#yelena belova sickfic

[mapis-putellas]

Don’t say I didn’t warn you

Advent day 12: Carry me?

Paring: sick Yelena x reader

Notes: the longest one yet!

“Come on,” Yelena shouts giddily as the rain water from the puddles soak her legs, spinning in circles with her arms out either side of her. “This is so much fun.”

You watch with a smile -from the very dry threshold of the doorway might you add, as Yelena jumps in yet another puddle. It was currently summer, and after weeks upon weeks of unbearable heat, the sky had finally let loose with a much needed torrential downpour.

It had started of small. Tiny drops of moisture dotting the windows and the cement, then with an almighty roar of thunder, it had begun to bucket it down.

The second Yelena had gotten a glance out of the window after putting away the dishes from lunch, there had been no stopping her. Both her shoes and coat had been left abandoned in the entry way of your home as she’d excitedly run outside, and despite your concerns that this decision might bite her in the butt, you couldn’t deny just how adorable she looks.

Soon, the sound of wet feet hitting the cement catches your attention, and you flicker your eyes over just in time to see Yelena running full speed towards a large, still steadily growing puddle.

Your eyes widen. “Yelena no-” too late. She lands in the very centre, and the power of her feet hitting the water has her absolutely saturated. Seemingly uncaring over this fact, she lets out a loud laugh and wipes at her eyes before turning to face you with a proud grin.

You couldn’t help but return it, not remembering the last time you’d seen her so happy. Knowing she’d be content by herself for a few moments, you disappear inside and grab a few towels from the laundry closet, not intending on letting her back inside when she’d be sure to drip water absolutely everywhere.

By the time you return, she was walking back towards the house looking like an adorably drowned rat, and you hold out one of the towels ready for her to step into. She does, and you don’t miss the sigh of relief that escapes her lips as she allows you to pull her into her arms.

“Did you have fun?” You murmur as you close and lock your front door before securing your arms around the small, shivering blonde, cupping the back of her head with one hand whilst the other rubs up and down her back in a futile attempt at warming her up.

She nods, “So much.” She murmurs contently as she nuzzles her nose into your neck, and you couldn’t help but smile as you press your lips against the side of her head. With the knowledge that she probably wouldn’t willingly leave your arms for at least some time, you bend and lift her with the intention of giving her a lift to the bathroom so she could shower.

“I’m not a baby.” She grumbles, but wraps her legs around your waist anyway, and you roll your eyes fondly as you pat her behind and begin making your way up the stairs.

“Being held doesn’t make you a baby,” you remind her like you’ve done many times before, and though she grumbles, she doesn’t retort knowing you were speaking the truth. Once you’ve made it to the bathroom, you set her down on her feet and cup her face before placing a kiss to her forehead.

Her cheeks flush, and you smile softly as you pull away from her. “Go shower and I’ll make us some hot chocolate, okay?”

“With whipped cream and marshmallows?” She tilts her head to the side, and you nod with a knowing smile.

“Duh.” You retort, and Yelena playfully flips you off before turning towards the shower. Taking that as a dismissal, you turn to leave the room making sure to close the door behind you.

You hum softly to yourself as you begin preparing the drinks, adding a little more chocolate to Yelena’s own knowing that’s how she prefers it. After adding a sufficient amount of whipped cream and marshmallows, you carry both cups through to the living room just in time for Yelena to make an appearance at the bottom of the stairs.

“You should dry your hair.” you say in place of a greeting as you give her a knowing look, sitting down on the couch and picking up the remote. Yelena huffs in fake annoyance as she comes to sit next to you, tucking her bare feet beneath your thigh as she reaches for her drink.

“It will be fine. You worry too much.” She mumbles distractedly as she sticks out her tongue to scoop up a marshmallow, and you watch her for a second before rolling your eyes with a fond sigh.

You knew it was another decision that would later bite her in the ass.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You muse as you select frozen 2 on Disney +, a known favourite of Yelena’s that she would watch at least twice a week.

*

And warn her you did. Just two days later, Yelena had fallen ill with such a heavy cold you wondered just how she was alive. She was severely congested. Hazy with a high fever, and that wasn’t even mentioning the continuous coughs and sneezes.

“Baby, you know the beds a whole lot more comfortable right?” You murmur in quiet amusement as you reach out to gently brush a damp strand of hair out of the sick Russians face.

Yelena simply grunts in acknowledgment as she wipes uselessly at her running nose, and you fondly roll your eyes as you lean down to press a kiss to her warm forehead. “I’ll go get the bed ready okay? You stay here.” You speak, and this time, Yelena doesn’t even acknowledge you. She simply closes her eyes and falls into what you could only assume was a fitful sleep.

You weren’t offended by the action. Yelena was notoriously grumpy when feeling sick, and due to the fact you’d been together for over three years, it was something you were pretty much used to. The same couldn’t be said when you first got together, but that was a story for another time.

With another sigh, -because it sucked when she was sick, even if it wasn’t self inflicted- you leave the living room and make your way up to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, just as it was everyday, and you don’t waste any time in pulling the covers back and knocking the decorative pillows out of the way .

You make sure there were tissues and water readily available on the nightstand before heading back over to the sick blonde, and you couldn’t help but smile when you realise she was in the exact same position you’d left her in.

Well, excluding her nose that was yet again running. Without a word, you grab a few tissue from the box on the coffee table and fold them in half before crouching down before her and pinching the end of her nose in a futile effort to get rid of the dripping snot.

She rouses slightly at the action, her face scrunching up in discomfort, and you quietly shush her with a gentle hand on her stomach as you finish with your task and make quick work of sanitising your hands.

“Time for bed baby, come on.” You reach out and give her behind a few steady pats in a futile effort at rousing her. Yelena whines quietly as she lazily bats your hands away, and you chuckle slightly as you instead reach up to gently pat her upper back. “Lena? Come on. Time to get up.”

Yelena again, bats your hand away, her eyes flickering open and sending you a pretty deadly glare. Before she could chew you out, you scoot a little closer and cup her cheek. Without thought, Yelena falls into your soothing touch, and your lips quirk up at the corners as you trail the pad of your thumb over warm skin.

“Let’s get you in bed, okay?” You murmur, and Yelena sniffles wetly as she gently bobs her head up and down. You release her face and go to stand up, but a gentle whine stops you in your tracks. You look down and see her staring at you with a pleading look on her face.

“What is it baby?” You question, and whilst Yelena’s cheeks flush a light shade of red, she seemingly responds to you with ease.

“Carry me? Please?” She murmurs, and your heart melts in your chest as you immediately nod your head. Normally, it was only ever you who insinuates holding her. So for her to ask, whilst nearly unbelievable, was absolutely amazing.

With a smile, you bend down and wrap your arms around her midsection. You lift her with relative ease, her legs hooking tightly around your waist as she buries her head into your neck. With an arm remaining beneath her behind for support, you bring the other one up to cup the back of her head and press a tender kiss to her shoulder.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

**

@goldenempyrean @alotofpockets @somber-sapphic

[goldenempyrean]

Tough Love

〚 Day 7 - You’re a jerk when you’re sick"  〛

〚 Pairing - Yelena Belova x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Even when shes' grumpy, you'll still be there for her. 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙〘 Sicktember 2023 Masterlist 〙

“I’m not taking it!” Yelena whined, crossing her arms as she turned her head away from you, a true show of her matureness.

“Oh my god.” You groaned as you held out the dose of medicine, “Do you want pneumonia or something? You need to take this.” Your fingers came to pinch the bridge of your nose as your huffed. Honestly it was like dealing with a child.

A few weeks prior the smug blonde had over-confidently stated that “she didn’t need a flu-jab”. Oh how she ate those words.

“Yelena, I understand you don't want to take it, but this medicine will help you get better faster," you pleaded, hoping to appeal to her logical side. "You're clearly suffering, and I don't want it to get worse. Just one dose, and you'll start feeling better soon love."

Yelena's face scrunched up in a mixture of discomfort and defiance. She remained silent, arms still crossed tightly over her chest before she wracked forward in a harsh set of chesty coughing that left her breathless and panting.

“I..I dont need it.” She spat, her words broken up by her voice breaking. A sudden sneeze caught her off guard, and she hastily covered her mouth with her hand. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, avoiding your gaze. It was clear that she was trying to tough it out, but her body's reactions were betraying her.

You quickly reach for a tissue and hand it to Yelena, concern evident in your eyes. "Here, bless you," you said gently, "Blow your nose baby. It should help a little.”

Yelena reluctantly took the tissue from you and blew her nose, still refusing to make eye contact. Her stubbornness was evident, but still you had one last effort to convince her.

"Yelena, I understand that you're trying to tough it out," you began, your voice softening. "But being sick is tough enough as it is. Let me help you feel better. I don't want to see you suffer unnecessarily."

She sniffled again and finally looked up at you, her eyes watery and tired. After a moment of hesitation, she finally relented and reached out for the medicine you'd been holding. "Fine," she mutters, her voice hoarse. "But only because you won't stop bothering me about it."

You gave her a small smile, grateful that she was finally willing to take the medicine. "Thank you, Yelena," you nodded sincerely. "I promise you'll start feeling better soon. I'll be here to take care of you."

As she swallowed the medicine, you handed her a glass of water to wash it down with. Yelena gives you a half-hearted glare but takes a sip, swallowing the medicine with a grimace.

"See? That wasn't so bad," You teased, trying to lighten the mood. "You’re a jerk when you’re sick, yknow?"

Yelena grumbles under her breath but doesn't protest further. Especially not when you slide into the open spot beside her, letting the blonde rest her tired, aching head on you. Despite her harsh exterior you knew that all she wanted deep down was to be comforted and loved, and you were all too happy to provide.

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @scrambled-brain-eggs@natashamyl0ve@bloomingflowersthings@kathleenmikaelson@shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen@citrussnz@fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong@santana1437@lovelyy-moonlight@lots-of-pockets@sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69@observeowl@danveration@idkeithershawty @rainedontknow@loveshineslikethesky@somber-sapphic@lexasaurs634@scarlettssub@paisley-yy

[bloomingflowersthings]

Taking a break

Pairings: Yelena Belova x sick!reader

Summary: Moving in to your first house with your girlfriend is really exciting, but also exhausting. While concentrating in organizing your new home, you forgot that it’s important to take a break sometimes, especially when you’re feeling unwell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your girlfriend, Yelena were finally moving to your first house. While you both loved living in the avengers compound with everyone, the feeling that you were living where you work just wasn’t working, your workaholic mind just wouldn’t rest. So you decided to move to a little house near the compound. It wasn’t too big but it was just the two of you so that wouldn’t be a problem. You and Yelena had spent the last month organizing the house and packing your things, and today you were officially moving.

You were so excited about your moving, that you ended up overworking yourself tidying up your home, which wouldn’t be a big problem if you hadn’t caught a really bad cold in the process.

“Eiishiew! Eeshiew! Hh’iiishoo!” you sneezed on your elbow, almost falling since you had to quickly balance the heavy box that you were carrying.

“Bless you detka, you still dealing with that cold?” Yelena said, placing a hand on your back to steady you.

“It’s not too bad, I barely noticed it”

“Well, I noticed that you sneezed a billion times in the last hour” she giggled “but I really think you should rest a little, we can slow down a bit, what do you think?”

“No!! now that we’re already here, i’m only going to stop once i unpack everything” you said, finishing your sentence quickly to catch a set of sneezes in your elbow.

Yelena blessed you, the assassin was really worried about you. You had been sick for a few days now, and while she tried to take care of you, you were reluctant to get some rest. Usually, she loved your determination to get things done, but at this moment, your stubbornness was not helping.

“Princess, i’ll be alright!” you said, noticing the way she was glancing worriedly at you.

“Yeah, your chapped nose and pale face are so reassuring” she mumbled.

You both decided to split up while unpacking your things, that way it would be quicker. You were organizing the living room while Yelena took care of the kitchen.

“Hh’iiitshoo! Hh’tshhhiew! Hh..H-Hh’tshuu! H-H’iitshiew!”

“Bless you.” Yelena said, as she emerged from the kitchen, bringing a tissue box and placing it in front of you, making you slightly self conscious.

“I’m sorry…” you said, blushing red.

“You don’t need to apologize for sneezing, silly girl. I just brought the tissues cause I thought that you might need them.”

“No, I’m sorry that I got sick and I’m sorry for being stubborn.” you said, as tears formed in your eyes. Your raging fever and exhaustion were making you sensitive.

“No baby, it’s alright. I mean it’s no fun that you’re not feeling well, but we’re gonna fix that okay? i’m here and i’m gonna take care of you.” she said, pulling you into a tight hug. “You do feel too warm for me, can you just wait a second while i’m gonna grab a wet cloth for you?” you nodded slowly and she lowered you in the couch, making sure you were comfortable.

While trying to calm yourself down, your breath got caught on your throat and you entered a painful coughing fit. Your girlfriend could swear she could hear your lungs rattling.

“My love? let’s move over to our bed?” Yelena asked, after placing the cloth on your forehead.

“‘Lena, I don’t feel so good” you admitted. You felt dizzy and weren’t sure if you were gonna be able to walk to your room.

Without saying a word, the blonde picked you up, bridal style, to carry you to bed.

After tucking you in, she laid by your side, kissing your temple. “Oh malyshka, I hate to see you like this…” she said as you begin to shiver.

“I just need some sleep, i’ll be fine.” You said, tugging closer to her.

“Let’s take a nap then, I’ll be right here.” Yelena said, and the both of you fell into a peaceful slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud noise woke up the assassin. Quickly getting to her feet she tried to reach blindly for one of her guns until she remembered that she hadn’t spread any weapons around the house yet.

Looking over to the bed, you weren’t there. She immediately understood what was happening.

Walking over to the living room, there you were, still trying to clean the house besides feeling obviously bad. The loud noise that she heard was made by one of the boxes that you dropped on your hazy state.

“Y/N?” Yelena asked, noticing how glassy your eyes were.

When you didn’t acknowledge her presence she placed a hand to your forehead. You were significantly warmer than earlier. poor baby…

“Please stay put, i’m getting you something for that fever.” She said as she sat you down on the couch. Your lack of protests were probably because you were so out of it. It broke her heart to see you in that state.

Every girl who got sick like this in the red room was brutally tortured. So Yelena panicked every time she saw someone getting sick. However, thankfully she was free from Dreykov and she would never have to deal with that kind of thing again.

Finding some Tylenol in her purse, she brought it over to you amongst a glass of water. You took the pills and looked over at her.

“I’m tired…”

“I know sweetie, how about we lay down? I’m tired too and a break wouldn’t hurt. You need some rest.” She said while massaging your scalp.

You nodded in approval and she picked you up again. Laying down with you and holding you close. She would never let anything bad happen to you.

“Sweet dreams Y/N, I hope you get well soon.”

[sunshinesickies]

Angst takes me a bit longer to write and I also don’t see myself doing much more angst fics in the future, but thank you for the request anon, and I hope you enjoy. Plz ignore the weird timeline crossover, I’m not totally up to date on what Yelena is doing after Hawkeye, but I like to think she’s out helping more widows or something along those lines.

*TW for angst and language

Kate Bishop x Reader sickfic

Burning Jealousy, Burning Fever

Yesterday

“Really, Kate?!” You can’t help but shout, a red hot feeling bubbling in your chest. “Seriously! I’ve barely seen you these past couple weeks, and I’m the one being distant? You keep saying you have work—but which work is it huh? Your actual job or the fantasy one where you run around shooting arrows with your cool new mac-n-cheese-loving blonde girlfriend?” You know you’re probably being unfair, but to be fair, so is Kate. She all but randomly accused you of being distant when that’s literally all she’s done in the past couple weeks.

“S-stop! Y/n you know that’s not true. Yelena is not my girlfriend! She just needs my help, I have a responsibility, I-I really thought you understood that.” Kate dark eyes soften a little as she looks towards the ground, tears burning her eyes. And yeah, yeah that hurts. Because you do understand, just not as much as you’d hope to.

“You already have a responsibility, Kate! To the company, to us.” You want nothing more than all of this to just stop, but you can’t. You can’t stop the burning rage and self doubt in your heart every time Kate runs off to join Yelena to do whatever the fuck they do when you’re not around. And the pounding-the pounding in your head that started a few days ago that just won’t go away. You know it’s clouding your thoughts, you know you’re being selfish. But is it selfish to want the girl you love to come home safe every night? To not have to wonder if she’ll make it home each day? To not have to wonder what she does when she’s off with a friend she never told you existed?

“I know that, y/n! But this is my responsibility too, as someone who can help others, who can make a difference, I can’t just stop being who I am…I….” The raven haired girl loses her train of thought when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She glances at it with a sigh. “I-it’s Yelena, she found the widow, she needs me. I have to go—y/n…I’m sorry.” Her face is full of regret as she looks up at you. Your eyes glaze over as she stands there, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, run along then. At least she understands.” You spit, energy drained as you stand there. Kate grabs her bow with a huff and leaves, moving towards the door without another word. The last thing you see is her glancing over her shoulder to you, an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The second the door closes you collapse onto the couch, and unable to keep your eyes open, you let them drift close as you think about how you even got into this situation.

Two Weeks Ago

It all started two weeks ago when you walk into Kate’s apartment, take-out for dinner in hand, and get the shit scared out of you when you turn on the light to see an unfamiliar blonde haired woman sitting on the couch, sharpening a knife as calmly as if she were reading a book. She looks up at you, confusion spreading across her face. “You’re not Kate Bishop—I was sure I broke into the right apartment.” She mutters with what sounds like a curse in another language.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You scream, backing into the front door, reaching beside you for anything that could protect you if necessary. “Woah, woah. Chill out not-Kate bishop. I’m not going to hurt you…mhmm…good thing I brought macaroni.” The blonde stands, tucking her knife away and motioning towards the dropped and spilled food by your feet. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, frantic eyes never leaving the strange woman. She puts up her hands to show you they’re empty.

“No need for such dramatics. My name is Yelena and I’m a friend of Kate Bishop’s. Now is she going to be home soon? Should I heat up the oven?” She gestures to the kitchen.

“I—uh I…what?” You breathe, finally calming down a bit as it seems she’s making no sudden moves. It’s then that you notice Lucky had trotted over to the woman, wagging his tail as she bends down to pet him. Your confusion only grows. “What are you doing here? How’d you even—?” You take a few steps forward, taking out your phone to track your girlfriend. A wave of relief washes over you when you see she’s almost home from work.

“As I said, I need Kate Bishop’s help. This is her dog so I know I’m in the right place, well I had no doubts about that…but you I didn’t anticipate. Who are you?” Yelena asks and you keep talking, stalling for time until Kate arrives. “I’m y/n, I live here. Kate’s my girlfriend?” You raise your eyebrows expecting to get some sort of realization out of the blonde. She only frowns.

“Bishop never mentioned she was dating someone.” She looks somewhat betrayed as if she should have been kept in the loop. Just then you heard the click of the lock and you finally breathe normally as you watch Kate enter the apartment. She freezes, her mouth gaping as she takes in the scene before her.

“Ah there she is! Finally, Kate Bishop—hey how come you never told me about the lovely y/n here?” Yelena motions to you and you move to stand by Kate’s side. “Baby, what the hell is going on?” You whisper in her ear and she looks to you, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Um—y/n meet Yelena, Yelena, this is y/n.”

So yeah. That’s how you met the deadly assassin that happens to be your girlfriend’s friend. And that’s how this whole mess started.

One Week Ago

After the night you met Yelena, you quickly find out how much she likes to stick around, and how much she loves mac and cheese. You try your best to be polite, to enjoy the company of Kate’s friend, but its a little hard when every interaction between them feels like flirting and she keeps whisking Kate off to go on a “mission” or “stake out”, or whatever excuse she can come up with to leave you out of it. Yelena seems nice, she really does. But you can’t help but feel that she’s a little too nice, and a little too comfortable around your girlfriend. Not to mention the fact that Kate never once told you about her yet now acts like they’ve known each other forever.

“Kate, how long is Yelena staying for?” You whisper to your girlfriend as the two of you cuddle in bed. The blonde in mention is currently downstairs, asleep on your couch. She’d been crashing at Kate’s apartment for almost a week now, coming and going at weird hours, almost never using the door, usually the window, and often taking Kate with her. “I don’t know. I guess until she finds all the widows in New York.” Kate mumbles into your shoulder, half asleep. You sigh, closing your eyes and letting the sound of her soft snores lull you to sleep.

Last Night

Almost another week passes and Yelena still hasn’t left. With your irritation only growing, you find it harder and harder to keep your cool around the assassin as she traipses around your apartment like she owns the place, eating mac and cheese and watching movies with your girlfriend, making her laugh and doing the dishes.

Work has been exhausting since you’ve been picking up Kate’s slack at the company that you work at, the one she owns. And you guess everything just hit its limit because this morning you’d woken up with an annoying scratch in your throat and a throbbing in your sinuses.

Currently you’re laying on the couch, the oncoming cold and exhaustion from the day making your eyelids droopy as you enjoy one of the few moments of peace you’ve had in the past couple weeks. Yelena is out doing god knows what and you’re laying in Kate’s arms as the two of you watch a movie. You sniffle softly, attempting to keep your slightly runny nose at bay. You can feel a steady warmth growing in your body, one that makes you feel cold even though you’re cuddled up to your girlfriend and under a cozy blanket.

“Hey.” Kate murmurs into your hair and you hum, glancing up at her, the blue light from the tv casting a soft glow on her face. “You okay, love? You seem off tonight.” She states, a small worried crease in her brows. You try your best to give her a convincing smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine Katie, jus’ tired. Long day.” You hum back. You’re mulling over the idea of just telling her you’re sick, then maybe she would focus on you for a while, make you feel loved and cared for like she did before Yelena came to town and distracted her.

Kate can tell you aren’t being fully honest and opens her mouth to say something else but a soft buzz from her phone on the coffee table pulls her attention away. She looks at the text. You can tell its from Yelena by the way her brows furrow and her jaw sets in that stubborn, determined look you usually find endearing. You sigh.

“It’s Lena, she’s close to finding the last widow. She might need me.” She mutters to you, avoiding your eyes because she knows she she’ll only feel guilty from the expression on her face. She knows she hasn’t been fair to you these past couples weeks. But she has a job, a responsibility, and her friend needs her. She’s helping to make a difference, to save lives. She’ll make it up to you, she will.

You pull away from her warm arms, standing up, head pounding at the sudden movement. “Woah babe…” Kate stands up too. “Where are you going? What about the movie?” She calls as you start to make your way to the stairs. You turn back to face her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” You state simply, maybe a little too harshly judging by the way Kate looks hurt and confused by your words. You turn once more to the stairs.

“Ugh why are you being so—so….distant lately?” Kate bites back, and that’s it. You storm back over to her. “Really, Kate?!”

And…yeah, that’s how you ended up fighting with Kate at 11pm while sporting a very untimely fever—one which the archer doesn’t known about since she hasn’t been around enough to know you’re feeling under the weather.

Today

You don’t know how long you’re passed out for, but when you come to, the apartment is flooded with sunlight. Kate’s coat and bow are still gone so you know she didn’t come back last night. Guilt bubbles in your chest when you think about what happened. You really didn’t want to fight with her, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You try to move but find your limbs feel like jelly. The light from outside amplifies your headache and you can feel your hair and clothes slightly damp with sweat from your fever. You want to call Kate. To tell her you’re sorry, that you love her, that you need her now. You blink, not sure where your phone is and not having the energy to find it. You hear a distant whine and faintly resister Lucky licking your hand. You muffle a painful cough into the pillow below your cheek and you can’t resist when your eyes drift close once more.

When Kate finally comes home that afternoon, her heart drops the second she sees you sprawled out on the couch. Even from across the room she can see the thick layer of sweat coating your hairline and your ragged, uneven breathing. Her eyes widen and she curses under her breath as she rushes over to you. Her worry only amplifies when she sees you up close.

“Y/n? Baby, can you hear me?” She places a hand to the side of your cheek and feels the strong heat radiating off you. She can’t believe this. She can’t believe that she didn’t know you were getting sick, or that your fight could have been induced by the fever, or the fact that you needed her and she left you for almost a whole day like this. The archer feels as though she could throw up just thinking about how awful you must’ve felt. All her anger and frustration from last night fades as she focuses solely on you.

“Please, baby, wake up, y/n?” She shakes your shoulder a bit and lets out a sigh of relief when you groan and shift a little. “K-Katie?” You slur, eyes still shut as you try reaching out your arm to find the source of the familiar voice. “Yeah, yes, baby. It’s me, I’m here.” Kate grabs tight onto your hand and squeezes it gently.

You slowly open your eyes to see the blurry form of your girlfriend crouch in front of you. You lose sight of her as tears start forming in your eyes. “M’sorry.” You whimper, and you can feel her soft thumbs start to brush away your tears.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. I’m sorry too. For more than last night. For everything. For being distant, for not realizing you got sick for…” She starts to ramble as tears form in her own eyes.

“Iss okay.” You mumble. “You’re here now.” You offer what you can in the form of a slight smile. You can’t think straight right now, you’re not even entirely sure Kate is actually here and not just some fever induced dream. But whether it’s real or not, for the first time in a while, with her hand gripping your’s, you feel calm, comforted, seen.

Kate blinks the tears out of her eyes as yours drift closed again. Biting her lip, she pulls away but you don’t even notice, so lost in your haze. She returns a moment later with a cool damp cloth, a glass of water, and a fever reducing pill. She slips onto the couch, carefully maneuvering you so she’s holding your slumped form in her arms.

“Here, take this baby.” She holds the pill and water up to your lips and they part briefly, enough for her to get you to swallow. “You’re okay, love. It’s all going to be okay now.” She hums in your ear along with other sweet assurances as she holds your shivering form tight.

After a while of silence, you come to again, still only half awake but you can now feel Kate’s soothing presence as she holds you and something miraculously cool is resting on your forehead. “I-I’m sorry, Katie.” You mumble and you can feel her fingers running through your hair. “I trust you, a-and I understand. Really I do…I was just…” You add though your words are a slur of mumbles. Kate kisses your head. “Shhh, It’s okay y/n. I know, I know. Just sleep now. We’ll talk when you’re better.” Kate hums back and you let out a deep sigh.

“I love you.” You hear Kate whisper in your ear as you drift back off to sleep. And finally, you feel at peace, knowing her words are true. You love her too, but you can’t seem to get your lips to form the words. So instead, so settle for knowing that once you’re better, the two of you will be able to explain everything to each other, be completely honest, and to get through this. For now, you’re happy without needing to say anything at all. She’s here. And that’s all that matters.

[somber-sapphic]

Hi I was wondering if you could do the sicktember 24. “Did you just sneeze?” - Yelena x Sick Reader.

Little Kitten

〖Summary: Yelena teases you for the way you sneeze.〗

〖Word Count: 550〗

〖Pairing: Yelena x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: I would greatly appreciate if everyone is nice about this one, I will admit that Yelena is not my best character and I'm working to get better at her characterization.〗

〖Translation: котенок = kitten (according to google translate; I don't speak Russian, I'm sorry if it's wrong)〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Did you just…sneeze?” Yelena asked, incredulous at the small kittenish sound you had just made. You pouted at her and grabbed a tissue that you used to paw at your nose. Her face split into a grin as she watched your movements, noting that even those were strangely catlike. 

 “Lena,” You whined, sniffing in a rather pathetic way. “Le’me alone, I don’ feel good.” A permanent pout had settled on your lips since this mind-numbing cold had started and you felt rather pitiful. 

To her credit, Yelena had been doing a surprisingly good job at taking care of you. She wouldn’t win any awards for being the most nurturing person, but she made sure you ate, drank water, took your meds, and supplied you with more tissues than you’d ever need. She even cuddled with you when you asked, though the act was performed with a lot of grumbling about germs. 

You didn’t blame her, this was a monster of a cold that had you laid up in bed for three days already, days that felt like weeks. It had hit you hard and fast, one night you were fine and the next morning you were an absolute mess. 

Your head ached. Every part of you ached, your nose was stuffy, and you had a low-grade fever that was just enough to make your bones hurt. You’d developed a cough the day before that was clinging to your chest, making it feel heavy. Concerns of bronchitis had floated across your mind for a moment, but you didn’t feel well enough to care. 

If it was bronchitis Yelena was making sure you were doing what you needed to combat it and you were pretty sure she wouldn’t let you die. Not like that anyway, that would be rude of her. 

“Fine, but that was cute. Do you need anything?” she asked, still chuckling. The little smile on her face would have been sweet if it hadn’t come at your expense. You glared at her and crossed your arms over your chest, huffing your frustration. Not only were you plain old tired, but you were tired of being sick. 

“No.” You muttered, staring with dead eyes at the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing but the bright light was annoying you. Everything was annoying you. You were mad about being sick, mad that TV was boring, mad that your nose was running, mad that your throat hurt. Mad mad mad. 

“Okay grumpy, why don't you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you something to eat? We’ve got some great boxed mac and cheese.” she offered, trying to guess what you were thinking. She was right of course, the most frustrating thing about your current situation was that all you had eaten was soup. You were so done with soup. 

“Fine.” You took in a quick breath and sneezed again, making the same sound as earlier. Yelena laughed and leaned over to kiss your forehead, the bed shifting with her weight. 

“Rest котенок. Food will be ready when you are.” As she left you allowed yourself a small smile. You were touched by her warmth, something saved only for you. She had such a hard exterior, which made sense considering what she had been through, and her caring held a different level of meaning. 

[shiningstarr15]

i have a cold right now and feel like garbage, so could you write a fic where yelena is sick and being a little bit of a baby about it, so natasha takes care of her and gives her lots of cuddles? thank you so much!

Hi there! So sorry to hear you’re not feeling well 💔 Thanks so much for the request. I had a lot of fun writing this one and just love giving all the attention and affection that Yelena deserves 🥺 so much so that I just keep writing and sometimes end up with stories way longer than I anticipated. I hope you don’t mind though 😅

I hope you enjoy and feel better really soon. Hugs! 🥺💞

——————————————————————

Word count: 4,728

The first thing Natasha notices when she wakes up is the feeling of the very subtle rumbling.

Natasha slowly opens her eyes as her eyebrow furrows. She placed a hand on her stomach still tucked inside the comforters to feel if maybe she had made that vibration. Nothing.

A quick microsecond of terror flashes as she briefly pondered the possibility that the safe house was..not so safe. She bolted upright and placed a hand on the wall, feeling for any rumbles or vibrating to indicate something really wrong. To her relief, she felt nothing.

That still begged the question of where that feeling was coming from.

As she went to sit back down on the bed, the rumbling suddenly picked up slightly on intensity. She cocked her head a bit to the right of her and her eyes fell upon the massive lump. And that’s when she noticed it.

The comforter was slightly shaking, giving way to occasional jolts. The only thing visible sticking out of it were tufts of familiar blonde hair.

Natasha started to worry slightly. It was a known fact that Yelena was known to have frequent nightmares. However, this would usually result in Yelena thrashing sporadically in the blankets and kicking profusely.

Natasha should know, she had the bruises to prove it.

But the sight she was met with didn’t look like that. Rather than kicking and throwing the blanket off, Yelena had it up all the way to her neck and was practically cocooned inside it. Natasha got up on her side of the bed and slowly padded over to Yelena’s. She crouched down to where she knew her face would be sticking out.

Yelena appeared to still be asleep, but now Natasha could also hear the barest hints of teeth chattering. So she knew now that it wasn’t from a nightmare, but rather being cold.

However, this didn’t worry her quite as much as when she managed to get a better look at her face.

Natasha noticed that Yelena looked way more pale than usual. Her eyes looked puffy, her nose was tinted a slight pink, and her lips looked drier and more cracked. Natasha also noticed that Yelena was doing her best to cover as much skin as possible, given that the blanket was also covering her ears. She took the blanket and lowered it a bit and noticed her ears also had a slight pink tint to them.

The sudden movement of exposing her ear out caused Yelena to start to stir. The teeth chattering quieted a bit as Yelena stuck a hand out from under the covers barely to wipe her eye. As she slowly opened them, she was met with emerald-like greens staring back at her. Rather than getting startled by it like she normally would, she just lay there with a cute dopey grin plastered on her face.

“Mm morning sestra” Yelena mumbled out. Natasha would normally find the sentiment endearing and savor the moment of Yelena being sweet and not mischievous. But right now, she was way more concerned with Yelena’s state as being the culprit to this niceness.

Natasha’s eyes softened a bit as she reached to brush a strand of hair out of Yelena’s face. Her hand jolted a bit when she felt Yelena’s cheek. Yelena was too out of it to notice the sudden movement, thankfully.

“Morning, sestrichka” Natasha leaned her face in and planted a kiss onto her sister’s forehead. She felt as Yelena leaned into the touch and let out a very soft moan of satisfaction.

However, as Natasha pulled away she had a look of concern on her face.

“Yelena, you’re burning up.”

Yelena crinkled her face in confusion, but there was nothing but sincere worry behind her sister’s eyes.

“No way, I’ve been freezing my ass off since earlier this morning,” Yelena responded back. Natasha took in the sound of her voice a lot better now and noticed that she sounded more raspy than usual as well.

“You have a fever.”

Yelena wrinkled her nose a bit. Her golden green eyes looking more bloodshot than if she were just sleep deprived.

“Bah, I don’t get sick, I’m made of ma..mar..” Yelena started to stray off as her face contorted, Natasha’s eyes widened a bit as she went to duck down from being right in her face.

Luckily though, Yelena managed to cover her face with the blanket before she sprayed everywhere anyway.

“Achoo! Marble.” Yelena sniffled after, noting how clogged her nostrils felt. She hated the feeling.

Natasha came back up to her face, noticing how red her nose really looked now, she raised an eyebrow at her. Yelena just casted her gaze downward.

“Ok, maybe I’m a little sick.”

“No shit.”

Yelena slightly pouted. She hated being sick. Even as a child she hated the feeling of being all stuffed up and having to constantly blow her nose. It became even worse after being sent to the Red Room though. Anytime she got sick she had to just suck it up. If anyone caught her slacking just because she wasn’t feeling good there’s a good chance she would’ve been disposed of. So she mustered all her strength and powered through. Nobody understood why on some occasions the normal training regimens would suddenly make her throw up, but they didn’t question it, nor did they really care.

But now she was out, and everything that she had taught herself for survival was slowly but surely dissipating. However, having to go through those tactics for so long definitely had an impact on her, and it was rather difficult to unlearn them, especially in such a short time. Natasha had the same struggles when she got out and defected, but she’s had much more time to unlearn those tactics. She had Clint to thank mostly for that.

But Yelena had just gotten out, after being there for over 20 years, and Natasha knew that it was going to take time for her to unlearn what she was taught. She would be there every step of the way though.

But right now, she was just being stubborn.

Natasha started to get up and Yelena flashed her a quick look of panic as she disappeared from her view.

“Where are you going?” She whined a little. Natasha simply walked over to the other side of the bed and grabbed the top of the covers.

“You need to break that fever so you should probably lose some layers.” Natasha states. Before Yelena can react, she feels the covers being swiftly yanked off of her. Natasha took the covers in her hands, quickly balling them up and disposing of them onto the floor out of Yelena’s reach.

Yelena’s eyes widen as she starts to curl in on herself, feeling the chill tenfold as more of her skin was exposed. Natasha felt bad watching as her little sister was clearly in distress, but she knew she had to in order for her to break that fever faster.

Yelena’s teeth start to chatter again as she moved to cross her arms over her body and bend her legs up toward her chest, trying to preserve as much body heat as she could manage.

As Natasha moved back over to the side of the bed she noticed the clothes that Yelena was wearing. She slightly smirked a bit at the sight.

“Is that my hoodie?”

Yelena looked up from her curled up ball position to see her sister smirking a little with her arms crossed and a slightly bemused look on her face.

“I told you I got cold.” She deadpanned as Natasha noticed her also wearing a pair of sweats, two articles of clothing that she never slept in because she would normally get too hot.

That told her everything she needed to know.

Natasha let out a sigh as she went over to sit down next to her sister on the other side of the bed. She placed a hand on her shivering sister and started rubbing her back very gently. Yelena’s shivering started to calm a little at her big sister’s healing touch.

“Sweetie, you should probably lose the hoodie too.”

Yelena’s eyes widened as she quickly flipped over to face her sister, who had a look of guilt on her face. She gave her the biggest puppy eyes and pout that Natasha had seen on her thus far.

“Please let me keep it, I’m really cold Tashka.” She begged her sister in the tiniest voice she could muster. Natasha’s heart cracked a bit at the total vulnerability, but she swallowed it down, knowing that she needed to do this in order to help her sister.

Natasha sighed in defeat as she sat up off the bed and walked toward the door, opening it and stepping out of the bedroom. Yelena sat up and watched as she exited. She was suddenly starting to feel the extent of how sick she truly was. Her entire body was wracked with aches, her head felt like a boulder had smashed into it a dozen times, and her face felt like someone was squeezing it so hard that it could pop. All of that on top of the chills.

Bottom line, she felt like total shit.

Yelena pulled her hands all the way into the sleeves of the hoodie as she sat crisscrossed on the bed, waiting for her sister to return.

Natasha returned a few minutes later with a washcloth and a bag of ice, she looked over at Yelena with pitiful eyes, taking in the horrible state her baby sister was in. Yelena’s eyes fell onto the bag of ice in her sister’s hand. She kept her eyes on her sister as she made her way over to her side, wrapping the bag of ice into the washcloth. Natasha started to run her fingers through her sister’s blonde locks, moving some out of the way to get to the back of her neck. Yelena stiffened a bit as the cold air was exposed to her skin. She felt as Natasha laid the wrapped up bag of ice onto the nape of her neck.

Yelena let out a hiss and a low groan. She started to move her hands over to try and cover her skin from the cold sensation racking through it. Natasha batted her hand away gently. Yelena then started to try and tuck her head into the hole of the hoodie like a turtle. Natasha suppressed a giggle.

“Lena, stop, you need to cool your body off,” Natasha chastised softly, trying to hide the slight smirk on her face at her sister’s childish antics.

“Like hell I do, I’m freezing not boiling!” Yelena retorted back, still trying to dodge the offending bag of ice.

“You’re freezing because you have a fever, your body is trying to regulate your temperature back to normal,” Natasha tried to explain, “I’m just trying to speed the process up a bit.”

“What you’re doing is trying to torture me!” Yelena exclaimed back in response. Natasha’s face paled a bit as she took in her words. She dropped the bag momentarily and went to grab her sister’s face gently in her hands. Yelena’s eyes softened as she stared back at her big sister’s soft features.

“Lena, I would never EVER do anything to hurt you,” Natasha told her sternly but sincerely. She felt as her sister’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, indicating that her fever was spiking instead of going down.

Natasha was really beginning to worry now. If she didn’t get Yelena’s fever down soon she was going to be in danger. It wasn’t like she could just take her to a doctor considering she was still a fugitive on the run. Besides, she knew her sister would likely fight her the entire time. Both for her stubbornness and for her fear of doctors brought on by the Red Room.

So she had to cool her back down on her own.

Natasha sat the bag down and gripped Yelena’s shoulders as she pressed her cheek against her sister’s. Yelena closed her eyes pushed into the gentle touch, relishing the feeling.

“Malyshka, you need to take the hoodie off.”

Yelena pulled her face away, she looked at her with pitiful eyes that looked like they had tiny tears in the corners of them.

“No...”

“Please I need you to trust me. Do you?” Natasha questioned with slight trepidation. Even in her sick state, Yelena could sense her sister’s hesitation and doubt seeping through her tough exterior. She raised her hand a little and caressed her sister’s cheek.

“With my life.”

Natasha exhaled sharply out her nose. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling a bit of her little sister’s comfort and reassurance. She grabbed Yelena’s hand with her own.

“Then please take it off.”

Yelena’s lip began to quiver as she slowly removed her hand and placed them both on the bottom of the hoodie. She reluctantly started tugging it upwards, her body started shaking as more skin began to become exposed. Natasha grabbed the top of the hoodie to help Yelena’s head out of the top hole. With shaky hands, Yelena managed to tug the hoodie completely off. Natasha swiftly took it and tossed it off to the side. Yelena, with her top covered in nothing but a tank now, immediately shot her arms up to cover her exposed skin as she violently started to shake. Her face was beet red as she shut her eyes tightly.

Natasha had to do something. She couldn’t stand seeing her baby sister in such a

distressing state. She started to move over to lay down. As she did, she beckoned her sister to follow.

“Come here.”

Yelena was still violently shaking but looked over and did as her sister asked. She started to crawl over to where her sister was laying, doing her best to not move her arms from across her chest. Natasha took ahold of her shoulders and helped glide her over and lay her down on her chest. Yelena opened her eyes as she felt sudden warmth radiate from the cheek that was laying on her sister’s chest. She felt her arms start to recoil and wrap themselves tightly around Natasha’s body. Natasha wrapped one of her arms around Yelena’s head and the other she used to gently rubbed her back.

Yelena’s shaking immediately started to placate, feeling a rush of warmth start to course through her being smooshed against her big sister. Natasha ran her hand through Yelena’s hair, gently scratching at her scalp every so often. Yelena hummed in contentment as her eyes started to close.

“Ya ponyal tebya, Malyshka.”

Those reaffirming words were the last ones Yelena heard as slumber took over.

—————————————————

A few hours later Yelena started to stir. She immediately noticed how she was feeling the cold mattress against her skin rather than the warmth of her sister. Yelena sat up immediately scanning for Natasha. She started to panic slightly as her eyes started darting everywhere in the room looking for any sign of her sister. Her head was beginning to get dizzy at the constant whipping back and forth, and she suddenly felt her breathing become hitched. There was no sign of her. Yelena suddenly felt helpless as tears started to form in her eyes. She was alone. She was still cold.

She wanted her sister.

Natasha walked back through the door a few minutes after and immediately spotted her sister silently weeping. She dropped the bag she was carrying and rushed right over to her side.

“Lena, are you ok? What’s wrong?” She asked in a panicked state. She cupped her hands around Yelena’s face. She observed how her sisters breathing was a bit hitched and started to piece together why she was so emotional.

“You weren’t here.” Yelena whispered brokenly, sniffling a little. Natasha wrapped her arms around her baby sister, resting her chin on the top of Yelena’s head.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could slip out and get back before you woke up,” Natasha apologized to her. Yelena still felt really warm against her skin. She wasn’t shivering quite as intensely as before, which Natasha took as a good sign. But she still very obviously had a fever.

When she felt Yelena’s breathing start to return to normal, Natasha unwrapped herself to retrieve the contents she had thrown onto the ground in a panic to console her. Yelena watched with curiosity as she pulled one of the contents out of the bag. As soon as she spotted the offending bottle, her face crinkled in disgust.

“No.”

“Yelena.”

“Don’t ‘Yelena’ me! I’m not drinking that crap!”

Natasha sighed a bit as she held the bottle of liquid medicine in her hand. She knew from the minute she picked it up that there was gonna be a fight. No matter, she was gonna take it regardless.

Natasha sat the bottle on the dresser and sat down on the bed in front of Yelena. Her arms were crossed in a very defensive position, much like a child pouting.

“Lena, I know you aren’t a fan of drinking medicine, but it was all they had that would help with all of your symptoms.” Natasha tried to soothe her. She placed a hand on Yelena’s cheek, which she leaned into heavily.

“Still no.”

Natasha sighed a bit, but then smirked. She came prepared.

“I thought you might say that.”

She got up and went back over to the bag and pulled out the other content. Yelena’s eyes fell on a sight much more beautiful. Natasha’s smirk grew as she pulled out a full size Snickers bar. She watched as Yelena’s eyes bulged, slightly chuckling at the reaction.

“Thought I might sweeten the deal for you,” Natasha said with a straight face. Yelena wrinkled her nose a bit at the pun but giggled in spite of herself.

“That was terrible.”

“Whatever.”

Yelena rolled her eyes but reached her arm out to try and grab the candy. Natasha moved it out of her reach swiftly.

“Ah ah, first you take the medicine.”

Yelena pulled her arm back and looked up at Natasha with her infamous pout. Natasha just scoffed.

“That’s not gonna work on me.” She told her still holding the candy bar out of her reach. Yelena sat back and crossed her arms.

“Whatever, I can just take it.”

Natasha snorted and quickly covered her mouth, Yelena narrowed her eyes in challenge.

“You can certainly try,” Natasha challenged.

Yelena went to stand and lunge for the bar. Natasha just stood still and placed it behind her back. She witnessed her baby sister wobbling as she approached her with predatory eyes. When she went to lunge, she simply fell right into Natasha, who caught her with her free arm.

Yelena wiggled out and tried to reach behind her sister, who simply sidestepped. Natasha kept her arm wrapped around her sister, chuckling slightly.

“Yelena, sit back down before you hurt yourself,” Natasha scolded lightly. However, her sister persisted. Natasha took matters into her own hands and guided her back over to the bed. Yelena, in her sick state, simply fell right onto the mattress, having exhausted what little energy she had out of her body. Natasha set the bar down onto the dresser and pulled out a spoon. She sat on the bed crossing her legs and poured a generous amount of the liquid medicine onto the spoon. Yelena eyed her with intensity.

“If you won’t take it willingly, I’ll just feed it to you,” Natasha simply stated. Yelena’s mouth gaped a bit in offense.

“I’m not a baby!” She protested.

“Really, you sure are acting like one.” Natasha replied back with a slight tease in her tone. She started to move the spoon over toward Yelena’s face. Yelena in response closed her mouth as tightly as she could, not having any intent of that spoon finding its way in.

“Yelena come on, it’s one swallow and you’re done. Please?” Natasha pleaded with her, starting to grow a little impatient. Yelena simply just stuck her tongue out and immediately pulled it back into her mouth, closing it off again completely. Natasha gave her an unamused look.

“Real mature.”

Yelena smirked a bit, a little too pleased with herself. Natasha tried moving the spoon over to her mouth and she simply turned her head away from it.

“Yelena, open your mouth.”

“Mm mm”

“Yelena.”

“Make me.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes a bit at the challenge. She cast her daze downward a bit before smirking herself. Yelena kept her eyes focused on her sister, scanning for any kind of possible trick up her sleeve.

“Alright, you win.”

Natasha simply moved over to the side. Yelena kept a very strong gaze on her, not trusting that she was truly accepting defeat. If there was one thing she knew better than anyone, it was to never underestimate Natasha Romanoff.

Yelena furrowed her brow as her sister scooted over close to her, their shoulders brushing a bit. Natasha has an unreadable expression on her face, which annoyed Yelena to no end. However, after a few beats of silence, Natasha finally cocked her head a bit to the side and gave her sister a tiny little smile. Yelena melted a little and very briefly let her guard down to smile back. Natasha immediately turned her head back, facing forward completely.

“Pockets are overrated.”

Yelena immediately snapped her head up and her jaw practically hit the floor. Her eyes as wide as saucers as she glared at her sister.

“WHAT!?”

In a swift motion, Natasha lunged the spoon still full of medicine directly into Yelena’s mouth, moving a hand to cover it before she had a chance to spit it out. Yelena gagged as she forcibly swallowed the liquid down. She cringed as it burned going down her throat.

Natasha smiled wryly, tilting her head a bit as she waved the now empty spoon in the air slightly. “Thank you for your cooperation, sestrichka.”

“Ack! Blech!! Are you insane?! You could’ve killed me!!” Yelena screamed out, gagging at the lingering taste in her mouth.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Natasha told her, putting the spoon away with the medicine. Yelena narrowed her eyes, still coughing a little.

“It tastes like spoiled cherries and crushed dreams.” She whimpered out.

“I know it’s not that tasty, but it’ll make you feel better.” Natasha stated. Yelena looked over at her with betrayal in her eyes. She pouted again.

“That was a very mean trick.”

“You’re fine.”

“Cyka.”

Natasha rolled her eyes as she got up off the bed and headed over to the dresser, she picked up the candy bar and pretended to inspect it, turning it around multiple times. She pulled her eyes back up to her baby sister that looked like she was about to pounce again.

“You know, I’m not quite sure you deserve this,” Natasha expressed with way too much mirth and mischief.

“What?! I took the stupid medicine like you asked!” Yelena exclaimed.

“True but you fought me the whole time and then you called me a bitch so…” Natasha continued as she started to peel some of the wrapper.

“Ok ok! I’m sorry.” Yelena apologized quickly. Natasha gave an amused chuckle at her baby sisters frantic and desperate state, knowing she wasn’t going to actually not give it to her but thought she still deserved a little payback.

“Alright fine, I guess I’ll show you pity since you’re ill,” Natasha contended as she graciously tossed the bar onto the bed right in front of Yelena. Yelena leaped at it, grabbing it with both and hands wasting no time tearing the plastic off. Natasha went and sat on the edge of the bed, watching with pure adoration as her baby sister tore into the snickers bar, a look of absolute euphoria on her face.

“How is it?” She asked gently.

Yelena looked up at her from her chewing, their eyes reciprocating the same love and adoration radiating off of each other.

“It’s good. Really moist.”

“Yea well that’s what candy tastes like that isn’t 5 years old.” Natasha responded with playfulness. Natasha scooted over a bit to sit right next to her sister. Yelena leaned her head onto her shoulder as she continued to savor her treat. Natasha cocked her head a bit and placed a tiny kiss onto the top of Yelena’s head before moving her own to rest on top of it. She wrapped her arm around Yelena, beckoning her to move closer. Yelena obliged and scooted a little bit further into her. Natasha sighed in contentment.

“Can I have a bite?” Natasha asked teasingly.

“Nah. Get your own.”

Natasha gasped in mock offense, moving her head away a little to face her sister, definitely noting the shit eating grin on her face.

“Hey! I paid for it!”

“And then you gave it to me so it’s mine now.” Yelena replied cheekily. Natasha shoved her shoulder playfully, being mindful to not shove too hard knowing her body was probably still weak.

“You little brat, I’ll remember that next time you ask for something of mine.”

Yelena giggled at her sister’s reaction, knowing that she was just messing with her. Natasha moved both of them to the headrest and laid her back against the board, while Yelena’s was mostly leaned into her body.

Yelena finished the bar and did end up leaving the last tiny piece for her sister. She claimed that “she was full” which Natasha knew was obvious bs but went along with it anyway. The two sisters laid there together in contentment as Yelena was starting to drift off ti sleep again. Natasha grabbed her head gently in her hands and moved it onto the pillow before placing her own head right next to her sister’s. She draped one arm over Yelena as she snuggled her as close as she could as she was starting to feel a bit groggy herself. She could still feel the heat radiating off of Yelena’s body but for the first time that day she was not shivering.

———————————————————————

A few hours later Natasha started to stir, and the first thing she noticed was her arm was drenched in sweat. Disgusted a bit, she pulled her arm back and immediately noticed how Yelena’s body was covered in sweat. Natasha felt her heart start to flutter a bit as she went to place another kiss to her sisters forehead and, to her utmost relief, Yelena’s temperature was normal again. She leaned her face against her sister’s, not caring about the sweat anymore, and relished in the sound of her baby sister’s breathing.

Yelena started to stir as well and felt the pressure of her sister’s face smooshed against her own. She gazed upward with a tiny smile.

“I’m not cold anymore.”

“Your fever broke.”

“Is that why I’m drenched in sweat?” Yelena took in how sticky she felt, she motioned to sit up and Natasha moved over so she could. Yelena started wiping her hand across her arms trying to get some of the sweat off. Natasha sat up with her head propped up on one elbow, her immense grin not leaving her face.

“How are you feeling?” She questioned Yelena.

“Still a little sore but nowhere near as bad as before.” Yelena responded. Natasha got up and went to fetch her a towel to dry off some of the sweat. When she returned Yelena was sitting up crisscrossed on the bed and she was very thankful to see that Yelena’s color had come back to her face. Her nose was still a little red but her eyes didn’t look near as puffy as they had earlier. Natasha felt a wave of relief wash over her as she made her back over to the bed and started dabbing the towel on Yelena’s back and forehead, getting as much sweat off as she could.

“Ty istselil menya, sestra” Yelena whispered as she leaned her head back a bit. Natasha froze for a moment as her heart swelled so unbelievably as she took in her baby sister’s sentiment. She placed the towel down as cupped her hands around Yelena’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“Ya sdelayu vse dlya vas, moya sestrichka.”

Translation

Ya ponyal tebya, Malyshka- I’m right here, babygirl

Ty istselil menya, sestra- you healed me, sister

Ya sdelayu vse dlya vas, moya sestrichka- I’d do anything for you, my baby sister

[the-widow-sisters]

Let Me Take Care of You

Summary: When Yelena wakes up feeling less than wonderful, she tries to hide it from Natasha. However, Natasha quickly catches on, and Yelena has no choice but to allow her big sister to take care of her.

Word Count: 2798

  There were two certainties in Yelena’s world. The first of which was that sour cream and onion chips were the love of any normal human’s life.

  The second? Yelena Belova absolutely despised being sick.

  The moment she had woken up that morning, she was colder than normal, and she noticed that she just had that cruddy feeling that generally came upon her as she started to get sick. She had actually managed to wake up before Natasha, which was something that she was immensely thankful for.

  She had carefully eased out of the bed, intending to leave Natasha there for a while until she could hopefully contain her sickness. She knew precisely how Natasha would likely react, and she was hoping to put off that reaction for a while. After all, Natasha freaked out anytime that Yelena was even remotely injured, so Yelena could naturally imagine her precise reaction to sickness.

  She had thrown on sweatpants and one of Natasha’s hoodies. She knew that this attire would likely give herself away, but she was a little cold and she had to at least somewhat comfortably be able to exist with this chill.

  She was starting to rummage through the cabinets for something good to eat that would hopefully make her feel better when she heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. She winced, really dreading the conversation that was no doubt about to ensue.

  “Good morning,” Natasha greeted, coming up beside her and bumping her shoulder slightly with her own. She reached for a mug in the cabinet, withdrawing a cup and filling it with coffee.

  “Morning,” Yelena replied, hoping and praying that she sounded at least halfway normal and not like the sick person that she knew she was.

  Unfortunately, Natasha seemed to catch on quickly, because her gaze lingered as she passed Yelena and sat her mug on the kitchen table after getting a sip of it.

  “Are you okay? You never wake up this early,” Natasha pointed out, and Yelena just kept looking through the cabinets, not wanting to answer but knowing she had to think of something rather quickly.

  “Yeah, I just happened to get up early today. I don’t know,” Yelena shrugged, trying to look more casual than she actually felt. She could feel Natasha’s stare on her back.

  “Why are you wearing a hoodie and sweatpants?” Natasha questioned, and Yelena chuckled a little, knowing she had been caught but refusing to admit it.

  “Someone woke up and chose suspicion… It was cold earlier this morning,” Yelena informed her, hoping that Natasha had not woken up when Yelena got out of the bed. If she had not, then she would not know just how early Yelena had awoken.

  “You’re never cold unless it’s like forty-something degrees outside. What’s going on?” Natasha asked, her voice more insistent, and Yelena shook her head, glancing back in Natasha’s direction.

  “Natashka, please. I am fine,” Yelena assured her, halfheartedly waving away Natasha’s concern. She was fine despite the fact that she did not feel so good and was a little bit chilly at the moment. Natasha was simply overreacting.

  Yelena suddenly heard swift footsteps approaching her from behind. Yelena furrowed her brow, looking behind her, and she suddenly found her sister standing close to her and almost pinning her between her body and the counter. Yelena just looked at her as if she lost her mind, and Natasha reached her hand out to grab the back of Yelena’s neck and pull her head against the redhead’s lips. Natasha gently kissed her forehead, and Yelena closed her eyes, enjoying the affection despite her suspicion that it was for reasons more than just wanting to show love.

  “You have a fever,” Natasha acknowledged, speaking against Yelena’s skin, and Yelena groaned, moving her head away from Natasha.

  “Do not be ridiculous,” Yelena replied, resuming her rummaging through the cabinets. She pursed her lips, aggravated with not finding any food there. She then moved to the refrigerator, opening it. As soon as the cold air came flushing out, she immediately shivered.

  The moment that it happened, she knew that she should not have let that reaction show. She was not naïve enough to think that Natasha had not noticed, but she was certainly hoping she had not.

  However, as soon as she felt warm arms pull her into an even warmer body, she knew the redhead had seen it. She almost whined as she realized that her skin hurt. She desperately wanted the contact that her sister was offering since she was indeed not feeling well, but the pain radiating where her clothes were brushing against her skin was less than pleasant.

  “My skin hurts,” Yelena murmured a little, reciprocating Natasha’s embrace. Natasha immediately loosened her hold and started to let go of her. Yelena just clung onto her more tightly, and Natasha returned the hug hesitantly, her arms much gentler than before.

  “Why don’t you go get into bed?” Natasha asked softly, and Yelena shook her head, feeling a wave of irrational irritation wash over her. She did not need to go to bed, and she was perfectly fine.

  “I am not that sick,” Yelena informed her, her tone miffed as she pulled away from Natasha a little, a wave of pain washing over her from the shifting of her clothes. Natasha just quirked an eyebrow, staring at Yelena. Yelena just stubbornly stared back at her.

  However, before she knew it, Natasha surged forward and threw her over her shoulder. Yelena immediately cried out in indignation as Natasha repositioned her slightly with a grunt. She then started to haul her across the house. Yelena immediately contemplated pulling a countermove to reground herself on the floor where she should have been, but she did not particularly have the energy to, so she settled for just yelling at Natasha.

  “Hey! Put me down! Don’t I get a say in this?!” Yelena demanded, her accent growing thicker as she grew more incensed. Natasha just shook her head, patting Yelena’s leg gently from where her hand was locked around it.

  “No. So you might as well just get comfortable,” Natasha replied, a steeliness in her voice that Yelena honestly did not really feel like challenging as she usually would have. Yelena just grumbled under her breath and tried to ignore how she liked being carried by her big sister and how it made her feel safe.

  Natasha started to cross through the doorway to her bedroom and Yelena threw her hands out, grabbing onto the doorway with only a partial grip. Natasha paused for a moment before yanking at her hard and successfully dislodging Yelena’s hold.

  Yelena just sighed in resignation, looking around the redhead’s room and the space that was so intensely populated by everything Natasha. She had to admit that it brought a strangely significant amount of comfort to her.

  She was swiftly pulled away from this train of thought when she was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. She blinked in surprise before narrowing her eyes in a glare. Natasha just raised an eyebrow and just watched her as if she were just daring her to try to get off of the bed. If the mattress was not so comfortable and it did not smell so much like Natasha, she might have tried to give a little bit of a fight.

  Yelena quickly felt another chill run through her as the coolness of the blankets seeped through her clothes. She crossed her arms, trying to avoid the shivers that were threatening to overtake her. Natasha bent down so she could hover over Yelena and press her forehead against the blonde’s. Yelena closed her eyes, enjoying the contact.

  “Stay here,” Natasha told her in a manner that was more of a command than anything, and Yelena groaned, reopening her eyes. Natasha eyed her fondly before getting up and heading into the other room. Yelena frowned, realizing that she was even colder than before, and she curled into a ball.

  After a moment of trying to collect warmth from that position, she finally managed to get enough motivation to crawl underneath the covers. She submerged herself so deeply into them that only her nose and eyes were poking out when she was through, and she somewhat painfully noted that the blankets did nothing good for her pained skin.

  For a while, she impatiently waited on Natasha, her mind wondering what in the world could be taking Natasha so long. She aggravatedly stared at the door wishing that by willpower alone, she could drag her sister inside the room with her.

  While Yelena would definitely deny it if asked— after all, she was not that sick yet— she definitely did not feel good at all and wanted Natasha there to just snuggle with her and keep her warm.

  At some point, Yelena must have dozed off, because she suddenly opened her eyes and realized that Natasha was leaning over her, looking terribly concerned. Yelena also realized that she felt even colder, and she balled in on herself, trying to curl up more tightly.

  “No, no, no, come on, sweet girl. I know you’re cold, but we have to get this fever down,” Natasha explained, and Yelena furrowed her brow, not liking the guilty tone Natasha was carrying in her voice.

  Natasha peeled the covers off of her and Yelena immediately clung to herself tighter, trying to shield her body from the cold.

  “Rooskaya, come on, we’ve got to change your clothes into something cooler,” Natasha explained, and Yelena just opened her eyes barely to glare at her in the middle of her freezing fest. Natasha had a tank top in her hands and shorts, and Yelena’s eyes widened as she realized precisely what getting the fever down entailed.

  “Have you lost your mind?! I’m not wearing that! It is like tundra in here!” Yelena proclaimed somewhat hysterically, sputtering as her teeth chattered. Natasha shook her head, regret and pain in her gaze.

  “Yelena, please. It’s the least drastic way to try to get rid of the fever,” Natasha told her, and Yelena shook her head, definitely not wanting to do it. Natasha sighed deeply before carefully yet forcefully pulling off Yelena’s hoodie. Yelena almost whimpered in protest as she removed it and as soon as the cold air hit her bra-clad torso, she yelped.

  She immediately felt Natasha’s warm hand against the skin of her back in a comforting touch, and Natasha quickly pulled Yelena’s sweatpants away. Yelena whined, and she could not even curse herself for sounding so pathetic because of the intense chill that was washing over her.

  “Okay, raise your arms,” Natasha gently told her, and Yelena painedly followed her sister’s instructions, hating the way that the cold penetrated the undersides of her arms as she lifted. Natasha slid the tank top over her and quickly took her ankle, pulling her over so that she could start sliding the shorts on.

  Once Natasha had helped her into the new outfit, Yelena was shivering uncontrollably. She was extremely thankful as soon as Natasha slid onto the bed next to her. She quickly scooted over next to Natasha, grabbing onto her tightly and trying to tuck herself against the heat source.

  “Let’s get under the blankets,” Yelena pleaded, and Natasha shook her head.

  “You’ve got to cool down first,” Natasha answered, and Yelena could hear the guilt and pure sorrow in the older woman’s voice. Natasha wrapped her arms around Yelena more fully, and Yelena pressed her head into Natasha’s neck, trying to shield herself from the freezing air surrounding them.

  She must have fallen asleep yet again because the next thing that she knew, she was being wiped down with an extremely cold washcloth that felt like it had ice in it. She scrunched her nose at the feeling and tried to pull back from Natasha’s ministrations. However, she did notice that she was not as cold as before despite the fact that her skin was still somewhat sore and the washcloth itself was freezing.

  “Your fever got worse, and you were out of it for a while. But your fever’s mostly broken now,” Natasha explained gently, and Yelena looked at her sluggishly, the sickness and her nap slowing her reactions down significantly.

  “That is not the only thing broken here,” Yelena indignantly declared, her voice slurring just a bit from her sleep and lacking its usual strength. Natasha glanced up at her with worry in her eyes, and Yelena huffed slightly.

  “You have broken my spirit with your cruelty,” Yelena informed her hoarsely, once again shrinking away from the rag that was drawing nearer to her. Natasha quickly narrowed her eyes, seemingly realizing that Yelena was just being dramatic.

  “How do you feel?” Natasha finally questioned, taking away the rag and holding it in her hands as she eyed the blonde. Yelena groaned, trying to assess her current condition.

  “Ugh… my skin is sore and I’m a little cold but it’s not that bad,” Yelena expressed, and Natasha seemed to accept this answer as she stood up carefully.

  “You think you feel up to eating something?” Natasha asked, her eyes locked onto Yelena’s, and Yelena shrugged with a small nod, figuring that it would be nice to have something in her stomach. Natasha nodded in reply, squeezing Yelena’s knee gently before starting to head out of the room. She paused in the doorway for just a moment, her eyes carefully settled on Yelena’s form, and she finally went out the door.

  After a few moments, Natasha returned with a steaming bowl of soup. Yelena started to reach out for it, but Natasha clicked her tongue in a scold as she sat down on the edge of the bed and faced Yelena, the soup sitting carefully between her legs as she held it in place. Yelena gazed at her quizzically, wondering what Natasha was doing as she stirred the contents of the bowl.

  To her pure surprise, Natasha withdrew a spoonful of the soup and held it out to Yelena. Yelena just stared at her incredulously.

  “I can feed myself, you know,” Yelena informed her, but the look in Natasha’s eyes told Yelena that this was not going to be negotiable. Yelena sighed deeply before opening her mouth and accepting the spoon. Natasha gently took the spoon from her mouth, Yelena’s lips sliding along it to rake any of the food off. Natasha then proceeded to ready another spoonful whenever Yelena was ready.

  As much as Yelena loathed to admit it, it felt really nice to be pampered by her sister. She liked having her independence and freedom, but she also really reveled in the amount of care that Natasha was offering her. It made her feel loved and, most of all, safe.

  “I… I was worried about you,” Natasha admitted very quietly after several minutes of silence and multiple spoons fed to Yelena. Yelena’s eyes immediately snapped to Natasha’s face. Natasha was not looking at her and instead focusing on the soup bowl she had, stirring it as she readied another bit for Yelena to have. Yelena felt her heart melt and the smallest bits of tear prickling at her gaze. She somewhat weakly held out her hand, and Natasha looked up at her before quickly holding the appendage.

  “I’m sorry,” Yelena apologized somewhat thickly, and the weight of the words encompassed not just her sentiment about worrying her older sister, but also the pain in the butt that she had been when she had first gotten home earlier.

  Natasha’s eyes softened and she moved the bowl over to the nightstand nearby. She then crawled forward and placed her elbows on either side of Yelena to support herself. She then kissed Yelena’s cheeks before resting her forehead on Yelena’s shoulder. Her hands came up to gently squeeze the sides of Yelena’s neck affectionately.

  “Don’t be sorry. I love you, and any time you’re not feeling well, I get worried. It’s not your fault,” Natasha expressed, and Yelena let out a deep breath, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of Natasha near her as she raised her arms and wrapped them around Natasha’s waist. Her hold was loose at first, but she quickly tightened her grip and Natasha’s weight dropped onto her. Natasha grunted a little in surprise, but went with it, not questioning it as she just allowed herself to embrace the younger woman more deeply.

  “I love you, too,” Yelena muttered under her breath, and Natasha pressed a kiss to Yelena’s shoulder where her face was currently squished against the blonde. Yelena could not help but allow her entire body to relax, that feeling of safety washing over her.

  She hated being sick, but she could get used to this feeling.

[builder051]

Broken homes make for wandering hearts, Part I

Chasing ghosts. This is the ‘introduction-of-Yelena-as-a-side-character’ fic. :)

Warnings for implications of child abuse (verbal, physical, possibly sexual)/bad childhood/bad foster system/child institutionalization/children’s needs not met—all of this in the past/behind the scenes, drug use, alcohol use, illness & injury, underage partying, addiction, and my terrible habit of giving Steve pet hobbies (in this case, Oscar junkie)

I know, this is so annoying, but I’m breaking this into 2 parts. It came to a natural pause today, and I really want to get what I have out there to you guys, the audience, who’s been anxiously awaiting the arrival of this story. Please leave me feedback if you like where I’m going and if you’re interested in hearing more. I’m eager to continue, especially if you’re interested in reading more.

_______________________________

The fact that it’s after midnight and Tasha still isn’t home is not a situation to stress over. It may be her unenforcible curfew for weeknights, but a few minutes past… James is willing to shrug it off. He and Steve are still comfortable on the living room couch, half an hour left on their documentary.

At one in the morning, after they’ve very slowly unloaded the dishwasher, Steve meanders back to the couch. He rattles the last few popcorn kernels left in the bowl they’d abandoned earlier, tips his head to the side, and suggests they cross another Oscar hopeful off their list.

James sighs. Tries loosening one of the hard shells jammed between his molars. He meets Steve’s eyes. “You got documentaries covered. So… Short films?”

“Mm…”. Steve uses his phone to flip through the TV menu. He’s a serious steward of the reapings, whatever he can get from their strategic six-month trials and student discounts.

James checks his phone as well. For messages. Texts. Amber alerts. Anything. The screen is blank, though, and he reminds himself that Tasha’s been eighteen for nearly a year now. Doesn’t stop him from still thinking of her as a kid.

“I got animated,” Steve announces.

“Shorts?” James asks, without looking up.

“Nah, just features. We still haven’t watched—“

“If that’s the one with fucking Bruno…”. James lets out his breath and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He makes a fist and uses his knuckles to scrub the edge of his eye socket. “I don’t think I can hang for that.”

“Well, nobody fucks Bruno,” Steve posits. “It earned it’s nom, fair and square.”

“Sounds like you’ve already seen it.”

“Well,” Steve starts, pulling the brightly colored splash screen up, almost like a threat. “You have to watch at least 20 minutes of each film in order to vote. That’s how it works with the Academy. That’s the rule.”

“Sooo.” James brings his hand down below his unevenly shaven chin. “Twenty minutes till I call the cops on Tash?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Steve nods. He accepts James’s wary attempt at eye contact, but then leaves the action firmly where it is. He shuffles the popcorn woebegones again. “Want some more? Or should I just toss it?”

“I’ve had enough,” James says. “If you want some, just make for you. If Tasha’s within a three mile radius, she might smell the butter and come flop head-first into your lap.” He grins sharply.

“Eh, wouldn’t be the first time.” Steve dumps out his bowl, starts up the microwave, then gazes fixedly into the spice cabinet, as if all of it is just one smooth routine. He used to be so anxious, so un-used to things going wrong. James has thoroughly broken him of that, and he can’t quite tell if it’s for better or for worse.

Steve’s still himself, surely, 100%, but now he has more… what to call it… Street cred? Traditional students or non, it still floors James that people come to college without knowing how to babysit a drunk. He was doing that at… well, that’s probably what was against the law and what got him brought into care, so… maybe he shouldn’t go down that road. Not tonight, anyway.

“Did Tash tell you where she was headed tonight?” James asks, separating a few stacks of random books and homework that have collected on the kitchen table.

“Does she ever?” Steve shakes his head.

“But, like, a party? Or a club? Because clubs close at, I don’t know.” It’s just now 1:30. “Now? Ish?”

“Depends on the venue.” Steve twists his mouth to the side. “If you’re getting real picky, the ones who admit under 21s usually kick them out at midnight. Last call for the bigs is…like, two?”

“Yeah, that’s why I like her home at midnight.” As he rounds the table, James brushes lightly against the wall. Unable to tell if the ensuing sensation is the vibration of a text message or the just crisp meeting of denim and ugly paint, he reaches again for his phone. Again he is disappointed.

“Does she have a fake?” Steve asks. He collects the popcorn from the microwave and stuffs a few strays directly into his mouth.

“No,” James says. “She’s a nuisance, is what she is. Barnacle onto somebody and get treated as VIP. Walk in through the exit and she was there the whole time. Beg the bouncer. Blow the bouncer. Give some little sparkly gummy bears to the bouncer.” James shakes his head. “We really should go out with her more, just to see what she comes up with—“

A strange electronic beep sounds. One long, loud un harmonious note. It separates into two tones as it processes in James’s hearing aids- a like a cat shrieking from the same alley as the strange trumpet.

James looks around, confused. He points to the microwave, but Steve shakes his head. It’s cycle is finished, and it’s powered off. The oven is off. The smoke detector isn’t flashing.

The electronic beep sounds again. Then, in a wildly amplified and crackly voice, “Can, can you guys hear me?”

It seems to be coming out of the wall.

James realizes what it is, but the moment he relaxes, new tension mounts with the knowledge that he doesn’t recognize the cool Russian accent behind words. Obviously they’ve never met, otherwise she’d have used other means to get ahold of him rather than the doorbell. Now that he thinks about it, James isn’t sure whoever-it-is is here to see him. She could want Steve. James glances his way, but he seems just as, if not more, confused.

None of them are good with spooks. Voices without faces. Promises without end dates. Signed papers that aren’t dated, witnessed, and notarized. It’s not like everything in life requires material evidence or proof of existence. But it could. James was raised on the threat of it. Even Steve, who just likes his stability, shouldn’t have to endure—

Ok. It’s a voice. On the doorbell. James takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. He hurries to find the button on the entryway wall beside the light switch. He hopes it works like a walkie-talkie. “Um.” He swallows. “Yeah? I hear you?”

James lets go of the button. That’s how you hear the other person, right? Do you have to say “over?” There’s a beat of silence, during which James’s palm begins to sweat. He’s established contact. That’s it. There’s a long way to go before they’re in trouble. James scans around in the corners of his mind for any lingering essentials from his hostage negotiations seminar. It was an essential course before he shipped off. All he can recall now is to be generally un insulting. The welfare of the people. Don’t say ‘fault.’

“Is this James Barnes? On the third floor?” The female voice asks. Her tone is inquisitive. Slightly demanding. Clipped, maybe? Definitely Eastern bloc.

What she’s asking is technically public information, so James will do no good by denying it. “Yes,” he says. He lets go of the button and looks quickly toward Steve. Perhaps a little politeness would serve him well. “May I help you?”

“Can you buzz me in?” The voice gets louder, then softer, as if she’s having trouble staying close to the microphone. “Your sister,” she says, giving a little huffing breath, “She doesn’t have a key to the big gate, the one out front, and the code, she’s messed it up too many times for it to let her in. So, we’re kind of stuck.”

“Christ.” James rests his forehead against the wall. He shuts his eyes. It’s his little sister all over, climbing onto a stranger and forgetting how to get home. It’s a cheap scam all over as well, and he knows it. Steve knows it. Tasha knows it. Or she’s supposed to. She did, when she was 10 and they took their first little self-defense class at the Y and learned how to not be abducted by a stranger. You know, don’t take candy from unknown people? Except for when they change your worker without telling you, and then the stranger giving you your Valentine’s Day gift bag gets mad at you when you don’t take it right away, and they sign you up for extra therapy because obviously you aren’t exhibiting acceptable social skills.

“Ok…”. James has lived in terrorist captivity. He’s been through Army basic. He’s had a nurse attempt to take blood pressure on an arm that isn’t there. He can assume Tash hitched a ride with a foreign exchange student, and settle things for the night. Or he can beat up whomever has kidnapped her. He hasn’t put on pajamas yet, and he’s pretty sure Steve can hook him up with red pepper flakes as a decent weapon.

James pokes the doorbell button. “Alright. I hear you.” He pauses. “Gotta clear some stuff up first.”

“O…K..?” The reply sounds half annoyed, half confused.

“I mean, you’ve been told to be safe around strangers and stuff, right?” James cocks an eyebrow, even though nobody can see him. The words continue to slip out of him, unedited and meandering. “You’re supposed to be careful when your party friend is like, come home and meet my brother. You don’t want to get hurt.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” The accented voice goes a little quieter.

James is willing to admit, he walked right into that one. “No,” he says. “I’m not. Put Tasha on, please. I’d like to speak to my sister.”

“What, you don’t want to talk to me anymore?”

“No, not really,” James says truthfully. “Can you please put my sister on?”

“What is your sister’s name?” The voice asks, almost playfully.

“What?” James scrunches up his face, taken aback. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Tell me her name.” The voice hitches, like it’s making a little laugh. “Then tell me my name.”

“Is this a joke? Do you want me to call the cops?”

Steve leaves his popcorn and appears behind James’s shoulder, waving his phone and also pointing at the door. James puts up his arm to keep him from jumping into action too quickly. Something about this situation doesn’t feel right; James just can’t put his finger on it quite yet.

“Do you not recognize me?” The voice implores innocently. “Did you forget all about me? Jamie?” There’s a pause. “Brother?

“…shit…”. James counts backward in his head. He was a teenager, so she was… one of those upper-graders who liked to pretend they didn’t still belong to the elementary school. But she was skinny and compact, her body athletic with a hint of farmer’s tan. She looked nine if she was a day, even when she wore shorts-alls with cutoff tank tops and smoked cigarette butts picked out of the gutter beside the playground. James remembers speeding past her on his bike, wishing his red headed little sister would quit putting on a show. She wasn’t the type for pervs, anyway. She bit people if they tried to touch her. Or anyone else she cared to protect.

James has never been able to put an age to a kid properly, most likely because he’s never been around healthy, well-adjusted kids. But sometime. Around that time. When Tash was edging into tweendom and he was getting just enough therapy to be considered not quite school-shooter-chic. Among the other nameless and faceless travelers in that group home. There had been a voice.Soft, at first. Always innocent, and entangled so delicately with the unfamiliar accent.

James was into headphones then. Doing maintenance on his bike. Discovering Iron Maiden. Reading the ingredients on the back of the mouthwash before either swigging it, or taking his chances with a beer from the fridge in the garage. But he also did his homework. Earned all the possible medals in the school’s D.A.R.E. program, won a cheap prize, and was told he was rude when he suggested they take a look at the grammar mistakes in their own title. Stuff that didn’t come up past his elbows… didn’t quite make James’s radar. Which is probably why Tasha’s wild curly head was always bouncing off him. And why the other one barely floats back up from memory.

She was blonde. Pale. Little. A kid. A baby. Not actually a baby, but obviously undeveloped. Or underdeveloped. James couldn’t at the time tell the difference. James wasn’t tall. Tasha definitely wasn’t tall. But that kid was tiny. Her voice was bigger than she was;she knew more words than a child that small was supposed to. Something was wrong with that. But James didn’t pry. They all had a lot of things wrong, just below the surface.

The little girl went on a top bunk somewhere in the room where Tasha slept, along with a sister or two who may or may not have been temporary. James remembers hearing them chatter through the wall when he was trying to sleep. They were in the same bed, up near the ceiling. Huddled down. Like chipmunks.

Tasha seemed to think the little girl was a chipmunk. Like a pet. Like she could train her. Explain things to her. Because that was kind of necessary, now that James really thinks back. The little girl…didn’t behave. She didn’t misbehave. She just didn’t do things. She sat at the table and picked up her fork, but didn’t put the food in her mouth. She went to the toys and stood near them and smiled, but she didn’t play. She didn’t do her schoolwork, though James could swear he saw her and Tasha picking through the dictionary and nailing every word they chose to read.

After a few weeks, James reckons, they moved her. As an ‘older kid,’ he’d been permitted to hear the longer explanation from the case worker. The little girl had more intensive care needs. She needed a specialized school. Institutionalized care. Something to do with trauma. At that age, James knew just enough about the system and weird little kids and perverts and going fucking crazy and Columbine and the Exorcist and Chuckie that he figured it was none of his business. He’d put it out of his head, and lo and behold, he’d done a good job of it, because it’s a right pain in the ass to dredge up all these years later.

Maybe his brain injury has something to do with the faulty recall. Or maybe it’s just the regular passage of time, the rewriting of his immediately accessible store of memory. What the hell is her name? The little girl… It’s on the tip of his tongue. James doesn’t know the names of half of his co-placements, and plenty of them went by borderline untraceables. Spud, B.J., Doll… “Here’s your new brother,” the mom of the moment would always say, pushing forward some awkward little kid who was more entranced by the ceiling fan than the room of available playmates. “Say hi to your little sister…”

Tasha’s always been James’s. His little sister. His in general. That other little girl… God, he has to wrack his brains. She meant something to Tasha. Taking her away was…problematic, somehow. But it blew over. They never talked about it. If there were feelings, they were never unpacked. Not with James, anyway. Not that they should have been, necessarily. James doesn’t own her. But now that he’s back there, thinking about it, that’s about the time he caught her teasing other things in the flame of her shoplifted lighter, besides just old cigarette butts. Like paper. Bits of crayon. The tips of her own knobbly fingers.

“Did you run away?” The voice on the other end of the doorbell is loud again. Enough to make James jump. “Are you giving me the silent treatment now?” She plays up her words with the verbal equivalent of a pout.

“No.” James sighs. “Just. I’m. Ok.” He struggles to find the right words. He’s still thinking hard, digging up a name, and swatting Steve’s comforting hand off his shoulder. “Put Tasha on. Let me talk to her, just so I know all this is legit. Ok?” He takes his finger off the button, but mashes it down again before really giving the chance for there to be a reply. “Then we can all come upstairs and talk this through. Safety first, then we figure this out.”

The doorbell buzzes loudly again. One of them has obviously pressed the wrong button, sounding the bell instead of the push-to-talk.

James throws his head back, his aids squealing.

“Yowza,” Steve comments. Then, “You got this, Buck? You sure?”

“Mm,” James grunts. “Yeah. Giving me a fucking headache, but…”

“Jamie?” The doorbell yowels his name, and James automatically leans in, nearly pressing his ear to the wall. Tasha’s only said one word, but he can already tell that she’s barely enunciating; she sounds watery. Sick. Drunk. Crying, probably, too.

“Yeah?” James makes his reply as short as possible so as to give her easy access to the buttons.

“It’s… raaiiinning.”

The word is too drawn out with too many vowels, and James is at a loss. He eases a sideways glance toward Steve in hopes of the possibility of a translation. He does not want to make Tasha repeat herself, not with whatever kind of situation they’ve gotten themselves into.

“Raining?” Steve whispers, exaggerating the movement of his lips. Then he tips his chin and shrugs, as if to say, ‘I did my best.’

James will take it. “Oh, no,” James says, trying to stay calm and gentle. “Are you getting wet?” He has a feeling that whatever’s coming next will insinuate that it’s his fault.

“I found our sister.” Tasha changes direction, her tone going somewhat venomous. “I need— to come—upstairs—“. Her word have stuttering pauses; she’s either crying or retching. Or maybe her teeth are chattering.

“Tash— Ok—“

But someone on the other end presses the talk button, cutting off James’s access. “See? That’s what she wants,” The Russian accent comes back on, exasperated now.

“Ok, ok—“. James’s brain is skipping, going so quickly he can’t keep track of his words anymore. “L-lane- Elaina? Is that it?” He screws up his forehead. “Elaina? Yuh-laina?”

“Oh-ho!” The voice on the other end starts to laugh. “And I thought you were going to have to ask to phone a friend.”

“Yeah, well,” James says shortly. “I didn’t.”

“Buzz us in, then.” Yelena replies in kind. “Brother.”

“Ok.” James forcefully lets go of the push-to-talk button. Then, true to his word, he presses the combination to unlock the front gate of the complex.

“What do we do now?” Steve asks, a little wary.

“Be ready for anything, I guess,” James says. He glances toward the TV, which is still advertising the delights of Encanto. “Maybe turn that off.”

Steve obliges. “Should I share my popcorn?” He fusses momentarily with the bowl.

“I’m not sure either of them know how to do that,” James confesses. “Might want to put it up.”

Steve slips the whole thing into the microwave and shuts the door. “Remind me not to turn that on.”

“Sure.” James sits down at the kitchen table, choosing the place with his back to the wall and the front door in the center of his visual field. He rests his prosthetic on the tabletop, then gently lays his arm across it.

“Is this going to be, like, a friendly thing?” Steve moves toward the table as well.

“Don’t know…”. James is reminded quite thoroughly that he has control over and only over himself. That makes him uncomfortable. That should not make him this uncomfortable. “Main goal is to get Tash into bed,” he states. “I think there’s going to be a real possibility of someone losing their mind.” James takes a breath. “And I really hope it’s not me.”

[superstringtheory]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Black Widow (Movie 2021) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alexei Shostakov | Alexi Shostakov/Melina Vostokoff Characters: Alexei Shostakov | Alexi Shostakov, Melina Vostokoff, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Yelena Belova Additional Tags: Sickfic, Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, First Time, Falling In Love, Past Abuse, Tender Sex, Slice of Life Summary:

Falling for her fake husband was never part of the plan. Then Alexei gets sick... and Melina lets her defenses down.

“Will these help?” She proffers the bottle of medicine, and Alexei reaches for it. His hand ghosts over the bottle, and Melina pulls it away.

“Wait,” she instructs him, then gets up to go get a glass of water from the bathroom and to wet a washcloth with some cool water. “How many?” she asks when she returns, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He shrugs. “Ten?”

Melina dutifully counts them out and hands them over, and Alexei swallows them in two gulps, wincing.

“Didn’t they give you… I don’t know, super-soldier pills?” Melina asks, and Alexei just looks at her, eyes hollow. Melina feels like she can see every hit he’s ever taken in that gaze, every time he’s gone down and gotten right back up.

“They didn’t give me shit,” Alexei grunts.

[mapis-putellas]

Yelena Belova/Florence Pugh masterlist

Shelter me from the cold

Don’t say I didn’t warn you

[goldenempyrean]

Hi. A request for something where both Yelena and the reader are sick.

Forever Together

〚 Notes - Just a lil Yelena fic to pass the time :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Yelena Belova x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You and Yelana are miserably sick but aleast you've got each other 〛

〚 Wordcount - 760 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Yelena was lying on her bed, feeling utterly miserable. Her head was throbbing, her throat was beyond sore, and her nose was non-stop running. She had caught what felt like the worst cold of her life and it seemed like there was no end to her discomfort. 

The discomfort only increased when there were three loud knocks echoing from her door when all she wanted to be was left alone to wallow in her pool of self-pity. She ignored them. Yet nevertheless, the knocks came again seconds later. Yelena groaned, forcing out a, “Nobody’s in right now, come back during business hours.” 

“Yelenaaaaaaa.” A familiar, albeit distorted voice whined from behind the door. 

Yelena’s eared practically perked up at the sound of it. Even if she wanted nothing more than to hide away from the world and its occupants right there, there was always one exception to this. 

“Y/N, I love you, but you can’t come in, I'm dying.” She called out, her voice breaking off into a series of raspy coughs. 

Much to her annoyance, the door clicked open, “Y/N, seriously baby, I don’t feel well, I don’t want you to catch this-“ Her voice trailed off as you shuffled into the room in your pyjamas, judging by your rather dishevelled appearance it was obvious you didn’t feel good either, “Oh.” 

With a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you slowly padded over and flopped onto the bed where Yelena had shuffled up to make room for you beside her. 

“You not feeling good either baby?” She whispered, moving some stray strands of hair out of your fever flushed face. 

You shook your head a little as you scrunched up your nose, trying to ignore the desperate itching, “Mmmhm stupid Bruce and his stupid germs.“ 

Yelena chuckled, pulling you closer into her chest - she might’ve regretted that decision though because you soon lost the battle with your nose and found yourself sneezing loudly against her shirt. 

“Eeshiew! Hh’iiishoo!” 

“Do I look like your own personal tissue?” Yelena raised her eyebrow, feigning annoyance before softening her expression as she reached over to pick up the tissue box on her nightstand, nestling it in between you, “There you go baby.” 

You sniffled and rubbed at your nose before reaching for a tissue, blowing your nose loudly. "Thanks," you muttered, leaning back against Yelena's chest. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments, both feeling miserable and not really sure what to say next. Yelena's hand began rubbing soothing circles on your back, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the pounding headache that was making it hard to think. 

"I'm sorry I crashed your private pity party," you finally joked, breaking the silence. 

Yelena's arms tightened around you, "Don't be sorry, baby. I'm glad you're here. It's nice to have someone to suffer with," she teased weakly, a small smile on her face. 

You chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit. Yelena softly continued to rub your back and held onto you close, waiting for it to pass. When it finally did, you took a deep breath and snuggled closer to her, feeling a little bit better just being near her. 

"I love you," you whispered, your voice hoarse and quiet. 

Yelena kissed the top of your head, "I love you too. And we'll both feel better soon, I promise." 

With that promise, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds in the room being the occasional cough or sniffle. Despite the discomfort of your sickness, being with Yelena made it a little more bearable. As the hours passed, the two of you drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally waking up to blow your noses or take some medicine. But even in your sickly state, being with each other made the experience a little bit more bearable. 

Eventually, the worst of the sickness passed, and you both started to feel a little bit more like yourselves. You shared a small smile when you realized that you were both wearing the same matching pyjamas, courtesy of Yelena's penchant for cute couple outfits. 

"Looks like we're a pair in sickness and in health," You joked, and Yelena rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile on her face. 

"Always," she replied, leaning in for a soft kiss. 

And as you both settled back into bed, feeling a little bit better than before, you knew that even in the toughest of times, you’d always have each other to rely on. 

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ceiestiaie  @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @lovelyy-moonlight @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69

[bloomingflowersthings]

Blooming fics Masterlist

Hello there!! Here’s where you can find all of my fics, I hope you enjoy!! <3

Natasha Romanoff

Wanda Maximoff

WandaNat

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Michelle Jones

Scarlet Johansson

Elizabeth Olsen

Florence Pugh

Hailee Steinfeld

Zendaya

Taglist: @daydreamerruby @natashamyl0ve @wandanats-goodgirl @goldenempyrean @somber-sapphic @mythixmagic

[somber-sapphic]

Hi! Can I request 1, 35, and ill timed with Yelena and sick reader? Love your writing!

Old Wives' Tales

This is my first Yelena fic! This is also unedited! Mostly because it's 2am!

[[Summary]] Most of the avengers would kill to get out of a press conference. Not you. You would do whatever you could to make sure you got to go. (yelena x reader)

-----

You had been looking forward to the press conference all week. Most of the others absolutely hated dealing with the media. Natasha voiced her hatred outright and had even recruited Clint and Wanda (who were clearly only supporting the assassin because they were dating) to boycott any sort of press event. Fury had shut it down, insisting that it was a part of the job and that people needed to view all of you as a unit. 

Tony loved the attention, Bruce didn’t really care about any of it as long as the big guy didn't come out, Cap was, of course, all about the people, Strange enjoyed showing off his intelligence in any way that he could and Thor always looked bored. Yelena only went because she had little choice. Natasha decided that if she had to go, so did her sister. 

You, Tony, and Cap were the three who truly loved the conferences. It was fun for you, it was some of the only times that you could snap back at the public for the way that they saw some of you, mainly when it came to the three women. For some reason, they were more okay with the men destroying cities than with the rest of you accidentally knocking down some statues in a battle. Calling them out on it and watching faces go red was quite entertaining. 

Imagine your dismay when you woke up three hours before the conference with a blocked nose and full sinuses. Your throat felt like someone had force-fed you gravel and your body was unnaturally heavy. Damnit. You were sick. You hadn’t been sick in years but could recognize the feeling anywhere. It went without saying that you were no longer looking forward to dealing with reporters. 

With a hacking cough, you heaved yourself out of bed, swaying when your feet hit the floor. All of the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy and vulnerable. You fell back onto the bed and clutched your head in your hands, groaning quietly. This was going to be an incredibly long day. Suddenly the idea of sitting under harsh lights and arguing with misogynists sounded like a nightmare. 

You took a final deep, bubbling breath and stood up again before shuffling to the bathroom to get ready. Despite knowing that there would be someone to do your makeup you applied a small amount, simply enough to make yourself look less like a walking zombie and more like a semi-living human. 

It was difficult to do proper makeup with shaky hands and blurry vision, but you pulled it off with minimal screw-ups. You’d thought for a moment that you could handle doing mascara and eyeliner but after accidentally drawing a dark black streak on your cheek. Then you’d had to do the makeup again, leading you to give up on doing anything close to your normal look. 

You threw back a shot of cold medicine and chased it with two Tylenol tablets swallowed with a gulp of water. Your throat burned and you coughed into the sink, wincing at just how much worse that made it. The fever you could deal with, but the sore throat was really getting to you.  

There was this old wives tale that you only vaguely remembered, but you knew that it had something to do with salt water. After a quick Google search, you found yourself in the kitchen mixing a teaspoon of salt into a glass of warm water. The internet had recommended less salt, but your logic said that more would make you feel better faster. 

You took a sip and nearly gagged as you attempted to gargle with it, the salt burning your throat even further. You only managed to keep it in your mouth for a few seconds before needing to spit it out. Wrinkling your nose you did the same thing with the rest of the glass, managing to keep the disgusting water in your mouth for longer each time. 

When it was gone you rinsed your mouth with clean water and took a big sip, thoroughly annoyed when you found that your throat seemed to hurt even worse than it had before. So that had failed. Of course, it did, why would it have worked? Why couldn’t it just make you feel better?

You checked your phone and sighed, wondering what you were supposed to do for three hours. If you had thought it over better you may have waited to do any sort of makeup and instead set an alarm that would let you sleep for a little bit longer. But no. Now you had to figure out what to do with yourself. 

Then, it came to you. Some people swore by exercise to cure minor illnesses and you needed to train anyway. Screw the makeup. You made your way down to the gym and changed into a tank top and leggings, pulling your hair up in a tight bun before you entered the actual training area. 

You made your way over to the punching bags and began to hit one, growing tired after only a few seconds. That didn't matter, it was good for you. It would be good to sweat out the germs and you’d get in a bonus workout. 

Twenty minutes later you had moved onto the obstacle court and were drenched in sweat, struggling to avoid said obstacles. You had fallen on your ass twice and there was a fresh bruise on your cheek which would of course hurt much worse when that was the only pain that you’d have to focus on. 

“Y/n! What on Earth are you doing?” You stopped and turned around to find Yelena stalking toward you, wearing a nice dress and a scowl. You opened your mouth to respond when the blonde’s expression turned to one of worry and you felt something slam into your back. The breath was knocked out of you and you fell to the ground, curling up to protect your head. 

You stayed in that position until you felt calloused hands on your shoulders, coaxing you out of your protective ball. 

“Idiot.” The young widow grumbled, pulling you to your feet. She held you steady and glared into your eyes, her face softening as you felt yourself wanting to cry. She could tell, of course, she could. There was no bullshitting Yelena Belova, especially when you didn’t have the energy to put on a mask. 

“The germs aren’t leaving.” You complained, your voice a mere whisper. The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, pressing her hand against your forehead. You whined and pulled away, swatting at invisible bugs as you did. 

“Okay weirdo, you sure are delirious. Come on, let's go.” She ordered, wrapping an arm around your waist. You sniffled and put your head on her shoulder, nearly letting the tears fall when she pulled you closer. 

It wasn’t often that Yelena would show affection where others might see the two of you, it simply wasn't the kind of person she was. But in private she was incredibly loving and attentive, she was an absolute sweetheart who would quite literally kill to keep you safe. Well, she may also kill for fun. The woman had a violent streak. 

“We’ve gotta go, Lena. We have-”

“Shut up.” You shut up. It just wasn’t a fight that you would win, nor a fight that you wanted to start. You’d rather just let her do what she wanted and maybe she’d cuddle with you. She’d definitely cuddle with you, it was a matter of whether or not you’d get a lecture about neglecting your health or not before the cuddles. 

Yelena half-carried you to your shared bedroom, not complaining about how much work you were making her do. It wasn’t intentional, but it seemed that forcing yourself to train had sapped every ounce of energy that you had left and you were struggling to make your body move the way it was supposed to. 

Your clear lack of strength came to a head when your knees gave out under you and you found yourself crumpled on the floor of the hallway containing everyone’s rooms, Yelena unable to keep you standing any longer. 

“Damnit, Y/n, are you alright?” The Russian woman asked, maneuvering out of the tangle of your combined limbs. That was it, that was all that you could take. You had been doing such an okay job at keeping yourself steady, making sure that your illness was on the sidelines, hyping yourself up for the press conference that you had been so excited for but now you were starting to break down. 

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you hung your head, body beginning to shake as you let yourself give up. Yelena cupped your face in her hands, her striking emerald eyes searching every part of your face for anything that could tell her how to help. 

“Hey, hey why are you crying?” She murmured, quickly rearranging the two of you so that you were leaning against her instead of the wall. You knew that your nose was running and that you looked absolutely disgusting, you were amazed that she was willing to be so close to you. She usually shied away from sick people. 

“Talk to me kotenok. Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.” Her kind words just made you want to cry harder. Rather than forcing you to answer Yelena held you tighter, pulling your head down onto her chest. She pressed her lips into your hair and whispered to you in Russian, promising you that everything would be alright. 

“I-I don’t f-f-feel good.” You finally managed, speaking into her shoulder. 

“I know Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick. But that’s why I’m here, I get to help. Even though you’re kind of an idiot.” You let out a waterly laugh and smiled, sniffling thickly in an attempt to get rid of some of the snot. Gross. 

“Gross.” Yelena echoed your thoughts and pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe your nose with. Where she had gotten a tissue and why she had one you didn’t know, but you were grateful. 

“Thanks, baby.” You mumbled, giving her a weak smile. She snorted and kissed your forehead, rolling her eyes at you. 

“Alright germ bag. Ready to get up again?” The blonde helped you back up and the two of you went back to stumbling down the hall, your tears subsiding slightly.

Maybe you could convince Yelena to let you join the press conference via Zoom. Then at least you’d get to be a part of it. If not though, at least she was there to remind of you of your bad decisions all while making you feel like the most loved human in the whole world.

[shiningstarr15]

I’d love to see a fluffy sister Sickfic. I am a sucker for those.

Hi there! Thanks for the request. I went ahead and combined it with another one I got since they were practically the same. You can read it here Enjoy 😊 💖

[the-widow-sisters]

hey! i was wondering if you could write a fanfic where yelena was going on her first mission and is vv excited but then natasha is just so sick. like throwing up sick. it’s all good if u cant. thank u!!! 😁

Thank you so, so much for the request! I actually just combined your request with one I just posted here! �� I hope you enjoy! 😊💖

[builder051]

Broken homes make for wandering hearts, Part II

Chasing Ghosts. This is ch.2 of the “introduction of Yelena as a side character” fic. This is ch.2 of 2. Read ch.1 first. It has the same title as this, just marked as part I. Unfortunately I can’t post the link because the iPad won’t let me open two screens at once. :(

WARNINGS for implications of child abuse (that happened a long time ago), bad foster care system, drug use, alcohol use, mentions of sex/loose sex/drunk sex/sex work/etc., underage partying/college partying, addiction, violation of privacy, illness & injury/vomiting, slight classism (?). I’m really trying to cover all my bases here. General Chasing Ghosts-type relatively mature content. But nothing, like, absolutely traumatizing.

As always, please leave your feedback in an ask or comment if you’d like. I WILL NOT be adding chapters to this story, and I WILL NOT be adding Yelena as a full-time character. However, she’s definitely going in the arsenal (alongside Maria Hill, who makes frequent cameos, and Bruce Banner, who has showed up once, I think.) If you have Yelena reqs, I’ll take them, but don’t expect any more stories with her soon. I need a break to do other things, but I’ll absolutely return to this content.

________________________________________________

James has never been bothered that someone else nabbed the fourth chair of the kitchen table set. It’d been the very moment before he’d had the chance to hoist it into the bed of the pickup truck he and Steve had borrowed for the weekend, but he didn’t let it get him down. Not there at the garage sale. Not as they decorated the apartment with their scratched-yet-sturdy finds. There were two of them. Three chairs would be plenty.

Along came Tasha, and three chairs still met their needs. Everyone gravitated toward the same, most ideal seat, the one with the open view of the kitchen, living room, and front door, while its back nestled into the blank corner. Subliminal hierarchy was established, with Steve and Tasha silently bowing to James, unless Tasha was in a mood and James was buying it. Now that James thinks about it, Steve’s definitely pulling the short straw.

Now that James really thinks about it, listening to the sound of acrylic nails tapping on the door, they’ve never entertained a guest. It’s enough of a fluke to get them all home at once. In the same room at once. Now at the same table…

“You going to let us in?” Yelena asks, sarcasm leaking ever so slightly into her tone. “Or did we climb up three flights of stairs for nothing?”

The door isn’t locked, and Tasha has keys. Unless she’s done something even more stupid than what James already knows about. The gate, the code, the heavy, misshapen gate key… James doesn’t even tote his around all the time. He can empathize with Tasha’s situation. To a point. And forgetting that she has the right to see herself into her own place of residence? That’s taking things a little far. It’s like Stockholm syndrome, but in reverse.

James glances at Steve, who looks like he wants to play gentleman and see the ladies inside. Maybe offer them water, or popcorn, even though James told him not to. He can just imagine Steve in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, maybe in an apron, or with a towel folded over his pocket, smiling broadly and offering menus of wine and tartlets.

James shakes his head. “Door’s open,” he says, shrugging slightly.

“Oh.” Steve returns his focus to the door. After a moment, he calls, “It’s open!”

Nothing comes by way of verbal confirmation. The doorknob just turns, and the two girls appear, heavily backlit by the porch light. Rain streaks down through the darkness behind them, and although the overhang of the stairwell protects them from a direct soaking, they still step inside quickly and slam the door with a loud, vacuuming snap.

The whole thing feels rushed to James. He knew this was coming, this face-to-face meeting, but the closing of the door, the slick sound of wet high-heels on the kitchen linoleum— processing is difficult. It’s like drunk sex. What’s the girl saying? What is he saying? Is he even hard anyway?

James struggles to delete that thought, though the comparison is dead on. Yelena looks like a party hookup. Maybe a friend’s one night stand. Or, like, a nobody in an online ad, probably for something like e-cigs. Maybe lube.

She has an air of familiarity, that James can’t deny. But that borderline freakish little kid he crossed paths with all those years ago? She may as well be gone, except in the most basic of traits. Light skin. Blonde hair. Petite. Ish. Though certainly not underdeveloped anymore. Unless she has on some kind of invisible push-up bra under her pink one-shoulder dress. She’s paired it with leather leggings and strappy stilettos; her hair is tied in a bubble ponytail. Makeup on point, and noticeably still perfect, even though time of initial application must have been hours earlier.

James tends to think he has a good feel about people, especially after, well, the breadth of experience life’s thrown him so far. He watches Yelena’s posture as she unabashedly takes the third kitchen chair, pulls it back, and sits daintily, crossing her ankles, but then seems to have no qualms in leaning in with her elbows on the table. She could be a student. Carefully dressing up in fast fashion in her dorm. Someone from money, in name brand. A model, in sample sizes. Did she do her makeup in the 7-11 bathroom before stepping out on the street? Where the highest bidders roam, obviously. White guys. White cars. White powder. Sugar Daddies. The idea makes James’s gut twist, and the tangent puts him on high alert. What is this girl trying to get his sister into?

His sister. Tasha. Who, in contrast, has mascara dripping down her cheeks and has been left with nowhere to sit. James catches her eye, and Tasha’s face twitches. She takes a breath, but with her whole body. Her lips turn down, eyes squint to nothing. James swears he can see her skinny torso making waves beneath her thin, damp top. Tears, he thinks. Or worse.

He opens his arms, and Tasha immediately gets the message.

“Jamie,” she whispers, hustling toward him in that ‘needs a cuddle’ way that he can only imagine she’d performed on Yelena —how long ago? An hour? Three hours? —earlier. James’s insides knot a bit, but he lets Tasha’s practically weightless body come down on his knee. He finds himself automatically preparing a ‘wrong for the weather’ lecture about her state of dress that actually comes down a bit harshly on the fashion side of things. Jellies? Who wears jellies? Surely they have nixed the 90s comeback by now. Or, at least, that one. In weather. On people with tiny, raynauds’s pale toes.

“Ok,” is what he says, though. “It’s ok.”

“Do I even warrant a greeting?” Yelena crosses her arms.

Steve looks to James, as if ascertaining he has permission to speak and act on behalf of the household. “Good evening,” he eventually announces nervously. “I’m, uh, James’s boyfriend.” He pauses, waiting for someone, anyone, else to speak. “I gather you’re family to James and Tasha?”

Tasha gets animated, and gulpy to the same degree. “Our sister,” she un-whispers in James’s ear. “She goes to our school now.”

James takes a hard pause. “Alright then.” He didn’t expect the voice, wording, everything to be so dead on. So baby sister. His baby sister.

It evokes soggy off-brand Coco-Puffs, mornings with dreary weather, where everyone’s late, and someone’s science project is improperly damp or moldy or whatever. The few days of Tasha and that tot, dressed to the nines in hand-me-down fashion generic, made special by some kind of friendship bracelet that would unite with powers if they bumped their fists together. James thought it was a hair tie.

Yelena seems to take James as finished for his speaking turn, even though he isn’t. She obviously isn’t processing a decade’s worth of absenteeism and just-now related cover stories. She goes right ahead with ,”James?” Nodding toward him. “You haven’t changed. Like, at all. Like, not a day.”

James finds himself squaring his jaw. Tasha makes a tiny involuntary noise, and James moves his hand to her back. “That’s weird,” he replies, a little cautiously. ‘It’s been, like, what, ten years now?”

It has to have been, if what James is thinking is correct and the ages all line up and the little terror—whoops, should probably hold off on calling her that—broke loose of her worker and drudged up their contact info. If it wasn’t fed to her in the first place by some well-meaning state care aid, trying to help her establish a life as an independent person. Though it looked like she had it thoroughly covered in that department, fueling James’s theory that she was just there to harass them.

“Yeah, well.” Yelena shrugs. “I guess, like, you’re gay now, but I totally saw that one coming, too.”

Steve makes a nervous cough. James kicks him under the table.

“Uh, thanks for bringing us the crystal ball on our lives that we didn’t order,” James says. He turns eyes on Yelena. “So. What brought you to town?”

“Oh, you know.” Yelena rolls her eyes. “Same old. School. Work”

“What’re you studying?” Steve asks, pulling a dad friend and definitely cutting in.

“Political science,” Yelena answers. “What else, these days?”

“Psychology’s a thing…” Tasha mumbles into James’s collar.

“So’s underwater— what’re you doing this semester?” James gestures roughly at Steve.

“Team drills.”

“You never told me you made the team.” James’s brain is brimming on the overfull point, so he lets the snap out, even though he probably could’ve thought better of it. “Is that why you’re never home on, what is it, Wednesday anymore?”

“Um.” Steve’s cheeks go red. “I thought I showed you the schedule.” He examines his fingernails, then his lap.

James is appalled with himself. The feeling of rough-cut ice cubes rattles down his throat and toward his stomach. It’s almost a month into the semester; he hopes he hasn’t missed a meet.

“A little…”. Yelena starts, then breaks into giggles. “Family strain? We’re all used to it, right?”

James bites the inside of his lip. Tasha goes breathy, and he wonders if she’s about to cry again.

“Jamie?” Tasha forces out on an exhale.

“Yeah?”

“I think I-I m-maybe ate too much…?” Definitely not true, and not something Tasha’d ever admit to, anyway. Sober, at least. Or even this stage of screwy.

“Uh?” James gets in.

“Drank too much?”

That’s more the ticket. James follows with the obvious. “Are you gonna puke all over me?”

“N-no…”. But Tasha’s clamping and squeezing; it’s as if she’s preparing to hold her torso as she does some kind of flipping gymnastics move around his body. The effort’s centered in her chest, though, and her throat, which is working at a great swallow against the blockade of James’s shoulder.

This much effort for dignity? She’d never. Not it just the two of them were participants in this conversation. Tasha would let it go in front of Steve. She has. She’s adopted him as a sort of substitute white knight.

“Let’s go to the bathroom, ok?” James shifts Tasha’s small frame on his lap and gets his good arm beneath her.

Tasha moans and hides her face further. James realizes that the butt of his sister’s romper dress is damp. So is the top of his knee.

“Yeah, I know you’re cold,” James mutters in faux annoyance. He crosses behind Steve’s chair so it’s a strait shot down the hallway to the bathroom. Yelena would have to turn 90 degrees one way, then the other, if she wanted to spy. And James bets Steve’s brand of table talk propriety would make her uncomfortable taking the chance to gawk.

“But—“ Tasha stretches one arm toward Yelena, her fingers like a mermaid’s, drifting here and yaw on the benevolent tidal waves surging below. Then her forehead goes flat against James’s neck along with a wet, stutters, “Fuck.’

James uses a bath towel to bridge the gap as he peels Tasha away from him and gives her the solid toilet seat instead. The folds of cotton terry collect gushes of peachy-pink fluid that smells equally of grain alcohol, cheap tropical juice mix, and the stomach sludge of someone who has spent far too long swallowing their spit and not much else.

“Yeah, that’s great, Tash,” James says, both encouragingly and sarcastically as she manages to get the next vital dump into the toilet bowl completely.

Tasha mumbles something that scrambles in her damaged vocal cords and comes out like nails on a chalkboard. James is barely listening, though. He’s pretty sure he hears clickety clackety high heeled footsteps out in the entryway of the apartment. He reaches over Tasha’s head and courtesy flushes, then high-tails it out of the bathroom just far enough to see Steve’s back closing the front door as Yelena retreats down the stairs.

“Where’d you go?” Tasha coughs. She wipes snot on the back of her hand.

“Right here.” James returns to her side. He hands over a washcloth and sees to cleaning her up properly. What she needs is a good scrubbing under hot water, but James doesn’t trust her not to drown in the shower. So he takes a second washcloth, drenches it under the warmest water he can get at the tap, and proffers it tentatively.

“If I give you this, do you promise to get clean?”

Tasha looks confused, but reaches her hand out anyway.

“Like, take your makeup off, and get all the kinds of gross of you,” James instructs. He grabs the last lonely hand towel off the bar and folds it into a tube, then uses it as a blindfold. “Promise not to look.”

“Fine…”. The wet washcloth splats against skin, and Tasha ostensibly scrubs for a while.

Then, “You made her go away again.” Tasha chokes and clears her throat. “Didn’t you?”

“Well,” James sighs. “I din’t ‘make’ her’.”

“You didn’t let her stay.”

James hesitates the smallest bit, but says, truthfully, “No. I didn’t.”

“But why?” Tasha’s question comes out with a tinge of a whine. “Why not make her happy?”

James raises his brows. “She seemed pretty happy as she was.”

“But after us, a long time ago, she went to some kind of asylum. She was telling me. She’s just learning about regular stuff. College.” Tasha’s breath hitches. “She could’ve learned about family.”

“Are you—? Jeezus, Tasha,”. James pulls the towel off his face and throws it at her. “Here. Cover up.” He waits a second or two with his hands in front of his eyes, then stares her down.

Tasha looks tiny. Exhausted. Withered. “But…?”

“She’s… Yelena….” James shakes his head. “She’s not the kind of person for us to be around right now.”

“So, like.” Tasha blinks slowly. “We’ve just been reunited and now I can never see her again?”

“That’s…” James pauses. “Not what I meant. You can have her number. Keep in touch. Go on, I don’t know, like, coffee dates. Go study, or whatever.”

“You mean like, keep it clean?” Tasha lifts one eyebrow. “We’re both adults, you know. And I’m not into incest.”

“I’m well aware of that.” James sort of hates that they’re all grown up now, with nobody credentialed to keep everything in line. All things considered, he has more certs and credits than most social workers do on a base requirement. He’s worked with POWs. Fuck, he is a POW. A trauma case before he left grade school. But when he thinks of mediating a relationship between his sister and, well, someone like that… inept doesn’t even begin to describe it. “I mean, like, keep me informed.” He has no other way to state it. He wants to be open with Tasha. Blunt, maybe, if it’ll help her understand. “She doesn’t feel all that trustworthy.”

“She’s trustworthy,” Tasha fires back.

“Yeah?” James nods to the violently pink towel. “You guys weren’t clubbing. that’s some serious party drink. You were at someone’s house. Which means you weren’t obeying laws.”

“Do I ever?” Tasha looks even more busted up. A kid. Who needs help.

“Well, sometimes,” James states honestly. He’s turning from real to harsh, and he knows it. He swallows, and purposefully softens his tone. “I like it when you do.”

“Well—“ It’s clear Tasha has nothing to say, but something over James’s shoulder distracts her. “I’ll have plenty of time to get into more trouble by myself while you’re making posters for swim meets.”

“I…” It’s so Tasha for her to pull it on him. So baby sister. James grits his teeth and collects himself once more. “I wasn’t done talking to you. About— you know—“

“Buck?” Steve say softly. His hand comes down on James’s shoulder; his thumb stroking the collar of James’s t-shirt and coming to rest just above the neckline. The contact sends a line of shivers through James’s skin and into his spine around mid-neck. The feeling travels downward, losing traction and trailing off a few inches before reaching his tailbone. It’s not painful, exactly. Uncomfortable. But gentle. A warning, which James appreciates. But also a taking of charge that he doesn’t.

Steve doesn’t get it. There’s no way. He can comprehend. Understand, based on what he’s overheard and what James has told him to fill in the gaps. Instability. Pathology. Critical care. Vulnerable. Stuff you learn about in abnormal psych. Stuff you learn about when you decide to take a shortcut home that winds around behind the gas station and corner store. Steve isn’t stupid. But what he knows is the idea of crazy. Not crazy itself. And seeing as Tasha’s probably the craziest person he’s had any kind of long-term relationship with… James’s would-be Rolodex of mentally ill foster system rejects may as well be exotic anacondas and boa constrictors listed for display at a rare snake show. Pretty. Interesting. Dangerous when poked, only and done so against the discretion of their handlers.

“Should we maybe get her to bed?” Steve asks in James’s ear. James’s hearing aid whistles slightly, and he does his best not to flinch. Steve’s not doing it on purpose, torturing him or being an idiot. He has a point. Tasha’s probably beyond the barrier for short-term memory. Maybe long-term. James has no way of knowing if she’ll remember any of this in the morning. He doesn’t know if Yelena will be anything to her except a new contact in her cell phone.

James leans back, putting half his weight on his heels and half on Steve. Steve doesn’t mind, and stabilizes them both by placing his chin on top of James’s head like a needle on an old record. James feels his own exhaustion, but he can’t let go of his tension. Not yet. “Yeah…” he breathes, letting his shoulder blades spread and conform to the shape of Steve’s chest. James looks to Tasha, who’s seems heavy-headed. She shivers as she holds the wilting hand towel against herself; the damp fabric barely covering her chest to thigh. “You feel like turning in?”

“Mm.” Tasha nods. “Yeah, I could sleep.” She’d probably agree to just about anything. Going for an ice cream cone. A pill of which she doesn’t actually know the pharmaceutical name. James hopes to god and fuck-all else she’s going along with it because it’s him, and not just because she’s stoned stupid. He really doesn’t want to think of her that way.

“Ok.” James takes a lunge forward and momentarily bounces off the countertop beside the sink before tucking Tasha under his good arm. She melts against him, going all three-legged race, except that her legs stick together like a mermaid tail. James tows her across the bath mat, then into the hall.

Steve sticks himself to the wall to get out of the way, and Tasha fixes him with her floaty gaze before James manages to pull her into her bedroom. “You’re really on the swim team?” Tasha asks, as if that’s the only thing they’ve been discussing tonight. “Do they make you wear a uniform? Like… uh, the bald thing, and the glasses? And the, like, speedo?”

“We are interrogating no one about speedos.” James says firmly, giving Tasha a push in the small of the back so she falls forward onto her bed. “Do you want to wear clothes?”

“I’m cold.”

“Way to not answer, Tash.” James picks up an oversized hoodie from the floor and tosses it to his sister, then fluffs a blanket from the foot of the bed.

Steve seems to be trying to help, or at least look it. He grabs a couple of stuffed animals from the corner and adds them to the pile, then starts abjectly straightening things on the bedside table. Sticky notes, gel pens, nail polish, mini packets of M&Ms, all fine. But the bottle of ibuprofen with the label mostly torn off? James gives him the side-eye, and Steve promptly pockets it when Tasha pulls the hood of the jacket far down over her face and collapses into her pillow.

“Alright.” James switches on Tasha’s lamp, then kills the overhead lights. “Sleep tight. If your towels smell like bleach in the morning, don’t complain. You should thank me for it.”

“You’re not sleeping with me?” Tasha mumbles, somewhere between annoyed and already asleep.

James is glad only Steve is standing by as audience. There are far to many ways in which that turn of phrase can be misinterpreted, even though all of them do, in fact, sleep together, following only the straightforward definition of slumbering upon a single mattress. “In your tiny little bed?” James laughs. “Someone would wind up on the floor. And I bet it would be me.”

“It’s an extra long…” Tasha sighs.

“Yes, that means your sheets are expensive,” James replies. “It does not mean your bed is wide enough for more than one person.”

“But in dorms—“

“Tash.” James starts to close her door, leaving it so just a sliver of light comes in from the hall. “Go to sleep.”

Steve has his hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh.

James turns around. “What?”

“Well, she’s right…”

“Yeah, yeah. You lived in a dorm. I didn’t,” James reminds him.

“You lived in barracks,” Steve shoots back.

“Yup.” James passes him without looking up. “Single-sex housing, and everything.”

“And everybody behaved, all the time, right? No rule-breakers?”

“Not a one.” James grins. By the time they get back to the kitchen, though, he has to bite his lip to attempt a straight face.

“It’s jammers, by the way,” Steve says abruptly.

“What now?”

“Jammers. The long ones. You know.” Steve makes a gesture as if cutting his pants off a few inches above the knee. “For swim team.”

“Oh.” James understands. He feels his cheeks flush in secondhand embarrassment for Tasha’s mix-up and his complete indifference. “I’m, you know, I’m, really sorry—“

“Semester’s only a month in, and sports schedule is so weird.” Steve seems to be trying to nod and shake his head at the same time, giving James all the grace he doesn’t deserve. “Coach set the practice schedule for, like, class times, but the meets don’t start till March, then there’s Spring Break, so…” He shrugs. “It’s hard to keep it all down.”

“I didn’t notice. At all.” James shoves back his hair. “I’m sorry. I knew you were taking gym again. Or swimming.” He knows he’s seen Steve’s schedule; it’s taped to the front of one of his binders, which is usually on the table. “Next level up from the fall?”

“That’s the thing,” Steve explains. “That was advanced swimming, and next level up is team, so I got kind of roped into it. I didn’t want to compete, really, but my coach from the fall is one of the team coaches, and he said my times are good with what the guys on the team are pulling, so I felt like I had to say yes, especially since somebody switched to an Ivy League school over break, and somebody else is out on injury…” He trails off. “I didn’t, like, tell you all about it before, and that was probably dumb.”

“It’s your life,” James says, hoping he doesn’t sound uncaring. “I mean, your schedule. If you come home late once a week, that’s ok. If I need to mark off a few Saturdays here to come, that’s ok too.“

“I should’ve asked first—“

“What am I gonna do? Miss a couple hours of reading with old tv shows going while I wait for Tash to sleep it off?” James raises his hand in a shoulder-level shrug. “Maybe I’ll toss her in a cold shower and bring her with. Do they still sell ring pops in the concessions, like they did at the neighborhood league meets when we were kids?”

“I…” Steve considers. “I don’t actually know.”

“It’s a set mission, then. I’ll send Tasha to find out.” James nods decisively. “Then once you’re all chlorinated and her tongue is blue, I’ll drag us all down to the veteran’s center for art therapy hour, and we’ll make a day of it.”

“As long as nobody minds if my hair starts turning green and I smell like Drano.” Steve says with a game smile.

“Yeah, well,” James replies. “As long as you’re not drinking Drano.”

“Me? Never.” Steve crosses his heart.

“Yeah, well…” James flicks his eyes down the hall. Then toward the front door.

“What do you do when it happens?” Steve grimaces. “If, I mean.”

“Poison control. And 911. But they’re really slow, and the down and dirty involves charcoal brickettes and a cheese grater.”

Steve raises his hands as if showing a police officer his innocence. “Ok, I’m no longer interested in playing trivia.”

“Fair enough,” James says. “Feel like playing secret agent instead?”

“Huh?”

James points to the kitchen chair where he’d been sitting earlier. He hadn’t realized Tasha’s handbag had ended up slung across the back, but there it remains, undisturbed, and rife for the searching.

“Is that, like, an invasion of privacy?” Steve wonders aloud.

“Eh, big brother privilege,” James tells him. “And I have training in counterintelligence.”

“Counterintelligence?” Steve repeats, sounding confused.

“Yeah. I have a paper with a stamp on it, somewhere.” James reaches into the bag and starts feeling around. “But I’m not sniffing her for drugs or anything. I’m just interested in… this.” He pulls out Tasha’s phone, a triumphant look on his face.

“What’re you—?” Steve steps closer, reaching out as if he’s about to smack the device out of James’s hand. Then, “Oh. Are you going to take down that girl’s—Yelena’s—number?”

“Mm-hm.” James nods. He presses his thumb over the phone’s home button and lets it error out.

“But you’re locked out,” Steve says, disappointed, and not thinking outside the obvious.

“Give it a sec…”

The numeral panel appears, and James guesses the passcode in one.

“Hey, that’s—“. Steve shakes his head. “Did she give you the number? Are you supposed to be—? Like, for an emergency, or something?”

“Or something,” James says. “Definitely or something.” He scrolls through Tasha’s chaotic Home Screen for a moment, passing through pages of apps than seem to be organized by no recognizable method. “Tasha’s the kind of person who uses one passcode and pin for absolutely everything,” James explains. “I tell her not to, and she knows not to, but she’s just smart enough to know she’s dumb.” He shake his head and begins to scroll in the other direction. “She knows she’ll need to use an ATM when she’s drunk, or something like that, so she plans ahead. It’s kind of a safety measure, so she can always dial 911, but then again, if some sicko watches her open up her phone when the fingerprint thing is down, and they try the same on her bank card, she’s dead screwed.”

“So, what’s the code?” Steve asks slyly.

“Our old house number,” James sighs. “From, you know, that house.”

“Hmmm.” Steve muses. “I’m guessing that if you lived there, you know it?”

“Yup.”

“So…she might know it?”

James finally finds the Facebook app and gives it a frustrated tap. “Exactly my problem…. Well, hopefully not everyone’s problem. For long.”

After ensuring Tasha’s logged in, James flips past her last few posts, internally cringing at her grammar and use of internet speak, and takes a look at her friends list. Yelena hasn’t shown up. At least not yet. That’s good. It means they have a little time.

James isn’t surprised to see Tasha’s security settings, or lack thereof. “Fantastic,” he mumbles, quickly shutting off her location, and swapping her bubble of shareability to the general friends-of-friends level.

“You’re really reigning her in, there, Buck.” Steve takes a seat at the table beside James and peers over his shoulder.

“She’s a kid,” James says. “She’s in college. I’m not stopping her from adding people. Everyone she knows will know where she goes to school. She just doesn’t need the entire world to be aware of all her nonsense with a GPS pointing to my apartment.” He takes a breath. “I mean, take it from me. If Bin Laden were alive, this totally wouldn’t be content he’d bother to hack, but it’s still out there, freely available. Some 18-year-old girl’s diary hanging in cyberspace for a dirty old man to go and read.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“And, I don’t think Tash posts about anything outright illegal, but location placing her at parties and stuff, and obviously drunk rants…” James goes back to her profile and swipes downward to demonstrate. “Now it all has to be subpoenaed, rather than the cops just logging on from their personal accounts and seeing everything that points to my little sister running herself ragged at some Frat ordeal that definitely wasn’t campus-sponsored.”

“I wish I’d known that when I lived on campus.” Steve seems impressed.

“You didn’t take chuggers and take off your clothes in the street when you lived on campus.”

“I went to mixers,” Steve says, almost defensively. “I know why there are lines on solo cups.”

“That’s a completely fake story,” James declares. “I thought we weren’t playing trivia anymore.”

“I went to a campus safety seminar, and they told us that’s what the lines are for!” Steve covers his face. “Was I lied to? Can you seriously not measure with them?”

“I mean.” James shrugs. “Maybe ballpark. Ish. Like, to count your drinks in your head or something, I don’t know. But red solo cups aren’t made that way. Like, with the lines having an explicit purpose.”

“But—? How—?”

“Ever heard of urban legends?” James asks, his face breaking into a wild grin. He closes Tasha’s Facebook app and skims around for her contacts.

“What, like, the hook man? Or the babysitter who keeps getting phone calls, back in the day before cell phones, and she calls the cops, and the trace it to coming from inside the house? Which makes no sense, because it’s supposed to be way back before cell phones?”

“Yeah, kind of.” James squints at the screen as he reads the names. It takes him three tries to find what he’s looking for, because Tasha’s gone and put the number under ‘My Sister Yelena’ instead of Yelena Belova or Belova, Yelena or something sensible like that. James has to poke Steve to get his attention, for Steve’s eyes are fixed at the small print on Tasha’s phone. “Hey. Can I borrow your laptop?”

Steve starts. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s closer.”

“Sure…” Steve half-rises and retrieves his computer from the edge of the kitchen counter. He settles it between himself and James, then opens it and wakes the screen.

“You know reverse white pages?” James asks.

“Like looking up a name by a phone number?” Steve nods. “Is there, like, a particular site?”

“Eh, they’re all about the same. Crappy, but ok for current purposes. Just google it and take whatever comes up.”

“Ok.” Steve types quickly, then opens a site that’s glaringly white with red text and a search bar.

James has forgotten Steve doesn’t keep his screen in dark mode. He tries not to look directly into the brightness so as not to blind himself into a headache, nor kill the mood of a secret hacker mission, despite the simplicity of the tools at their disposal.

“Ok, ready?” James asks. “I’ll read the number off, and you type it in…”

“Roger.”

“Very funny.” James clears his throat. “Number is…” he reads off the digits, including the area code, even though it’s the standard one for their locality.

“Got it.” Steve presses enter with a flourish, and the laptop screen takes but a moment to populate with results. Steve hums as he examines them, then declares, “Yup. She’s there. Top one.”

“What’re the rest?” James asks, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

“Ummm.” Steve runs his finger down the list, holding it an inch or so from the screen. “It looks like a cell number, so, like, old owners, I think?”

“You think,” James muses.

“Well, you could read it,” Steve offers, “but I know you hate my color scheme.” He pauses. “The preview is like, number, name, carrier? But the carrier keeps changing, so it would seem the number keeps getting batched, maybe? Like, one carrier sells a bunch of numbers to another when they go out of business, or merge, or change names or… you know?”

“Yeah.” James thinks about it. “College kid. Grant. Stipend.” He shrugs. “Gets some kind of sale deal. Or one of those junky carriers that only takes local calls. Could be right.”

“What do you mean, ‘could be right?’” Steve asks.

“Answer me this,” James poses. “Who has a crappy carrier cell phone?”

“A broke college kid?” Steve guesses, again seeing only the obvious.

“And…” James prompts.

“Broke other people?”

James rolls his eyes. “Yes, I suppose, technically. But I was thinking more like spies, prostitutes, soldiers on leave, drug traffickers, assassins…” James enumerates on his fingers, trailing off when he runs out, refusing to use his prosthetic.

“That’s… kind of out there, though.” Steve says. “Isn’t it?”

“Who was in our house earlier, though?” James continues to question. “A college kid? For sure?”

“I know people in college like that,” Steve says. “Exchange students. People in the dorm.” He shrugs.

“You are absolutely not as stupid as you sound right now.” James squeezes his eyes shut and jams his fist into one socket. “You lived in the dorm when Obama was president. You could afford to live in the dorm.”

“I— Oh.” Steve bites his lip. “Sorry.”

“People don’t generally come out of foster care with money for party clothes,” James reminds him.

“Tasha has—“ Steve starts attempting to redeem himself, but James refuses to let him. He’ll only dig the hole deeper.

“Yes, and she orders it from knockoff Chinese websites, and it arrives already falling apart.”

Steve looks confused, and a little frightened.

“She’s good with tape and safety pins.” James looks down at the table. “Ballet. It really did her so much. In, like, every department.”

“There’s…” Steve puts his elbow on the table and leans in toward James. “There’s a lot I don’t know.” It’s less an admission, exactly, and more of an acknowledgement.

“Hey, both sides, man.” James lets out a breath. “Back on track, do you think? Ready to face the truth?”

“You mean, click on her contact? Yelena’s?”

“Yup.” James’s heart gives a sudden flutter. His stomach clenches.

“Ok.” Steve clicks. A new window opens. He blinks at the screen a couple times. Then he begins to read. “Alright. Yelena Belova, yes, date of birth… puts her at 18 years old, yes, we know that… Address. Campus drive.”

“Wait, low numbers or high numbers?” James asks. “Student ghetto, like, ifffy studios, or student grand-a-month for a room in a Victorian with 10 other kids?”

“It’s a 500,” Steve says. “So, depends on what side of the street?”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah…”

“Is there, like, an employer? Driver’s license? Previous residence?” James knows he’s grasping at straws. Public record rarely reveals more than the basics, but one can only hope.

“No. That’s all.” Steve scrolls down, but the page doesn’t move. “It does have the phone carrier, though. It’s Cricket, so, you’re right. One of the junky ones.”

“Figures.”

“So…” Steve looks to James. “She’s either really a broke college kid, or pretending to be one?”

James nods. “Yeah, pretty much. That’s about what I’d guess.”

“Can I google her name?” Steve asks eagerly. “Now that we can cross it against her phone number and location and stuff?”

“Yeah, be my guest.” James is bemused at Steve’s sudden interest in taking the investigation further. “See what you can find, ace detective.”

“You’re the detective,” Steve mutters, backpaging and clacking away with google again. “You have certs.”

“Actually, private detectives don’t really need certs. Like, there’s no universal accreditation that’s recognized in order to be a ‘detective.’” James replies.

“Buck, we are so done with trivia…” Steve trails off. His eyes widen, though, as he narrows down on something in his current batch of results. “Ok, ok,” he starts again, sounding excited. “Guess what two accounts come up for her, one right on top of the other?”

“I’m guessing they spell bad news?” James doesn’t look up.

“Yeah. Ok.” Steve laughs. One of them is LinkedIn.”

James phone buzzes. It’s in his back pocket, making his ass jolt uncomfortably against the hard kitchen chair.

“Guess what the other one is.”

“Um.” James reaches for his pocket, trying to free his phone without standing up.

“It’s— Oh, you have to guess.” Steve can’t seem to contain himself.

James gets his hand around his phone, but promptly drops it on the tabletop with a clatter the bulletproof case doesn’t even begin to muffle. He grits his teeth, hoping the noise doesn’t wake Tasha. “Um.” He tries to focus on Steve, but the phone vibrates again.

“Guess.”

“Uh…Is it 1-800-porn?” James tries, flipping his phone with his prosthesis so he can unlock it with his fingerprint.

“Close, but—“ Steve laughs again. “It’s OnlyFans. And it shows her profile pic in the google listing and everything. And it looks like she’s just wearing this, like, lace underwear and holding a teddy bear over herself…”

“Wow.” James has two messages, both listed as coming from an unknown number. He spares a glance at Steve before opening the first one. “You sure it’s her?”

“Definitely,” Steve says. “Dead ringer.”

“Wow,” James repeats. He taps the first message. The ‘unknown’ turns to read ‘blocked.’ Then the words appear.

Spying on me?

James raises an eyebrow. He manages to keep a straight face, though as he opens the other message. This one also turns so the sender reads ‘blocked.’ There’s no way to prove that both messages came from the same blocked sender, but James is convinced they did. Especially as the text comes in, stark white against James’s negative background.

Brother Jamie.