Multi-fandom Oneshots

More Than A Favor {Yelena Belova}

*Don't read unless you've seen the Black Widow movie*

Denmark

You wipe the blood off your face,  grimacing at the red that covered your fingertips. You wipe it on your  pants, not caring if it stained. Stained anymore, that is.

You  flatten your back against the building, peering out and looking for any  more men in black and orange jackets. When you gave the all clear, you  swiftly moved out onto the road.

With your heels clicking briskly along the cobblestone road, you walk up to the apartment Rick Mason has secured for you.

"Hey,  Bernie," you say, smiling, as you pass the old man that is seemingly  always sitting outside of the building. He's lived there all his life.  Now that he's retired, it seems all he does is sit there, play chess, do  crosswords, and talk to anyone who passes by.

"You stayin' out  of trouble there kid?" He asked, not looking up from his crossword  puzzle. You stop your hurrying pace. You could manage to stop outside  with no sort of cover in sight to talk to a friend. You'd take that  risk. Your life was lonely enough. You cross your arms, shrugging  afterwards, a slick grin on your face.

"Always," you reply, clear  amusement in your tone. You see him raise a brow as he fills out a word  in the puzzle. It was only after that he finally looked up at you,  right in the eye.

"Then why the blood?" Your smirk grew. The  blood in your hair, the smeared blood on your face and body, and the  clear stains on your clothes were all obvious.

"I cut my hand  while cooking," you answer calmly, the smirk staying clear on your  features. A grin spread across his own face as he laughed out a few  hearty chuckles. He nods, looking down, concentrating back on his  puzzle.

"Just make sure you don't drip on Moireen's office  carpet. Or else she'll come out here and start complainin' for hours,"  he warned with a huff and a shake of his head. You laughed lightly, your  shoulders shaking. You sent him a nod before you looked back out at  your surroundings. No one was here. Good.

"Alright. I'll see ya later Bern," you agreed, making your way to the door. You heard him snort.

"Good luck, kid," he muttered, writing another word down for his puzzle.

You  swing the door open, ignoring the tall staircase towards your left and  instead headed to the right and into Moireen's office. You looked to  your immediate right to see her sitting at her desk.

When she saw  your footsteps, she looked away from her desk and up at you. She looked  you up and down before going back to her work.

"You're not gonna  get blood on my carpet, are you?" She asked, her accent much thicker  than Bernie's. You shook your head slowly, holding back your amusement.  Bernie and Moireen knew each other like the back of their old wrinkly  hands.

"You know I would never dream of it, Moireen," you express  teasingly. She let out a single hard laugh as she shuffled with her  papers on the desk.

"You got some important looking mail today.  Thought it would be better to deliver it right to you but you weren't in  the apartment," she explained, bringing out a handful of packages and  letters. You eyed them warily but took them with a smile as she handed  them over.

"I was cooking," you say distractedly, flipping  through each piece of mail. Not even getting the chance to appreciate  your instinctual use of your excuse. Out of the corner of your eye you  saw her nod and go back to her work.