Stupid Cupid

None of them had that same sense of good humor Franky had when Kate got caught in that civil suit the time she punched the guy who'd tried to slip her some Rohypnol at an ESU party she was way too young to be at. She doubted even Nelson -- who'd apparently made a run for District Attorney when Kate wasn't looking or legal to vote -- could have made any of this stuff with her mom funny, though.

Things were going to get bad, they had informed her. Real bad.

"Where will you go then?" Yelena asked, setting a plate of toasted breakfast baked goods on Kate's kitchen table. "Back to the farm? Back to Clint Barton? Do you have some thing for him?"

There was clearly an answer the Russian wanted to hear.

"I don't," Kate said evenly. Because it was true. "I don't, but I still don't want to help you in some vendetta against him."

It was hard to see, because Yelena didn't give away much, but Kate could read a girl. She seemed a little relieved. It's why Kate relaxed a bit.

"I have no vendetta," Yelena said. "Not any longer." Kate actually believed her. "But why go back to him? He already has a daughter. You need a father that bad?" That stung. Yelena seemed to be able to tell, because her expression softened. Kate guessed she could read a girl, too. "Sorry to be so blunt, but whoever told you daddy issues were endearing told you a horrible lie."

Kate actually laughed.

"Again, I apologize," the Russian sighed. "They train you for everything in the Red Room except for tact when you're talking to a friend."

"So, we're friends?"

"I would hope more than friends, Kate Bishop," Yelena insisted. "I'm here right now because you and me? I think we're the same. We need partners. I wanted Natasha, you wanted Barton. We both can't have what we want, so why not have what we can get?

"'What we can get'?"

"You and me," Yelena smiled. And it was more than a smile. The Black Widow was beaming. Kate could tell that she actually meant it. "We could be partners."

"Partners?" she said. Kate was surprised to say the least. "W-We barely know each other..."

"I know you, Kate Bishop," Yelena assured her. "Do you really think you don't know me?"

Kate fixed her with the fiercest stare she could muster. "I think I actually might, and I don't think we're a good fit."

And Kate did know Yelena Belova. She hadn't really before, but she did now. Clint Barton had told her he wouldn't tell her any secrets he didn't feel were his to share, but after everything that had happened, he'd told Kate everything he knew about Yelena Belova. A Russian sleeper agent placed in Ohio with a has-been Soviet super-soldier wannabe that never panned out and the last of the best Black Widow scientists. After stealing classified S.H.I.E.L.D. intel, their cover was blown, so the family had fled to Cuba, where they were separated shortly thereafter, resulting in the girls being drafted into the Red Room.

So Kate wasn't too surprised that Yelena could meet her fiercest stare with all the same muster and more. "You're wrong, Kate Bishop," she said. "We are moose and squirrel."

Kate couldn't tell if Yelena was using that right. They really should have watched that stupid cartoon. She couldn't say she was using it wrong, though. The Russian accent was essential. But maybe Rocky and Bullwinkle were supposed to be on the same side?

The Widow stood up from the table. "I have people to meet," she announced. "This lawyer in Clinton Natasha used to know. He might know things about Wilson Fisk..."

"Fisk is dead," Kate said.

"Is he?" Yelena asked.

This was all getting very heavy very fast. Kate had come to this place to hide from things and it had been working until she'd opened that door. She'd escaped her old life while still being home, but now had this dangerous potential new life suddenly thrown at her. One with this woman she couldn't help but like, but felt like she could never really trust. And now that monster who'd ruined her family and probably wanted her dead was maybe alive?

No, this was a game, right? Like tennis but with words. Yelena was messing with her. She had to be.

"You told me you were here to have fun this time," Kate said to her. The Widow had said that, right?

"I am," the Widow replied, throwing on her faux fur coat. "This isn't fun anymore." She was headed for the door, but she wasn't taking anything with her.

"Are you coming back?" Kate asked.

Yelena paused at the door. "Of course, Kate Bishop. This was just our first fight. And I'm not leaving you that crock pot."

Kate glanced at the counter. Son of a bitch, where had that slow cooker come from?

"I don't have a spare set of keys for you or anything," Kate told her, "so if I'm not here when you get back..."

"Please, Kate Bishop," Yelena sighed, jiggling a duplicate set that matched right down to the Stark Expo 2010 keychain. "I can let myself in."

"Obviously." Kate had lost her capacity for surprise. "I was just going to ask you not to sit here in the dark just to startle me."

"No promises," Yelena smiled, closing and locking the door behind her.

Kate wasn't sure why she'd bothered asking. It wasn't like she had anywhere to go. She was on three hours sleep and five hours of vigorous video tennis. Even rooftop archery sounded exhausting.

So she conked out on the couch in the middle of Dog Cops on Mojovision.

MISTAKE THREE: Widow's Kiss

When Kate woke up, somebody had tossed a blanket over her and she could hear a hairdryer running in the bathroom. There was this faint familiar aroma. Like incense or patchouli or something else awful.

"God, I hope that's Yelena," she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She really didn't need any more surprises today.

No such luck. Not exactly. The bathroom door swung open and Yelena strolled out wearing Kate's bathrobe, humming the chorus to "I Can Do This All Day" with the burning butt of a joint perched at the corner of her mouth.

"Have you been smoking pot in my apartment?" Kate asked.

"No, I haven't been 'smoking pot' in your apartment," Yelena informed her. "The word 'pot' implies I'd pollute my body with common dirt weed. This is medical-grade Wakandan-grown cannabis, Kate Bishop. We're talking primo travka. They call this strain Wajane Busu. That's 'Widow's Kiss' here in The States. So you know I had to try it."

"Yelena!"

"What? I'm on vacation!" The Russian plucked the last of the burning blunt from her lips and held it out to Kate. "I'm more or less done. Feel free to kill it."

"No thanks," Kate sighed, taking the joint and stubbing it out in an ashtray she knew hadn't been on the S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue Ikea Ivas coffee table there before. It had a label. Josie's Bar? Where the hell was that?

"Ugh," Yelena groaned, plopping down next to her on the sofa. "A Charlotte right down to the bone." Her freshly blow-dried hair had this messy quality that softened the severe ballerina look. "I hope you're not mad at me anymore, Kate Bishop," she said. "Girlfriends have stupid fights, da?"

"Yeah," Kate nodded. She didn't need to be mad at the Black Widow right then. "Girlfriends have stupid fights."

"Good," Yelena smiled. "The all-American Valentine's Day continues. We're going clubbing, right?"

"Something like that," Kate murmured, getting up off the couch. "I'm gonna take a quick shower, toss on some thick turtleneck and a warm pair of cordies, then maybe we'll go get a hot toddy at a bar or something."

She pulled her duffle from under the bed and started digging through her limited wardrobe, finding that sweater-cordie combo she mentioned. She stripped off her yoga pants before she realized she didn't have her robe. Right. Yelena was wearing it.

"Yes, Kate Bishop," she heard behind her. "I've looked forward to this."

"Whuh-what are you doing in here?" Kate asked. She felt pointedly half-naked in her panties and sports bra. Which was silly. So her legs were bare. Why did that feel like a big deal right then?

"In where?" Yelena asked innocently. "This is all one room."

Maybe Kate's mom had been right about one thing: Kate had never really known what it was like to have nothing, not even privacy.

"I told you," the Russian said, oblivious to Kate's thought, "I'm here for an authentic New York City Valentine's Day like Sex and the City. It's time for the fashion montage where you try on zany outfits and I shake my head 'no' until you get it right."

"No montage necessary," Kate assured her.

"So we're seriously not going to doll ourselves up and hit a trendy New York City nightclub?"

"Not really my scene these days," Kate explained. "And again, you can really just say New York. It's the middle of February. Way too cold for that slinky one-shoulder number with the hip-holes, which I'm pretty sure I left at my mom's place."

"Let me guess... It's purple?"

"I'm just saying, it's freezing out there." It was snowing outside her window as if to illustrate the point. Big white fluffy flakes just like from a movie.

"Right," the blonde agreed. "What would a silly girl from Russia know about cold, da?"

Kate chuckled at that despite everything. It was clearly her nervous tic around the assassin.

"But it's my Sex and the City Valentine's fantasy, Kate Bishop," Yelena begged. "How can we not glam it up to the nines like Carrie Bradshaw and company?"

"Be honest with me," Kate said because she'd had enough. "Have you ever actually even seen an episode of Sex and the City? My roommate was obsessed with it, and I can tell you, they never did holiday episodes. That was strictly a summer series, bro."

The Russian always had these quick rejoinders to Kate's barbs. It was part of what she inexplicably loved about being in a room with her. Not this time, though.

"There wasn't a lot of TV for me growing up after 1995," Yelena admitted reluctantly. "I just guess things out of context sometimes." She looked Kate right in the eyes. "I was saving it to watch with Natasha when we were together again."

Damn. That was good. This wasn't just tennis with words. Kate was playing emotional head games against a Russian chess master. What had Laura suggested? Take Yelena at her word, but be careful? Was that working for her?

"Okay, let's do it," Kate decided. She was going to be a friend. Even if it got her killed. Even if it meant the risk of hypothermia. "Let's hit a club and let some dumb jerks buy us some drinks."

She'd done that last year with Gwen, and it had been a good time. It was strange. Kate suddenly felt like this disdain for Valentine's Day seemed oddly recent. Like she used to almost enjoy it. What could have possibly changed in so short a time? It couldn't be this thing with her mom. Was it something else? Kate just felt so out of it now. Like there was something she was forgetting. Something important. So, yes, she'd decided to go out with Yelena this year. She was sure that'd clear her head. Help her figure out her future.

"Just let me find the warmest, sluttiest outfit I can find, and we'll do this crazy stupid made-up Sex and the City V.D. thing," she said. "Though I'm seeing that as easier said than done. I don't have a lot of sexy lingerie with me..."

And why would she? When she was headed off for Christmas with the Bartons, Kate hadn't packed anything from her personal Victoria's Secret collection. Everything she had to wear now was more for utility than fashion -- though she liked to think the goofy T-shirts accomplished both. Substance over style. That was the Hawkeye way, right?

Again, anything she might actually want to be seen in at a club was in a closet at her childhood bedroom, and she wasn't even sure if she still technically owned any of that anymore. The lawyers made it sound like the feds were days away from seizing everything.

Kate was on this desperate search for the nicest set of undies she might still have left when she felt Yelena's hand on her back. She jumped up, startled.

"You think a sports bra is not sexy, Kate Bishop?" Yelena asked, stepping closer. "Absolutely mistake."

Kate gulped. "So, I'd better take that shower..."

"Oh, right," Yelena mused. "You're going to need your robe back." She unworked the knot of the belt, but Kate closed the short gap between them to stop her.

"No, that's okay," she said. "I'll just change in the bathroom."

"Why so bashful, Kate Bishop? It's just us girls. What's the big deal?"

What was the big deal? Sure, the two of them were both standing there half exposed in skimpy attire leaving little to the imagination, but Kate had been strutting around locker rooms with fellow scantily clad female athletes for the last decade. Why was this any different? More importantly, why did it feel so different?

"What, you never had underwear pillow fights and practiced kissing with girls at boarding school?" Yelena asked with that sly smile. She said it so softly. Everything out of Yelena's mouth was usually so big and brassy, but this? Was it because they were so close to each other?

The accent wasn't goofy or intimidating anymore. It was... sexy.

"Uh, no, n-never," Kate stammered in response.

"Don't lie." Yelena's hands were on Kate's shoulders as she stared up into her eyes. Kate always forgot that Yelena was so much shorter than her. The Black Widow always seemed larger than life. "I'm trained to tell when pretty girls lie to me, Kate Bishop."

"It's just, I mean, I didn't even go to boarding school," Kate said. And it was true. Hawthorne Academy was a private school based in New York. She went home almost every night. And Kate had stopped going to sleepovers exactly when the more daring girls she knew started practicing kissing at those things.

Yelena thought she was pretty?

"Please," the blonde sighed with an eye roll. Yelena had just the bluest eyes. The tiny Russian's hands drifted up toward Kate's neck, and she felt intensely aware how quickly she could die right now. Yelena was just that deadly. Instead, the Widow's soft touch softly slipped down back to Kate's shoulders, then along the fabric of her sports bra. "You're telling me you didn't wear a plaid skirt and jumper vests like that chatty brat on Gilmore Girls?"

It really must have been cold that night, because as Kate watched Yelena's fingertips brush over her nipples, they were violently poking through the lilac-colored cotton of her top. But if it was so cold, why did Kate feel so hot?

Yelena was so close Kate could smell this heady mix of jasmine and cardamom wafting off of her. The Russian had used her body lotion. And there was toasted coconut. She'd used Kate's shampoo, too. The woman could bring an entire late-night infomercial's worth of kitchen appliances, but couldn't bring her own toiletries? Beyond that, there was this eerie heat Yelena seemed to radiate right then. And this enticing scent that had nothing to do with anything pilfered from Kate's bathroom.

"Well, I mean, sure, I went to private school..." Kate conceded to keep herself from moaning as Yelena's fingers played along her collarbone. "And Rory Gilmore had her problems, but I knew a lot of guys like Logan Huntzburger growing up, and they're actually--"

Yelena pushed two fingers to Kate's lips, shushing her. "You have the prettiest mouth, Kate Bishop," she told her. "Fabulous lips. So plumb, so kissable..."

Kate didn't get the chance to nervously thank her for the compliment before Yelena was proving her point, kissing her. Kate tensed up, gasping in surprise, which just opened the door for this soft tongue to dart into her mouth, dancing briefly with hers.

Kate pushed her back. "Could we...?" She was starting a sentence she had no idea how to finish. And it end in a stupid question mark.

"And I love these chipmunk cheeks," the Russian smiled, before kissing Kate just beneath her left eye.

"Chipmunk" cheeks? Kate thought. No, I'm squirrelly... Or am I the moose? Maybe if they'd just watched that dumb cartoon, Yelena wouldn't be kissing her chin, now her neck. The blonde swept Kate's hair behind her shoulder and Kate found herself tilting her head without thinking, giving her better access.

"You don't want to fight me, Kate Bishop?" the Widow whispered, her lips caressing Kate's ear. Kate had never realized how sensitive her ears could be until Yelena demonstrated that very point with her lips.

"Do--Do you mean that you... you... you want to spar?" Kate asked her, pretending like this wasn't happening even as Yelena was kissing her cheek. She had decided to play dumb. Playing dumb got Kate out of so many jams. Maybe it could get her out of this. Whatever this was. "W-We could do that instead..."

"Bozhe moi, Kate Bishop," Yelena muttered, between these brief heady pecks on her lips. "So many silly misconceptions floating around that pretty little head."

"Wuh-what do you mean?" Kate could feel herself blushing.

Yelena's answer was to step back and open her robe -- well, Kate's robe -- and drop it to the floor.

Yelena was smaller than Kate, but her breasts looked bigger. These plump little handfuls that fit the blonde Russian just perfectly. Kate had watched them bouncing around in her skimpy little tourist top all day while they played imaginary tennis. But she hadn't thought about what they'd actually look like. Of course not. Kate wasn't like that. But she certainly hadn't expected to see the little red barbell pierced through Yelena's left nipple. And she certainly didn't think the first thought she'd have when she saw something like that was that it was so fucking hot. Kate's gaze dropped down Yelena's tight little body to the bare, hairless juncture between her supple thighs.

Oh my god, Kate thought. This is what Black Widows do! Seduction and murder! It's right there in the name!

She needed to stop this, but couldn't quite reason why. The Black Widow was dangerous. That's why Kate had let this much happen. She was scared. Scared, not turned on. And if she did feel herself getting wet, she was just wet with terror. It wasn't titillation.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it," Kate begged, backing away as Yelena strode toward her. "Please don't fuck with my head first."

"I don't want to fuck with your head, I assure you," Yelena said, sitting Kate down on the edge of her tiny twin bed before prying her legs open as she knelt between them. "Why are you so afraid of me, Kate Bishop?" Yelena laid this sweet wet kiss just north of her belly button and Kate shuddered all over, falling onto her back. It got worse when Yelena kissed her again, even lower, but Kate still wanted to answer the question.

"The f-first time we met, yuh-you p-pointed a gun at my head," Kate stammered before the Widow's hands slipped up Kate's thighs to her hips and she finally let out that moan she'd been fighting to hold in.

"No," Yelena said as deft little fingers with black nail polish worked along the elastic hem of Kate's boy shorts and tugged. "The first time we met, I yanked on a zipline so you didn't splatter this fabulous ass of yours all over Grove Avenue." Yelena kissed Kate's belly again, just where her newly lowered panties sat at the edge of her pubic hair. "Then I pointed a gun at your head." Yelena bit into the hemline so she could pull them down Kate's thighs with her teeth.

"Um, wait," Kate said, trying to clamp her thighs shut in protest with her legs akimbo. But that just made it easier for Yelena to slide her underwear down to her knees.

Oh, God. Was that what Kate had wanted?

Everything else had been this slow tease, but this was just so deliberate. Almost aggressive. Like, boy aggressive.

"You're groomed, Kate Bishop," Yelena observed. "Did you intend the arrowhead? Really?"