•{Condemned}• 2

{23}•Relax•

                             [23] •Relax•

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HAVING DRIED her hair, Elena obediently sits on the edge of her bed as Shuri waves three dresses in front of her excitedly. Smiling at her antics, El shrugs. "Honestly, I don't mind. Just pick one."

The Wakandan princess rolls her eyes. "You have to have a preference!" She exclaims in mock annoyance.

She gestures to the black one first. "This is the hot one."

Then to the emerald. "This will bring out your eyes."

Then to the blue. "And this is classy."

Realising they will be sitting there all day if she doesn't pick, El sighs. "The green."

"Emerald," Shuri corrects.

"Whatever."

She accepts the dress before shooting a pointed look at her friend. "I can dress myself you know."

Smirking, her friend strides out of the room. She chews at her lip as the door closes before carefully slipping out of her clothes, leaving them in a bundle on the floor. Her eyes fall onto her visible pelvic bones. She swallows back the thought, pulling the dress over her head and wriggling around until it falls over hips.

She smooths it out, holding it together at the nape of her neck, unable to zip it up herself. She walks over to the mirror, analysing the way it sits on her still thin frame.

The halter neck sits comfortably around her neck, the torso fitted, the end falling looser around her thighs. She hears a knock at the door and calls for her to come in.

"See? I have impeccable taste," Shuri chimes, instinctively moving to zip up the back.

El hums in agreement. "Now, makeup," her friend murmurs.

"Nope!" El holds up her hands. "No, nah, nay, not happening."

The other girl's eyebrows furrow. "Just a little."

"No way. I know I look like shit, but I'm not wearing that stuff. This dress is bad enough. I mean it's beautiful, but it's a lot of effort."

Shuri rolls her eyes, grinning. "Alright. Let's go."

El nods, satisfied. She follows her friend at a carefully slowed pace down the steps and onto the street. Shuri rambled about Tariq and how she would get lost in his deep brown eyes, but El isn't really listening. Instead, her thumbs are tucked into her fists, biting the skin off of her bottom lip.

She wonders if Steve is alright.

She concentrates hard about Bucky's story.

She thinks about her sister.

Maybe this isn't a good idea.

"Come on, Bambi!"

Too late.

Wakanda at night is possibly more surreal at night, the small clearing lit up by a flickering fire in the centre. Nervously, her eyes flit around the large crowd of young people.

And if she didn't feel like she stood out enough, she is the only white girl there.

She visibly cringes. But Shuri takes her hand, pulling her over to a log surrounded by three girls. She focusses on appearing as friendly as humanly possible, which for a trained assassin, is surprisingly hard. So focussed, she doesn't hear their names.

The girl on the left, with dark hair flowing over her shoulders, offers a small, welcoming smile to her. She wonders if Shuri told them about her. She hopes she didn't.

For what seems like a long time, the teen sits on the log beside Shuri while she engages in an enthusiastic conversation with her friends.

"Elena Johnson?"

Her head snaps up at her name. The girl with perfectly curled hair offers her a plastic cup. She can smell the alcohol from her spot. She believes Steve would quite literally kill her.

"No, no, TBI patient here," Shuri interrupts.

El shakes her head, glancing back to the fire. She wouldn't have drank it anyway.

"I'm not a fan of these parties either."

El glances over to the girl beside her, who smiles slightly. El presses her lips in a line. "That obvious?"

She tilts her head, "Yeah."

"I'm not exactly a people person," she admits, tugging at the hem of her dress.

"I get that," the girl agrees tiredly.

"Elena?"

"Here, Shuri," she assures her friend who has whipped her head around.

"Let's go introduce you to Tariq."

"I'm actually pretty tired," Elena tried, getting to her feet.

But Shuri isn't having it, pulling her away from the group over to two boys at the next log. El clenches her jaw, making a mental note to stab Shuri with a non-lethal piece of equipment in the lab. Maybe not stab.

That is the assassin in her.

Maybe shout at.

That sounds more appropriate.

The boy had pretty eyes though, she'd give him that. Shrugging off her annoyance, she returns his warm smile, though hers may have been a little more hostile.

"Tariq," he greets.

"Elena," she nods. She glances over to Shuri, who has conveniently disappeared. "Smooth," she murmurs.

"Yeah, she's good at that," he chuckles.

Elena's cheeks tint pink, not having meant to be heard. He pats the spot beside him and reluctantly, she sits. They fall into silence for a moment before the boy speaks again.

"So are you visiting, or?"

She purses her lips. "It's kind of complicated."

He nods, glancing to his lap. "You look really nice," he compliments sincerely.

Oh god. Here it comes. The awkward teenage boy forced compliments.

She forces a small smile. "Thank you. You clean up well too."

She internally cringes.

She stiffens as he shifts closer to her. "If you're only visiting, then I guess I won't be seeing you again," she says, quieter now.

His hand brushes against her hip softly as he turns, his other cupping her cheek tentatively. Yet, she doesn't pull away. She's frozen in place.

Pull yourself together. Lighten up. Go with it.

His lips press against hers. She allows her mouth to move in sync with his, attempting to relax against his touch.

But she can't relax.

Because she can't help where her mind goes next.

And suddenly, she isn't kissing an innocent kid at a party, she's being held by an all too familiar man.

A HYDRA agent.