Christmas in July

I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve...

What was it that they said about Christmas? Oh yeah, that it was the most wonderful time of the year. What absolute bullshit. Kate had decided that she would be writing an angry letter to the writer of that song, before realising that the writer had in fact passed away thirty years previous. That wasn't to say that she wasn't still considering suing someone somewhere for false advertising, despite the eggnog, the Christmas sweaters, the roaring fire and the warm, smiling and happy family; all things that she'd usually associate with awesome fun holiday times. This year was different however. This year Kate was not feeling awesomely fun. She was trying desperately to find that thing within her, that untameable, unrelinquishing Christmas Spirit that could normally shine bright through thick or thin, but today, Kate was finding things particularly trying. She could deal with arguing relatives or demanding mothers, she could deal with missing her father at times like this, despite being surrounded by people she considered family, but this Christmas Eve Kate was dealing with something she'd never had to deal with over Christmas before, she was dealing with a break-up.

You know, people didn't normally break-up over Christmas, that was just mean. You'd tend to spare each other the pain until New Years, and then act surprised when it happened to avoid exactly this. The Holiday Blues. And of course, as no one knew about Kate and Yelena, which turned out to be one of the biggest sticking points in their relationship, Kate couldn't offload to anyone. So, she was doing her best to keep a lid on her chagrin in front of the Bartons. If she wanted to patch things up with Yelena it wouldn't be the best idea to let the cat out of the bag, especially with Clint.

Clint had kind of been another one of those unspoken off topic questions. Of course, Clint knew Yelena had been training Kate. He hadn't been too pleased when he'd first found out. A complicated mixture of protectiveness, worry, jealousy and fomo. He'd been on the phone to Kate, to Carol, and by the sounds of things, people a lot higher up, but he'd been given reassurances from all involved. Reassurances that hadn't necessarily alleviated any worry, but had made it quite clear that there was really no point pushing any further. Yelena was staying, and that was that. And anyways, she was only teaching Kate those softer and more board-friendly assassination skills, like non-lethal takedowns and threat recognition, rather than the more brutal assassination skills like neck snapping, heart stabbing and life ceasing. There really was nothing to worry about.

Did he know that they'd been living together? That was a no. Did he know that they slept together, ate together and dated together. Also, a no. Did he know that they were in some kind of not-relationship which involved lots of kissing, massages and hair brushing? Absolutely not, and it was clear to both of Kate and Yelena, that they had wanted to keep it that way until they were absolutely sure it was the right time to tell him. Which in Kate's mind was never, and in Yelena's mind was 'I'd rather be fucking dead'. Kate had always thought that Yelena's resistance over Clint knowing about their relationship had come from her wanting to avoid his lectures and judgement, which perhaps in part was true, and was almost certainly the reason she'd asked to not be invited to the Bartons' for Christmas, but now Kate knew that Yelena wanted to avoid everything and everyone, not just Clint.

So, there she was, sat in the most festive jumper she could find, tucked into Laura's side with a blanket shared between them and sipping on a heavily spiked eggnog at far too early an hour. Kate wasn't going to lie though; she needed that eggnog- words that probably no one else had ever thought ever, in the history of woman-kind. Laura's arm was draped over Kate's shoulder, and every now and then the older woman would give her arm a small squeeze or comforting touch; Laura's momma senses were tingling, like mad. As soon as Kate had walked through the door she'd known something was up, even if Clint had been none the wiser. The woman had been all over Kate since she'd arrived. Extra blankets, cookies, cake, cups of hot tea; you name it, Laura had provided it. Her hugs had been warmer and her brows more furrowed, and Kate had to work hard to smile brighter and cover the puffy redness surrounding her eyes from another tearful night, curled up with Lucky but no one else.