s just true.
And it settles into Kate’s bones like the final puzzle piece. Because it feels different when you can breathe normally and not like someone else is breathing behind your back making yours ragged.
She lets out a laugh that turns into a shaky exhale, and then she’s kissing Yelena, not with urgency, not with heat, but with that quiet, sacred kind of reverence that only comes once you’ve stripped away every single reason to pretend.
The kiss deepens slowly, like they’re letting themselves learn each other all over again, this time without an audience, without a mission, without fear.
Kate’s heart stumbles over itself. She pulls Yelena in again, and this time there’s more need, more heat, more weight behind it.
Yelena walks her backward toward the bedroom, hands roaming over bare arms, up her spine, slipping beneath her shirt. Kate’s skin tingles where she touches, light, purposeful, claiming without force.
They pause at the edge of the bed, breathing each other in. Kate’s shirt is halfway off, her chest rising and falling like she just ran a marathon.
Yelena reaches for the hem. “Can I take this off?”
Kate nods, but then grabs Yelena’s wrist and adds, “Only if you kiss me after.”
Yelena smirks. “Bossy.”
Kate shrugs, voice teasing but shaking underneath. “You like it.”
And then the shirt’s gone, and the kiss that follows is deep, dizzying, and very real. Kate’s shirt hits the floor with a quiet flutter, and the air between them changes.
Yelena’s hands roam slowly, reverently, over ribs, waist, the curve of Kate’s spine. She kisses her again, not urgently, but with such purpose that it steals the breath right from Kate’s lungs.
Kate’s fingers slide beneath Yelena’s tank top, and when their skin meets fully, something settles in her chest. Not fear. Not adrenaline.
Peace.
Yelena pulls back just enough to look at her. “You sure?”
Kate answers by kissing her and with a really impressive and bold move, takes Yelena’s hand and guides it under her panties. “Feel that? That’s how sure.”
They undress each other slowly, peeling back layers, Kate’s jeans, Yelena’s tank, soft cotton underwear, and by the time they’re skin to skin, the tension is less heat and more gravity. Inevitable. Unstoppable.
Yelena eases Kate onto the bed, crawling over her with a quiet, predatory grace that makes Kate’s breath hitch. She braces herself over Kate with one arm, the other trailing a line down her torso, from collarbone to sternum to the soft spot just above her navel.
“You’re staring,” Kate whispers.
Yelena’s voice is low, rough. “I’m memorizing. The first time was bit rushed, we now have time,”
Her mouth follows the same path, slow, open mouthed kisses down Kate’s chest, sucking lightly at a nipple until Kate arches, then lower, tongue tracing along her ribs like a map.
Kate moans softly, her hands threading into Yelena’s hair. “You’re killing me.”
“No,” Yelena murmurs, kissing just above her hipbone. “I’m worshipping you.”
When Yelena finally touches her, hand slipping between her thighs, thumb brushing slow, teasing circles, Kate’s hips jerk upward with a gasp. Her whole body feels open, like every nerve is tuned to Yelena’s touch and nothing else.
Yelena watches her the whole time. Watches the way her lips part, the way her back arches, the way her eyes flutter shut and her fingers curl in the sheets.
Kate bites her lip. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t.”
“I won’t.” Yelena lowers her mouth, replacing her fingers with her tongue, and Kate’s gasp turns into a long, low moan that echoes in the room.
It’s gentle. It’s overwhelming. It’s heaven sent. Kate feels like she’s burning from the inside out. And when she comes, trembling, breathless, hand gripping the back of Yelena’s neck, it’s with a sound that doesn’t even feel like hers.
It’s too raw, and real.
She barely has time to catch her breath before Yelena is kissing her again, deep and slow, letting her ride the aftershocks until Kate’s arms wrap around her and pull her close.
They shift, laughing quietly as they rearrange themselves. Yelena lies on her back now, and Kate props herself on one elbow, trailing her fingers over Yelena’s stomach.
“You okay?” she asks, soft.
Yelena nods, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You wrecked me.”
Kate smiles, a little smug. “Payback’s next.”
And then she shifts downward, kissing her way slowly across Yelena’s chest, her stomach, down to the soft crease of her thigh. Her hand slides between Yelena’s legs, already slick with want, and Yelena sucks in a sharp breath, hips rising into her touch.
Kate doesn’t rush. Every sound Yelena makes, every gasp and shudder, is burned into her. She moves with careful, confident rhythm, learning what makes Yelena shake, what makes her moan, what finally makes her say, through gritted teeth and gasping breath:
“Kate, I’m-”
Kate kisses the inside of her thigh. “I’ve got you.”
And she does. She always does. She bites now and it makes Yelena come hard, her hands tangled in Kate’s hair, head thrown back against the pillow, a low curse in Russian falling from her lips.
When it’s over, Kate crawls back up and settles against her, tucking herself into the curve of Yelena’s side like it’s always been meant for her.
Neither of them speaks for a long while.
Afterward, they lie tangled together.
Yelena props herself on one elbow and strokes Kate’s side slowly, up and down. “Do you know what this is?”
Kate blinks at her. “What?”
Yelena leans down, kisses her belly. Then her chest. Then her mouth.
"Home."
Later, Yelena slips one of Kate’s t-shirts over her head. It’s oversized and worn and smells like vanilla.
Kate grins from the bed. “You’re wearing that to seduce me again, aren’t you?”
Yelena climbs back in, pinning her down with a look. “Always.”
Kate laughs into her kiss.
And this time, when they fall asleep curled together beneath the broken ceiling fan and the half-burned curtains and the creaky floorboards.
It’s not temporary.
It’s not pretend.
It’s home.
Chapter 2: A Place to Land
Notes:
Barton Farm
Rated M
Chapter Text
The Barton farm sits quiet under a fading golden sky. Late summer has stretched its fingers across the field, turning the edges of the grass dry and sun bleached, buzzing faintly with cicadas. Kate rests her chin on her hand, elbow propped against the truck’s window, watching the weathered house grow closer through the dust and sun glare.
Yelena, beside her in the driver’s seat, doesn’t speak. She’s been quiet since they crossed the county line.
"You okay?" Kate asks gently.
Yelena shifts gears without looking at her. “Fine.”
Kate doesn't press. She knows that tone, the tightness beneath it. It’s not anger. It’s preparation. Like Yelena’s winding a spring inside herself so tight it might snap.
They’d been invited officially. Clint’s idea. After the mess with Sasha, the destruction of the safehouse, and nearly losing each other, he'd extended the offer like an olive branch...though a wary one.
“You should come out here,” he’d said over the comms. “You two deserve some peace. And I figured we should talk.”
Kate had been thrilled.
Yelena hadn’t.
The truck crunches into the gravel driveway, sending chickens scattering. The porch door swings open, and Clint steps out in a flannel shirt and jeans, a towel slung over his shoulder like he just finished doing the dishes. His stance is relaxed, but his eyes flick to Yelena first, unreadable.
Laura comes out behind him, smiling warmly. "Hey, girls!"
Kate hops out quickly, already waving. “Hi! Thanks again for…”
Yelena takes her time. Pulls the keys from the ignition, slow and steady. When she climbs out, she’s expressionless. Her hands stay in her jacket pockets.
Clint extends a hand. “Yelena.”
She takes it. Brief shake. No smile.
“Thanks for not bringing any explosives,” he says, dry.
“No promises,” she replies.
They both blink.
Laura breaks the silence with a cheerful, “Come in, dinner’s almost done!”
Inside, the house smells like roast chicken and rosemary. There are kids’ drawings pinned to the fridge, and a baseball bat propped up in the corner by the back door. It’s so, normal. Kate feels something in her chest tug hard at the familiarity of it.
Lila emerges from the hallway, eyes locking immediately on Yelena. Not hostile. Just watchful.
“You’re the Russian, right?” she asks, bold as ever.
Yelena tilts her head. “You’re the one with the bow.”
Lila shrugs. “Dad says you used to be scary.”
Yelena raises an eyebrow. “And now?”
Lila gives a half smirk. “Still scary. But you brought my favorite archer, so you’re okay for now.”
Kate pretends not to blush. Clint clears his throat.
“Why don’t you two get settled in the guest room?” Laura offers.
The guest room is small but cozy. One bed, old quilt, soft lighting. There’s a photo of the whole Barton family on the wall beside a cracked window that smells like lavender and dust.
Kate drops her bag at the foot of the bed, watching Yelena linger near the dresser, still not saying much.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Yelena doesn’t answer right away. But when she does, it's with strain in her voice, “It’s strange. Being here.”
Kate crosses the room slowly. “Because of Clint?”
Yelena nods once. “Because of everything.”
Kate places her hand on her back. Warm. Grounding. “We don’t have to prove anything. We’re just visiting.”
Yelena exhales. “I’m not used to visiting places like this.”
“Places like what?”
Yelena looks around. “Safe ones.”
They rejoin the family for dinner just as Laura finishes slicing the bread. Clint sits at the head of the table, arms crossed. Nate is next to him, drawing something with crayons. Cooper and Lila are in a mock debate over the best way to take down a rogue alien.
Kate fits right in.
Yelena tries.
She listens, nods politely, even compliments the potatoes. But her jaw’s a little too tight, her eyes flick a little too often to Clint.
The elephant in the room is huge and Russian and quiet.
Kate watches all of it. She knows the conversation is coming.
And she's not sure either of them are ready.
Dinner ends quietly, pleasant even, by normal standards. But Kate can feel it. That tight little string of discomfort stretched between Clint and Yelena. It’s not open hostility, but it hums low in the air. Coiled. Waiting.
After helping Laura with the dishes (Yelena quietly dried every plate like it was a delicate weapon), Kate and Yelena step outside into the dusk to walk the perimeter of the barn.
"You’re wound up," Kate says softly.
Yelena keeps walking, boots crunching on dried hay and dirt. "I don’t like being watched."
"Clint watches everyone. It's not personal."
"It is," Yelena replies, turning to her. “Because of her.”
Kate knows who she means. She takes Yelena’s hand and doesn’t let go, even when she stiffens at the gesture.
"You don’t have to be her," Kate says. “He doesn’t expect that.”
“No,” Yelena murmurs. “But he sees her when he sees me. And I see her when I see him. That’s harder.”
Back inside, Lila’s roped Kate into helping her test out a homemade arrow trap designed to catch her brothers sneaking into her room. Kate, naturally, is delighted.
Yelena watches them from the hallway. She sees the way Kate laughs with the kids. How easy it is for her to slip into their rhythm. Like this isn’t a farm full of ghosts and old grudges but a place where people belong.
Yelena doesn’t feel that. She’s perched in a place that wasn’t made for her. She goes to the porch, sits on the step, and watches the sky darken.
Clint finds her there.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just lowers himself onto the rail post, arms resting on his knees, the familiar creak of old wood between them.
“You’re quiet,” he says finally. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you off-mission.”
Yelena doesn’t look at him. “You didn’t invite me.”
“No,” Clint admits. “I didn’t.”
Silence again.
Then Yelena says, “I’m not pretending with her. In case you were wondering.”
Clint turns. His voice is calm, but serious. “I know that now.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t.” A beat. “But it wasn’t just about pretending. It’s because I’m the one who lived.”
Yelena doesn’t deny it.
She gets up then, pacing to the edge of the porch. Her voice breaks, just a little. “I miss her.”
Clint’s jaw clenches. “Me too.”
“She was all I had,” Yelena says. “And then I had to pretend she wasn’t gone. And when I stopped pretending, when I started to live again, it was with Kate.”
Clint’s voice is low. “She’s a good one.”
Yelena nods, still staring at the trees. “She’s more than that. She makes me want things I thought I couldn’t have.”
“And that scares you.”
“Yes.”
Clint exhales through his nose. “It should. Love’s the scariest thing we’ve got.”
They sit in silence again. Then Clint says, quietly, “She makes you better.”
Yelena turns.
Clint shrugs. “And you make her stronger. That’s enough for me.”
Yelena doesn’t cry. But her fingers curl into the porch railing like she wants to hold something steady.
Inside, Kate catches Clint’s eyes across the kitchen later. He nods toward the porch.
“She’s still out there?”
“She’s breathing,” Clint replies.
Kate waits.
Then he adds, “She’s not Natasha. But she’s not trying to be. That matters.”
Kate smiles, soft. “She’s Yelena.”
Clint nods. “And that might just be enough.”
Yelena stays on the porch long after Clint goes inside.
She sits with her knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them, eyes scanning the dark treetops like they’re trying to tell her something. The moon is low and heavy in the sky, casting long shadows over the field. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Like the kind that makes her want to pace or pick a fight or run.
She doesn’t hear the door creak open behind her, but she feels Kate’s presence before she says a word.
Kate walks barefoot across the planks and lowers herself beside her, mirroring her pose knees up, arms around them.
They sit in silence for a few long beats. “How’s the air out here?” Kate asks softly.
“Still breathable,” Yelena murmurs.
Kate bumps her knee gently. “You okay?”
Yelena shrugs. The breeze shifts. Yelena eventually says, “He still sees her when he looks at me.”
Kate turns her head. “I think he sees her everywhere. That’s what grief does. But he sees you now too.”
Yelena’s fingers pick at a loose thread in her sleeve. “I don’t know how to be in a place like this,” she says. “This farm. This peace. I don’t know how to breathe here and not wait for something to go wrong.”
Kate watches her carefully, heart tight. “You know, that’s okay. You don’t have to know. Not yet.”
Yelena finally looks at her.
Kate continues, “You just have to want it. And let yourself have it. Even if it takes time.”
The thread Yelena was tugging snaps. Kate reaches over and takes her hand gently, lacing their fingers together. “This place it’s weird. Warm. Loud. Full of ghosts. But I like it. I like you in it.”
“I’m not good at soft things.”
Kate leans in, presses her forehead to Yelena’s temple. “I’ve seen how you talk to Nate when he shows you his drawings. I’ve seen the way you dried dishes with Laura like it was a tactical maneuver.” Yelena huffs a laugh, short and surprised.
Kate adds, “And I saw you with Clint. That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t.”
“But you did it anyway. That’s the softest, bravest thing I’ve seen in a while.”
Yelena turns her face slightly. Just enough for their noses to brush. Kate whispers, “You don’t have to be perfect, Yelena. Just be here.”
Yelena kisses her then, quiet, slow, a release and a promise. When they pull apart, Yelena whispers, “Stay out here with me?”
Kate nods, tugging her down until they’re lying on the porch, wrapped in each other beneath the stars.
They wake to birdsong and the smell of fresh bread.
Kate stretches against Yelena’s side, still half-tangled in last night’s flannel shirt and memories. When she blinks awake, the porch is bathed in soft morning gold, and Yelena’s hand is warm against her ribs, fingers twitching lightly like she’s dreaming of holding a knife.
Kate watches her a moment longer, until she stirs, opens her eyes, and blinks blearily at the sky.
“Did we sleep outside?” Yelena mutters.
Kate smiles. “You’re very charming when you’re half-feral.”
Yelena groans and drops her arm over her face.
Inside, the house is alive.
Laura’s making pancakes. Nate is building a fort. Clint sits at the table reading the paper, sipping coffee like it’s his religion. When Kate enters, he glances up and nods. No teasing. No judgment.
Yelena follows a few minutes later, hair mussed, eyes still guarded, but softer now.
Clint watches the two of them move around the kitchen together, wordlessly handing off plates and mugs, finishing each other’s gestures. And when Kate bumps into Yelena and says, “Sorry, babe,” and Yelena just quirks an eyebrow like of course you are, Clint finally speaks.
“You two,” he says, voice even, “make more sense than I thought you would.”
Kate pauses mid-pour. Yelena freezes with the jam.
Clint meets their eyes. “Don’t screw it up.”
Kate grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Yelena mutters, “Too late, we already did. Multiple times.” He chuckles. And it’s real.
Later, Kate finds him out by the woodpile, stacking logs.
She joins him, takes a seat on the stump beside him, and for a while, they don’t speak.
“I want this,” she says quietly.
Clint looks at her. “The peace?”
“The mess. The kids. The quiet inbetween. I want the chance to choose that someday. With her.”
Clint nods slowly.
“You can,” he says. “Just know it doesn’t come easy. And sometimes it doesn’t come fast. But if it’s her, I think it’s worth it.”
Kate’s throat tightens. “Yeah. I think so too.”
They leave late that afternoon.
Laura hugs them both. Nate makes Yelena promise to come back and teach him Russian swear words (Kate glares). Clint clasps Yelena’s hand a little tighter than expected and says, “You ever need backup, you know where I am.”
Yelena nods, something unspoken moving behind her eyes.
In the truck, Kate watches the farm disappear behind them. Wind in her hair, sun setting over the hills.
Yelena’s hand finds hers on the console.
Kate turns to her and smiles. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”
Yelena glances over, squeezes her hand once. “Yeah. Because we choose to be.”
It’s past midnight by the time they get back to Kate’s apartment.
The lights are off. The city hums faintly outside the window, comforting, familiar chaos. It feels like coming home and exhaling all at once.
They don’t even bother to unpack.
Kate drops her bag in the hallway, kicks off her shoes with a sigh, and starts pulling off her jacket before the door even closes. “I swear if I smell hay or roasted squash ever again—”
Yelena grabs her by the waist and pins her to the wall.
Kate gasps, surprised, but not displeased.
“Oh,” she breathes, already grinning. “We’re doing this now?”
Yelena’s lips are on hers before she can finish the thought.
It’s not soft. It’s needy, all teeth and hands, mouths open and hungry, chasing the kind of comfort that only comes when the masks are off and the stakes are quiet.
Kate moans when Yelena presses closer, thigh sliding between hers, one hand already slipping under the hem of her shirt.
“Someone missed me,” Kate teases between kisses.
Yelena growls softly. “You have no idea.”
The coiled tension they’d been holding onto all weekend, the porch confessions, the soft glances across the Barton family dinner table, the restraint, it just finally snaps.
She groans, one hand gripping Yelena’s hoodie, the other blindly feeling for support behind her cabinet, wall, anything to ground her.
But Yelena doesn’t give her time to orient herself.
She kisses with a purpose, hot, consuming, relentless. Her hands slide beneath Kate’s shirt, rough palms trailing over flushed skin, gripping her waist like she’s something precious and breakable.
Kate gasps as her back arches into her. “Yelena..."
“No talking,” Yelena growls against her mouth, voice low and wrecked. “You’ve been teasing me all weekend.”
Kate breathes a half-laugh, cocky and breathless. “Teasing? I barely touched you.”
“Exactly,” Yelena mutters, and lifts her.
Kate yelps as her legs are wrapped around Yelena’s waist, but she doesn’t protest just tugs on her hair and leans in for another kiss, this one dirtier, slower, tongue curling with hers like she’s claiming her again.
By the time they make it to the bedroom, Kate’s shirt is gone, her bra somewhere on the floor. Yelena lays her down like something holy, hovering over her for a moment with wild eyes and parted lips, her chest heaving.
Kate looks up at her flushed and already trembling beneath the weight of that stare.
“Take it,” Kate whispers, and she means all of it. “I’m yours.”
Yelena lets out a sound halfway between a moan and a curse and finally, finally kisses her like she means to burn it in.
Yelena moves lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses across her ribs, her hips, the inside of her thigh. Every inch of skin she touches leaves Kate gasping, desperate, undone.
When Yelena’s tongue replaces her fingers, Kate cries out, sharp and shocked, arching off the bed. She’s so wet it’s obscene, hips grinding up as Yelena licks into her like a woman starved, like she’s trying to memorize the taste.
Kate chants her name like a prayer, like a curse, like something holy.
Yelena doesn't stop, doesn’t need to stop, until Kate is clutching the sheets, thighs trembling, voice cracking on her second climax, then a third, her body practically writhing beneath her.
When she’s finally still, gasping for air, sweat-slicked and wrecked, Yelena crawls back up her body, leaving lazy kisses along her shoulder and neck.
Kate cups her face, thumb brushing over her bottom lip, dazed. “Jesus.”
Yelena smirks, flushed and smug. “Still want that future?”
Kate pulls her into a kiss that says everything, yes, yes, yes.
Then she flips them over.
Yelena’s surprised laugh turns into a moan as Kate straddles her hips, dragging her nails down her stomach. “My turn,” Kate says, voice low and dark with promise. “And I don’t plan on being gentle.”
They don’t sleep for hours.
Not until every bruise, every scar, every promise has been kissed into place.
And when they do, finally, entwined, bare, hearts beating in sync, Kate whispers into the curve of Yelena’s shoulder:
“I want to come home to you. Always.”
Yelena, half-asleep and still breathless, replies without hesitation:
“You already do.”
Exatal on Chapter 1 Wed 20 Aug 2025 03:34AM UTC
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SeekerSunhawkSupercorp on Chapter 1 Wed 20 Aug 2025 05:32AM UTC
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SeekerSunhawkSupercorp on Chapter 2 Fri 05 Sep 2025 06:13PM UTC
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