❛ we'll say it was an accident ❜ - bishlova

we'll say it was an accident (we both know it wasn't)

Kate was not to be held accountable for the incident. If anyone asked, she would probably choose to say she was tired and saw no other reasonable option. Yelena, she reasoned, was not to be blamed either, although the way she turned out to be in bed was everything short of what Kate had originally assumed about her. The archer was plenty aware of the Russian bear population but she'd never expected her assassin friend to cuddle like one in her sleep. 

She also charged and attacked like a bear. Viciously, effectively and, often, with one big hand furiously reaching out for Kate as the archer did her best to duck it.

"I thought all Europeans kissed each other on the cheek!" Kate squeaked meekly, ducking another attempt to reach her on Yelena's part.

The Russian was anything but pleased, if the muttered су́ка was anything to go by. She reached out again, her hand contracting the soft surface of a neatly folded woollen turtleneck, fingers entangling in between the thick, braided strands. They wiggled free as she gritted her teeth at the minor setback and steadied her hip with a hand.

"As a greeting! Not to suggest spending the entire night cradled in each other’s arms!" she huffed exasperatedly, her thick accent giving her the likeness of a tired kitten rather than a deadly and very angry Russian assassin with a flawless training history. Kate, on her part, had always found the accent enjoyable to listen to whenever possible; it was sharp and pronounced but did not get in the way of the spoken words and oh my god she would be such a successful lecturer at Yale or some shit.

Kate considered saving her life and climbing as high as manageable; those intense rope-climbing day camps at the age of ten had to pay off somehow.

"How was I supposed to know?" 

"By having eyes! A working brain? Anything other than the one-track mind that’s your frankly very adorable bow shooting abilities?"

Kate squeaked as the Russian took a decisive step closer and reached out to grab her again, and decided climbing higher was a good idea after all.

"Well, it wasn't that obvious!"

Yelena, in all her ruffled hair and remarkable eye bags glory, looked like she was about to protest, brown eyes burning and fixed on Kate of all people. Instead she sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose, hand on her hip, eyes tightly shut. Her downcast expression softened, eyes flicking sideways momentarily. 

"...Kate Bishop?" Kate stirred at how tired and gentle the woman suddenly sounded, peering up to look at her. The sharp Russian accent seemed to waver, a sudden softness to it that would've had Kate swallowing her tongue just saying it.

"Yes?"

"Get out of my closet." 

Ah, alright, nevermind.

"Okay, okay, jeez, only if you promise not to go all deadly assassin on me," Kate scrambled out of the wardrobe awkwardly, shaking off her head an item of clothing she definitively didn't need more knowledge about than what she had from the singular look she cast at it but if it actually belonged to Yelena then holy fuck, and tripped over the edge. Her graceless slam into the wall was duly noted by the assassin staring her down. "We still spent the night together!"

"We lay together all night and cuddled, Kate Bishop, nothing else your cute little brain might come up with." Kate grunted out a loud and smug you think it's cute? from where she was leaning against the wall as Yelena recoiled with a shudder: "Actually, that's much worse, cuddling sounds so soft and mushy and peaceful and eugh."

A cute, dismissive hand motion followed the statement, giving it some liveliness. And credibility. Despite her facade, it seemed Yelena wasn't actually half as opposed to the idea as she would've been thought to be. Kate counted that as a win.

Before the archer could answer, Yelena chose to go on: "In any case, we are friends and nothing else, ястреб, so don't go getting ideas."

"I cradled you in my arms!" 

"So you did," Yelena sighed as she reached for the large blanket, which had fallen to the floor, and folded it on the bed.

Kate pouted angrily and tilted her head indignantly.

Yelena rolled her eyes: "Friends do that, I really don't know why you Americans are all so touchy about that."

"I'm not being touchy about anything, thank you very much," Kate's eyes followed the fluid motion of Yelena sticking her head back into the wardrobe as she folded her arms on her chest, "and I'm very well aware friends can do a lot of things and still be friends but…" 

The Russian cut her off with a wave and a tut, head still in the wardrobe, rummaging through it in search of clean clothing. Instead of finding it she fished out a large bottle of vodka and all but tossed it to Kate, ignoring the archer's incredulous gaze.

"I hope you like raspberry, Kate Bishop, because it's all I have for now," a pair of tight blue jeans and a white sleeveless top landed on the bed as the wardrobe door slid shut. "Now, you go make breakfast, I need to change," Yelena said. And, upon noticing Kate just standing there, looking at her dumbly, she waved a hand at her: "Shoo! Off with you!"

Paying no mind to the other woman, Yelena crouched down to open a drawer. She peeked up after a few seconds to see Kate still awkwardly standing in place, vodka bottle clutched at her chest.

"What?"

"We could also be other things than friends, y'know, whatever you'd be willing to be…" Kate tried awkwardly, one hand in her hair, playing with a loose strand. For a lack of a better occupation she then shoved it in her pyjama pocket, her stance shifting nervously. "Only if you'd be, uh, down for that, 'course…"

Yelena stared forward, unblinking, assessing Kate silently. Her eyes gave the archer a quick, nearly imperceptible one-over before focusing back on her face, a soft mutter accompanying the motion. And Kate didn't exactly pride herself with good knowledge of Russian but even she could tell that возлюбленный was nothing too negative, at least.

"Don't burn my kitchen down and maybe I'll consider it."

Yelena's tone was belittling, as though speaking through a facade to a child but, looking closer, a hint of a smile danced coyly on her features. 

***

[a/n] - for Ghoust_of_mind <3 tysm for the prompt! i hope you don't mind i took the liberty to change it up a tiny bit so that i could process it better!

the Russian translations are as follows:
су́ка - b^tch, contextually meant in an affectionate and/or lighthearted way;
ястреб - hawk;
возлюбленный - dear, beloved;