Christmas in July

I've got it bad, and that ain't good.

The hot water beat down heavily on Kate's aching shoulders. The heat worked and relieved the tight muscles that it found there, but caused Kate to hiss and inhale sharply as it chased across the broken skin, just below her ribs. Water met blood as red streamed down Kate's legs, and danced its way into the drain below. She would have to treat that wound again once she was out of the shower, that was for certain. She sighed, heavily, rested her head against the cool, wet tiles of her shower, and released the breath she'd been holding. Whose idea had it been to send her on a mission the day before her big charity benefit dinner? Oh right, hers.

Her skin was painted black and blue and tender to the touch, her arms were scratched and her legs had been fighting to keep her upright since she'd dragged herself out of bed and away from her very warm and comfortable girlfriend to crack on with her long list of chores. Kate felt another sigh come and go as her mind wandered. The heat eased her body, the steam her lungs, and the gentle drumming of water falling upon porcelain eased her mind.

Kate hoped Yelena would be up by now, but the likelihood was that the blonde was still in bed. Neither woman was really that into mornings, but for Kate, today wasn't a regular day. Today was the Bishop Family's annual Christmas Benefit, and also happened to be a year to the day that she'd met Yelena. Not that Yelena would remember.

Yelena Belova, what a life changing revelation she'd been. If you'd have told Kate a year ago, that in a year's time she'd be sharing four different beds with that woman, she'd have firstly told you you were crazy, and she'd have secondly asked you how and when she could make that happen. She could never have imagined she'd be training with her, fighting by her side, sharing her life with her, kissing her, loving her, being loved by her. Not that Yelena would ever admit to loving Kate, not anytime soon, and Kate knew that was a reality that she'd have to live with, perhaps for quite some time. She was okay with that, because she didn't need to hear the words. She felt it. She felt it in her looks, her touches, her kisses. The way her voice softened for her, the way her eyes softened. And her smile. Kate had started to see something in her smile, a flicker of something she hadn't seen before. She found herself seeking it out, she needed to find it, needed to see it, because whenever she did catch a glimpse, it tipped her world on its head.

She'd seen it the previous night when Yelena had been very gently re-cleaning the wound that lay just below her ribs. Her touch was warm, her hair loose and messy, and her cheeks were flushed, as they'd both decided they were deserving of a glass of red and the heating turned up to eleven, and that's when she'd caught a glimpse of it again. The look. Soft, hopeful eyes, small, delicate smile. Kate had wondered momentarily if it was worth getting shot or stabbed on every mission, just for a chance to see that look again. The fairy lights that they'd decorated Kate's apartment with together twinkled and danced in Yelena's eyes as she'd chided, 'Next time, don't ask the man with the knife if he's going to stab you, just shoot him, please?' Kate had agreed, reluctantly. Getting stabbed hurt, even if the wound had been fairly superficial, and surely there would be other opportunities to catch Yelena's soft, hopeful gaze once more.

Soft looks had melted into soft kisses and even softer touches across sore skin and bruised flesh. Kate had gasped in equal parts pleasure and pain as Yelena's grip on her hip had tightened, just that little bit too much. Her girlfriend had apologised but Kate simply pulled her closer and captured her lips a little more fiercely than before. Her fingers had lost themselves in Yelena's thick tousled hair, and she'd hooked her leg very gently, up and over her girlfriend's waist, a position both had gotten very used to, but a position that Kate had found was becoming increasingly frustrating for her. She knew this was, at best, a process for Yelena, or at worst something worth managing to be with the woman she loved. And showers were her way of managing. Really long showers.