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Job well done. We celebrate. Yes!

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If you had asked Kate Bishop what she thought about half of the Gala’s she attended each year her answer was simple.

Boring. Snobby. An event full of people with wanna be “big dick energy” but severely lacking. She went to these so called charity events because she wanted to be a supportive daughter and because she thought it was generally spreading awareness to legitimate causes. (How was she to know that her mother was actually funnelling the profits made from such events into an underground criminal empire?) She would do her best to put on a semi pleasant persona when someone with money came to pay her a visit - her mother was an important woman so “appearances mattered” or so her mother always said. It would last a while, at least until Kate got bored or sick of old men ranting on about their fortunes or their attractive grandson looking for a date. Then she would hit the bar, steal a bottle of whatever she could and head to her apartment to get absolutely tanked on free booze. It was a bearable affair, one that she could absolutely live without but was also used too so she could deal with it.

Now things were different.

Her mother was in jail; had been for a while now and with no signs of being released - others were recruited to take on the roles of ‘Gala Organisation’. It meant that Kate Bishop was no longer required to attend events. Could no longer steal booze and had a lot more free time on her hands. How many damn Gala’s did she attend in a month anyway?!

That is how she found herself free on a Saturday evening with not a single plan or invite to do anything or go anywhere. It’s kind of sad really. But every other year she would be attending the prestigious soirée for “building homes for the homeless”. She would have a dress laid out on her bed and a driver waiting to take her once she was presentable. Now, she had a one eyed golden retriever tearing apart one of her converse sneakers and drooling all over her bed. God she really needed to get her life in order. Not that she could ever get mad at Pizza Dog. That dog has been one of the best companions she’s had … well, ever. She sits down on the bed next to her fluff monster and strokes his back gently.

“Well it’s just you and me, pal. What do you want to do tonight?”

It’s not as if she is really expecting an answer. He’d probably be happy staying in - licking his own butthole for all she knew.

She lets out a sigh and looks around the room. It’s not nearly as messy as it would have been a year ago. What used to be piles upon piles of dirty laundry is now a half filled basket of said soiled clothing. Her bedside tables which were once covered in half full cups of tea, gone. Now stands a lamp that actually works and pictures. Pictures of her life. Of Pizza Dog. Her parents. Yelena. She reaches over to the picture of her and the Russian assassin - it’s of the first time they went to see the tree at the Rockefeller Centre. It’s Kate’s favourite picture purely because of her assassin’s expression. The look of pure bliss and wonder. An image capturing the child inside her lethally trained assassin. Yes. This was absolutely her favourite picture. Kate smiles, remembering the moment always brings her such giddiness. God she misses Yelena when she goes away. It really is disgusting how much she could miss this human.

“That was a good day, no?”

Kate jumps off the bed violently letting out a small yelp in doing so. The picture in her hands goes flying across the room. Kate half expects to hear glass of the frame shatter onto the floor but the sound never comes. She looks up to find the blond holding the picture with an aggravating smirk on her face.

“Jesus Yelena! How many times have I told you not to do that!”

“What? I used front door this time. Is not my fault you don’t hear me.”

Kate rolls her eyes. Yelena is being cheeky, and she knows it. She loves this version of the Assassin. It means that whatever job she has been working on is finally over and she is free. At least until she is handed another assignment. Kate runs her fingers through her hair and pushes it off her face, then laughs. It’s absurd she knows but she’s just… happy. And she doesn’t feel like hiding it. Not in front of the one person who makes her feel this way. She moves closer and wraps an arm around the blond, pulling her in close. She hums happily because this is the best feeling in the world.

Yelena takes her in, brows threading together because it is not often that she sees her person so carefree. She looks to the photo and can’t hide a smile of her own - it was her favourite day too.

“What were you doing with this, huh?”

“Nothing, just looking at you.”

Yelena does this thing when she stores something. A moment, an action, a saying; that is special to her. It’s when she looks deep into your eyes and holds them before a half smirk forms on the right side of the face. It’s a rare sight. Especially in their time together but Kate was rather quick to pick up on it. The first time being that very day. Another; when Kate washed her first load of laundry ever. When Kate told her she loved her for the first time. You know, moments. Like right now, Yelena has that look. Though not a particularly momentous event it’s one that hits a spot inside of her just right; so right that she has to keep it with her always. It’s the sentimental being that she is. Most people would never believe just how precious Yelena could be, but she does and that’s one of the things she loves most about the assassin.

“Someone is being extra milyy today.”

Kate can’t help but giggle before pressing a series of pecks to the other woman’s lips. God she loves her and her sporadic use of Russian in her forever expanding vocabulary. Kate licks her lips before pulling back and putting the picture where it belongs.

“So are you going to tell me how your mission was or not?”

“Aye are you kidding? I am professional assassin. I can’t tell you work things.”

Kate raises an eye brow and Yelena holds up her arms in surrender. She can’t hide anything from her.

“Okay, it was good. Job well done. Let us celebrate, yes!”

This is her favourite Yelena. The jokester. The one who wants to have fun and forget about the fact that she is a trained assassin who could kill a person with probably every single item in the apartment that they seemingly share. She isn’t going to push her on details, especially if her job went off without a hitch. There is no need to dampen her spirits or annoy her more than she already does.

“Alright, so, how exactly do you want to celebrate your ‘job well done’?”

There is a glint in green eyes as the assassin reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out two tickets. Kate’s expression deadpans.

“Seriously? You want to go to a Gala. Who are you again?”

“What? Is no good? I thought you like big party!”

Yelena throws her arms up and “dances” awkwardly.

Kate groans.


It’s going to be a long night.

Dreams of lounging on the couch in sweat pants and devouring pizza long gone now that Kate has put on her best outfit with such short notice. She’s gone for a sleek black dress that clings to her figure, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. If her mother could see her now she would either be proud that she is finally in a dress or mortified because this dress is borderline inappropriate. Sure, it’s not her normal go to choice of style but if Yelena says “dress to impress” she sure as hell is going to do all that she can to catch her assassin off guard. This dress, black heels and a red lip were surely going to get some results.

“So what kind of event is this anyway? I’ve never heard of an IDOL party before.”

The arrow enthusiast admits as she applies the final touches of her makeup. She looks good. At least she looks like she’s actually put some effort into looking decent, she guesses. Her heart flutters in her chest when she turns to leave the bathroom. Of course she knows that Yelena thinks she is attractive - she has told her countless times but this is different. Yelena has never seen her like this. Like a … woman? Hell, she has never seen herself as, well, a woman. She is nervous. God, what if Yelena laughs at her? What if this whole plan was a terrible idea?


She knows this is just her insecurities trying to get the best of her. It’s not going to work this time. No. She can do this. She takes a deep breath, pushes out her chest and struts out of the bathroom.

Yelena, thankfully has her back turned away from her. Busying herself with her own outfit. It’s actually kind of perfect. Kate watches on as her Russian assassin shakes her head as she buckles the strap of her pumps.

“No, no, no. No spoilers Kate Bishop. You always asking so many questions.”

The assassin begins to stand and turn. Kate holds her breath in anticipation.

“Why you can’t - Oh der’mo” (Oh shit)

If Kate could predict any sort of reaction it was not this. The moment Yelena sees her she is a mess. Looses her footing. Her eyes instantly turn dark and the flush on her face. It is spectacular. And Kate has never felt this god damn attractive in her life. What is even more excellent is the fact that Yelena is actively trying to pretend she isn’t completely turned on by the sight in front of her. Coughing, running her fingers through her hair, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Kate lived for this.

“Doing okay there, stud?”

And who the hell does she think she is right now? Stud? Where is this coming from?

Whatever the case, something snaps inside of Yelena. Her head whips up to look at Kate directly in the eyes as she storms over to the arrow enthusiast - pushing her to the closest wall and devouring her lips in the dirtiest kiss Kate has ever had. If Kate had it her way they would forget all about this bloody Gala and explore whatever this new sexy power struggle is. But there are tickets involved and Yelena did seem kind of excited. So. As much of a struggle as it is, she pulls back. Her lipstick is absolutely ruined but she doesn’t care. The way Yelena struggles to breathe, bites her lip - worth it.

“Kate Bishop, you try to kill me.”

God her voice. Kate can’t help it any longer. She giggles.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Come on. Don’t we have an event to go to?”

She leaves with a wink over the shoulder and Yelena is left having to pick her jaw metaphorically up off the floor.


The taxi ride to wherever they were going to was torture.

The electricity that flew between the pair was palpable. If Yelena had touched her even slightly, the night would be over. There was no way that Kate would be able to control herself. Not with the assassin wearing that incredible cut of a power suit with pants that show off her sensational ass. It wasn’t fair that the Russian looked so freaking good in anything. This three piece suit especially. And the suspenders… how dare she. This was going to be the longest night of her life and it hadn’t even started yet. Christ. She can barely make it through the car ride.

Her only saving grace is knowing that Yelena is in the exact same position. Even if she refuses to admit it. Kate knows that she is struggling to keep her hands to herself.

They pull up to the venue. It looks kinda lovely. Low key. Unusual.

If Kate was being honest, this was not what she was expecting.

A Gala.

Happening at a restaurant?

That wasn’t exactly normal. But maybe the event planner was just starting out? Or maybe they were going in a different direction to bring in a different clientele?

There were no waiters bringing around finger food or bubbly. Hell there wasn’t even a predominant male attendee trying to big note himself. In fact, it seemed like a typical evening at a fancy restaurant. Perhaps Yelena had misunderstood what a Gala actually was? The guy at the door didn’t even ask for tickets.

Something wasn’t right.

But Yelena didn’t flinch as they made their way inside. Her strides were strong, knowing, certain of where she was leading her. There was no need for questions.

At least not until she heard a booming voice scream across the venue.

“There she is! Yelena! Moya doch’”

Doch’? Doch’. Kate freezes. She knows that word. She’s heard it before. She lets go of Yelena’s hand as she tries to figure out what is going on. Watches on as the assassin is scooped up into a crushing hug by the giant bearded man. A smaller, older, slender woman watches on fondly at the exchange.

Doch’. Daughter.

Moya Doch’. My daughter.

Oh god. Oh god. OH GOD.

That giant of a man is her father.

That giant man is her father and she is wearing this. THIS. Oh god. This is not happening. This is so not appropriate. It’s too soon. She is not prepared at all for this moment. For them to be here. For her to be meeting them, in this outfit. She wants to crawl under a rock and die.

Until bright green eyes find hers.

Until she sees the excited, ridiculously happy look on her face that turns sheepish when she realises that Kate is looking - well, glaring at her. She’s realised that there was no job. Yelena had just been hiding the fact that her parents were in town. Oh how stupid she was.

The Russian assassin shrugs her shoulders and tries to stifle a laugh. It fails.

“Okay so I lied. Maybe. Little bit. But look. Job well done! We celebrate. Yes!”

Kate has no time to respond. As soon as Yelena finishes talking the giant man yells happily and pulls the arrow enthusiast into a bone crushing hug. She can’t breathe but she doesn’t… hate the experience.


This is going to be a long night.

But there is Vodka.

And yeah okay, maybe they need to work on their communication but Yelena looks stupid happy right now hanging out with her parents.

And maybe.

Just maybe.

She kind of loves that this is how her Saturday night has turned out.