Dancing in Her Webs | Yelena Belova [1]

Chapter 15

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Irina jumped back, wide eyed and face bright red as she inclined her head, and Yelena groaned, exhaling deeply, sounding disappointed. She straightened her posture, left hand remaining on the backrest of the chair while the other fell to her side.

"Don't stop on my account." Natasha smirked, "By all means, continue. Just not at the dinner table."

Yelena scoffed, rolling her eyes as she removed her hand and stepped back, "Shut up."

"Okay," Melina sighed, entering the dining/living room area, unaware of what Natasha had witnessed. "Sit, sit. Alexei should be out momentarily." She approached the table, more plates of food in hand, and placed them on the table before sitting beside Yelena's chair she claimed.

Irene looked up just as Nat began walking toward them then met Yelena's gaze, that she tried avoiding after their near lock-lipped moment. "Here," she said, handing Irina her tank-top. The dark-haired woman took it as the Widow rounded her, trekking back to her chair.

Irina slipped it on then turned her chair back to the table, facing Yelena and scooted up, but not before grabbing the plastic bag of frozen vegetables wrapped in a towel and placing it on her stomach. Natasha sat beside her, scooting up as well.

  An awkward silence engulfed them as Alexei's grunts grew louder and made the air more uncomfortable. Melina tilted her head and reached for the Vodka, "Let's drink." She poured some into a shot glass for herself and Yelena, while Irina and Natasha shook their heads, passing.

  Irene sipped her glass of water Natasha brought out moments ago, "What did you give him to wear for him to sound like his prison food's coming back? Clothes two sizes too small?"

  Alexei cleared his throat, and she snapped her gaze to him. He's out of his prison clothes, his arm placed on the archway of the bathroom as he leaned on it, presenting his suit. Most of it is red, parts of the seams, his gloves and the fabric on his sides black while his belt and the utility pouches attached to it are white, as are the gauntlets, the big Soviet star on his chest, and the straps that ran underneath the Soviet star and go across his chest, inner thighs, and over his shoulders. Covering most of his head —his beard, part of his lower cheeks and eyes only visible— he wore a helmet that matched, the Soviet star red and outlined in silver on his forehead; his whole attire reminded Irina of Steve's Avengers' uniform.

  Alexei shrugged, grinning from ear-to-ear like a child. "Still fits."

  Both of Irina's brows lifted, Melina clapping and wolf whistling once while Yelena immediately turned around, unimpressed. "Oh my god," she said lowly.

  Alexei laughed boisterously as he clapped once and did a funny dance before he took his helmet off. "I never washed it once," Melina informed, still looking at Alexei. Irina flickered her gaze to Yelena, lowering a dark brow, and the Widow shook her head, her annoyance only growing. "Come and drink," the oldest Widow and woman unscrewed the cap off the bottle of Vodka again and poured him some, and her some more.

  Yelena glanced at Alexei as he came to the head of table —between Melina and Natasha— and rubbed her eye. "Rise, you workers of salvation," Alexei sang before he scatted off part of the tone. "Family," he began, looking around the table, and Irina inclined her head, feeling out of place, "back together again. Mmm .  .  ."