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uchayann · 16 days ago

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[i could be a better boyfriend than him- k.b]

summary: an unwanted proposal leads you to consider the feelings you didn’t even know you had

pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader

warnings: angst, a rejected proposal + a breakup, R is bisexual (not really a warning, just context ig), drinking, enemies to lovers?, SAPPHIC YEARNING‼️, not proofread

word count: 3k

a/n: i wrote this to distract myself from the GARBAGE FIRE that this week has been. {yes, i have a dozen other drafts i should be writing, and yes i decided to write something else entirely. what about it? i’m just a girl}

i haven’t been particularly happy this week, hence the more angst-focused fic. but this might have maybe possibly helped a minuscule amount. also i’m probably gonna do a part two? we’ll see how i feel. (though i probably should because it does sort of end on a cliffhanger? very ATSV-coded. iykyk) but in the meantime, enjoy <3

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For the third time that night, you lock eyes with Kate. And for the third time that night, you quickly avert your gaze to anything else; your heels, the untouched champagne flute in your hand, the analog clock on the wall of the banquet hall.

The fact that Kate was even here tonight sort of pissed you off. You knew there was no way that your boyfriend invited her to this party judging by the fact that he didn’t know her that well, and he’d stressed wanting a small, intimate party with some of his and your closest friends. So, Kate must’ve somehow found out through Aimee, a mutual friend. And of course, she pounced on the opportunity to crash the party.

And of course, times two, she’d do it looking way more gorgeous than she had any business looking in that open black blazer over a black lacy bustier, those dress trousers that flattered the hell out of her figure. She swirls a whiskey glass in one hand and leans against the open bar with the other. Her gaze still remains on you, and as you catch her smirk, you realize that she’s caught you looking at her. A fourth time.

You huff and look away again, searching the room for your partner who claimed to have something very important to talk to you about, but whom hasn’t been present in the last half hour. He was three things: clueless, obsessed with you, and smothering you. The trifecta.

Just a week ago, he’d asked you to move in with him, which you absolutely weren’t ready for. He’d made it sound like it would be the best thing for your relationship, but you just weren’t ready to surrender your freedom. But not wanting to hurt his feelings, you’d told him you’d think it over and get back to him. You knew you should’ve said no right out the gate when he kept pestering you about it.

Then, dealing with the stress of that situation, your girl friends had invited you out for a drink to unwind. And who else would wind up at the same queer bar as you but none other than Kate Bishop.

Kate Bishop who, if you were honest, confused the fuck out of you. You hated her for her arrogance and her ridiculous air of self-importance. But that cheeky smirk and the way she spoke to you had your tummy spinning like a washing machine. You hated that she was rich, and acted like it. But you could never stop staring at her hands when she was around you, thinking about what they could do to you; how they could hold you, tease you. She thought she was hot shit, and maybe she was. But you just found her hot, and wished you didn’t.

But that’s neither here nor there. Because you’re not attracted to Kate Bishop. And you already have a partner that you care about a lot. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

You’re distracted from your own inner monologue as a handful of your friends sidle up to you to chat and compliment you on your attire for the evening. And while you smile along with them and do your best to remain present, you feel your eyes once again straying to the frustratingly gorgeous dark-haired archer by the bar. And of course, she’s already looking your way. You swallow hard, ready to just say “fuck it” and go talk to her, when a mic feedback diverts your attention.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” You freeze and squeeze your eyes shut as you hear your partner’s voice over the microphone. No, no. No, no, no, sweet jesus, please no.

You carefully open your eyes and look up to see that unfortunately you weren’t dreaming, and your partner is now crossing the room towards you with a microphone in his hand. “It’s no secret how much I care about this magnificent girl right here,” he says as he approaches you. You pray for the ground to swallow you whole before he reaches you.

You look over at Kate again to find her watching your partner. Her expression is unreadable as she takes a long, slow sip of her whiskey.

“Y/n, we’ve spent seven beautiful months together so far,” Your partner is still talking. God, why is he still talking?

He finally reaches you, taking your hand in his, and slotting his fingers through yours. His gaze is piercing as he smiles at you. “And I know this may be a little fast, but I’ve known you were the one from the first moment I laid eyes on you, so…”

You rapidly shake your head at him, but he either doesn’t register it or doesn’t care as he crouches down to one knee in front of you and pulls a small box from his pocket. “Y/n L/n, will you do me the wonderful honors of becoming my wife?”

He opens the box to “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd, but to you, it suddenly feels like the banquet hall is twenty degrees hotter. You look around and all you can see is the same expectant gaze copied and pasted on all the faces of your partner’s friends. You can’t take it. It feels like the walls are closing in. You have to escape.

“I’m sorry,” is all you say before turning and breaking for the nearest exit. You push your way through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs of dissent you hear as you go.

You push open the door to the fire escape, the winter chill cooling your overheated skin. You walk over to the ledge and place your hands upon it. There’s a fresh blanket of snow on it that chills your palms to the bone, but you don’t care. It’s helping, actually. Calming down your racing heart. You swear you can’t remember the last time you were that fucking embarrassed.

You had never even vaguely insinuated that you were anywhere close to being ready to get married, so you have no idea what your partner was thinking. Seven months wasn’t nearly enough time to tie the knot—at least for you.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, hold the breath in your chest for a couple beats, and then exhale. You repeat this breathing exercise over and over the way your therapist taught you. Over and over until you feel normal again.

You hadn’t even heard the fire escape door creek open, but you did hear that familiar voice. “My, my…” it was Kate. Of fucking course it was Kate.

“…that was quite a spectacle,” she says.

“Go ahead,” you gripe, not even bothering to look up at her, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. “Make fun. You’re just loving this shit, aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of Kate’s Docs on the concrete, then the sound of her setting her whiskey glass down on the ledge beside you, followed by a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. “Actually, I come in peace. I just…thought you could use a friend, that’s all,” is all she says, and something about her tone has you opening your eyes to look up at her. She’s looking down at you, one eyebrow raised. “Can’t you?” She adds.

“A friend?” You say incredulously. “Come on. Don’t act like you didn’t just come out here to tease me about what just happened in there,”

Kate sighs. “No, in all honesty, I think it’s shitty what your boyfriend did; putting you on the spot like that,” she folds her arms as she leans her weight on the ledge, turning her head to look at you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way your heart is fluttering, and coincidentally has been fluttering since Kate stepped outside. “I can’t believe he’d do something like that. I mean, I never gave him any indication that I was ready to get married,”

Kate scoffs. “Well, of course you’re not ready to get married. What had it been, like two months?”

Your jaw works as you scowl, and you can’t help firing back at her. “No, you’re thinking of how long you dated your ex before moving in with her,” you say, hinting at Kate’s most recent ex-girlfriend Kathleen. But as soon as you make the jab, you wish you can take it back, especially when you see the way Kate’s face falls in response.

“Oh, well…yeah. Everyone knows how that turned out,” she says.

Your shoulders deflate and you wish you didn’t care so much about the “kicked puppy” expression on Kate’s face, but you can’t take it. You don’t wanna be the person who sticks their finger in that open wound and twists it. Sure, Kate and Kathleen had had a bit of a whirlwind romance, moving in together alarmingly early just for Kathleen to cheat three months later. (Not that you were keeping tabs or anything, though you maybe possibly definitely were) you didn’t really want to be the one to rub that in Kate’s face. That wasn’t who you were, or who you wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, Kate,” you say earnestly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s probably still a sore spot—“

“No,” Kate cuts in. “You’re right. I was moving way too fast with Kathleen. Hence, why she probably freaked out and cheated on me,”

“Don’t blame yourself for that,” you said. “Don’t you ever. She cheated on you because she fucking sucks. It has nothing to do with who you are as a person. You were a dedicated girlfriend because you cared about her, and she took that shit for granted,”

Kate looks at you a little surprised, and you assume it’s probably because of how impassioned you’d sounded. You hadn’t meant to. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly going to bat for Kate. Actually, you didn’t want to think about why. All you knew was that you weren’t going to let her justify being cheated on. Fuck that.

You’re blessedly saved from your own thoughts as Kate changes the subject. “Well, I dodged a bullet anyway. Her place smelled like cat piss seventy percent of the time,” she says.

You can’t help chuckling. “God, how did you tolerate that?”

“With great effort,” Kate quips.

The two of you share another laugh, and as it subsides, you look out over the city together, taking in snowy New York. As the silence stretches between the two of you, your mind goes back to the party inside and the proposal you’d just rejected. “What am I gonna say to him?” You ask fretfully. “He’s in there right now, probably looking for me,”

“Uh, try ‘fuck you, I don’t want to get married’” Kate says cavalierly.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, thank you, Kate. That’ll go over well,” but there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. But then you sigh and turn away from the ledge. “I guess maybe I should go back in there,”

“Yeah, maybe,” Kate clutches the bend of your arm, gently. Her touch sends a spark all the way up to your shoulder, until it tickles the side of your neck. “…but maybe not yet,” she says. She pulls you back and you let her. As she does, she passes you her whiskey glass.

“Here,” she says as she offers you what’s left of it. “I think you need this more than me,”

You hesitate before accepting the drink. You wind up swallowing too large of a gulp and coughing. “God, that’s stronger than I remember,” you say breathlessly, your eyes watering.

“Easy, tiger,” Kate says, smiling down at you.

You feel your face flush under Kate’s gaze. “I’m not used to hard alcohol, okay? I’ve always been more of a wine,”

“Mhm,” Kate still smiles at you.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You accuse as you take another sip.

Kate shrugs and takes a step closer. “Eh, maybe just a little,” she rests her arm on the ledge, dangerously close to your back and your tummy gives an unwelcome flip. “It’s entertaining to see you flustered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the great Y/n L/n lose her composure before,”

“Yeah, well…I’ve never seen the amazing Kate Bishop care about anyone but herself. This is a good look on you,” you crack back.

“I mean, it is the season of giving,” Kate replies. “I’ll be right back to my regular self come January 1st,”

“Kate, it’s okay,” you laugh as you set the now empty whiskey glass down. “I’m grateful that you’re here for me. Really,”

Kate’s expression shifts. Her guard falters, and her eyes soften ever so slightly. “Grateful, huh?”

She reaches out to brush a lock of hair back from your face. Her touch is surprisingly gentle. You feel your breath catch as her fingers tickle your skin. You look up at Kate again in time to see her tilt her head slightly as it assessing you.

“You’re shivering,” She murmurs, so quietly that you almost don’t catch it.

“Am I?” You ask weakly, even though you know Kate is right. You’re shaking like a leaf. Maybe it’s the cold. Maybe it’s the way Kate is looking at you. Or maybe it’s both.

Kate’s hand drifts to your arm, rubbing up and down gently as if to warm you. And it does, but most of the warmth is in your lower belly, and it doesn’t go away no matter how much you will it to.

“Kate…” There’s so much that you want to say in that moment, but all that comes out is Kate’s name.

“Y/n,” Kate responds, her voice barely above a whisper.

She closes the gap between the two of you now, her warm body against yours, her hands cupping your face. Her forehead presses against yours and you close your eyes and lean into it, your hands gripping her forearms.

“Kate,” you say her name again. And again, it’s the only thing your body will let you say.

“I know,” she mumbles. She pulls back enough to look you in the eyes.

“I…”

“I know,” she repeats, pecking a kiss on the corner of your mouth, lighting a spark to the match in your belly.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of feet approaching just outside the balcony doors and you suddenly feel like a bucket of water has been dumped all over you. Kate steps back from you and drapes herself causally over the ledge just as the door opens and your partner steps foot outside, looking a little breathless.

“Y/n!” He crosses the balcony toward you, taking you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. About all of that in there,”

“It’s fine,” you say tightly, forcing a smile. You can’t look at Kate. Can’t even risk a glance in her direction. You can still feel the heat of her body against yours. The ghost of her lips at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never been this sexually frustrated in your life. You keep your gaze focused on your partner who seems altogether oblivious to the tension in the air.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” your partner rambles on. “I know how much you hate spectacles. I should’ve never ever tried to do something like that. I just love you so much and I thought….well, maybe we don’t have to get engaged right away. Maybe we can just start with promise rings and go from there,”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Kate clears her throat. “Well, I suddenly feel like the butt end of the bread, so I’ll just…” Kate gives a two finger salute, then disappears back into the building before you can stop her.

“So, what do you think?” Your partner asks, caressing your arms and giving you a hopeful look. You resist the urge to peer over his shoulder as if Kate will miraculously reappear.

You force yourself to pay attention to your partner, but your mind keeps straying back to Kate—the shared whiskey, the fleeting touches, and so much eye contact it made your knees weak. You look into your partner’s eyes, trying to envision the rest of your relationship with him. An alternate timeline where he was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Someone you wanted to move in with and adopt a pet, and go on frequent dates with. But when you try to picture all of those things, you’re not seeing him. You’re seeing a plucky archer with a penchant for quippy dialogue and the sexiest smirk you’ve ever seen in your life.

And it just wouldn’t be fair to yourself or to him if you stayed.

“I can’t,” you finally say.

His face falls. “You…what?”

“I don’t want any of this,” you said. “I told you before when you brought up moving in together that you were moving too fast for me. And then you turned around and bought an engagement ring and planned to propose to me at a party in front of all your friends. I set a boundary and you pushed it. And that doesn’t change now that you’re trying to backpedal and suggest promise rings,”

Your partner is speechless for a moment. Crestfallen. “But…I thought you’d be happy,” he said. “I thought if all of our friends were around and—“

“Well, I wasn’t. And to be honest, I don’t think I have been for months. I’m sorry. It’s over,”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you shake your head at him. “Please don’t make this harder. I’m so sorry. I just can’t do this anymore,”

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes pleading. But you don’t waver. You just hold his gaze steadily. Maybe it was a bit sociopathic to say, but this was the most powerful you’d ever felt.

Finally, he slowly turns and walks back into the building, leaving you alone, somewhere between liberated and yearning. And you know who for…

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