Chapter 1
You were always in awe of your teammates - never afraid to get in the middle of the action and get their hands dirty. However, you could not relate.
To say that being able to control and move things with your mind from a distance is a blessing… would be an understatement. For as long as you could remember, touching anything sticky or slimy and not being able to immediately wash it off, can send you into a spiral.
To be fair, many of your coworkers have sensory issues of their own: Peter refuses to touch microfiber, because he has chronically dry hands and he “always forgets” to use the nice lotion you bought for him.
Bucky hates whipped frosting on anything because it leaves a weird film on his tongue, so Sam makes it a point to buy whipped-frosting cupcakes for any occasion.
Kate despises the way that mud feels when it dries on her skin, making it anyone else’s responsibility to play outside with Lucky in the rain.
From what you knew of Natasha, she could never stand velvet. Once, Tony had ordered her a velvet dress for an undercover mission and was insistent that she wore it because it “matched the theme of the gala.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she took one of his suits outside, put multiple grenades in it, and laughed while watching it blow up. Allegedly.
Yelena is no different with her aversions, strongly disliking the way that sweatshirts pill up on the inside after getting some good use. While her and Natasha may not have been truly related, they do (allegedly) take out their frustrations the same way.
The other day, you’d been heading to your car and found Yelena standing over a smoldering pile of fabric. When you asked her what the hell was going on, she simply replied, “They were getting scratchy.” and shrugged before walking off.
When she’s in her element though, Yelena has no issues being drenched in your worst nightmares, getting back on the quinjet coated in blood and gore. Maybe it was a Russian thing, because Bucky is no different. They’d stroll up the ramp, grab a clean cloth, and start wiping down their weapons without a second thought spared for the enemy’s brains stuck in their hair.
Sometimes it makes you gag, just imagining the feeling of blood between your fingers.
Now you’re here, on a mission fighting some massive, ungodly creatures from who-knows-where.
Picking a target across the street, you lift a sprinter van off the ground with a pink tendril of magic, and throw the car towards the monster. Apparently, you had fully underestimated the range at which the green… goo of their insides would splatter. The impact and subsequent explosion caused their viscera to splash all over your face and torso, making you freeze and rendering you unable to move.
Feeling the way it starts to run down your skin and cling to your suit makes the panic start to set in.
Your voice is scratchy and small as you speak into your earpiece.
“Uh, guys, can I have some assistance over here? Please? I’m sorry- I just…” trailing off into a whine and trying to stop yourself from crying.
Yelena is the first person you see. She’s on top of a neighboring building, blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight, engaging in hand-to-hand combat with one of the more humanoid creatures.
The moment she hears you, her eyes begin to search the area- locking onto you almost instantly. You can’t quite read the expression on her face from this far away, but her movements somehow quicken as she kicks the enemy, pulling two knives off her sides and shoving them into its neck.
At this point you’ve dropped to your knees, hands held out in front of you, a slight pink glow emanating from your skin, your anxiety starting to visibly radiate off you.
The Russian’s smooth, even tone rings in your ears, assuring that she is on her way. Your eyes trail back up towards her, catching sight of her hooking the ledge of the building before throwing herself off the roof with practiced ease.
Your gaze shifts back to your hands, and a sob escapes you now that the slime has started to cool and dry onto your skin. You are soon aware of Yelena’s presence as her shadow falls over you, a quiet “Shhhh,” hitting your ears.
“We’ve got to get you away from here, киса, up, up.” Hearing her nickname for you eases your panic slightly, knowing you’re safe now that a teammate has made it to you.
Her gloved hands rest on the sides of your torso, gently urging you off the concrete.
You stand slowly, her voice muttering, “It’s alright, I got you, come this way,” as she ushers you towards the back of a nearby alley, away from the middle of the action.
Her voice raises and hardens slightly as she calls out for Barnes, giving him an update in Russian over the comms. You sense urgency in her tone, some anxiety of her own blending into the words she says.
She leans you against the brick wall, the coolness shocking you out of your current state, making you shiver slightly as she guides you back to the ground.
Once you get settled, and the pink aura around you starts to dissipate, you notice Yelena fumbling around with the pockets of her vest.
She’s muttering and cursing to herself, and apologizes when she notices your brows furrow.
“Sorry, it’s new, I can’t- fuck, where are they…” she trails off while still rummaging.
You can’t really comprehend how long it takes, but she suddenly exclaims “YES! Ha! I knew I did not forget them!”
You jump at the noise.
“Oh, I am sorry, but look!”
She pulls out a little Ziploc baggie with… baby wipes.
A goofy grin stretches across her face.
“Yelena, what is that, what are you doing?” You ask as she pulls a wipe from the bag, reaching for your temple.
You flinch slightly at the sudden movement.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, it is just a wet wipe.” She says as she retracts her hand, a look of concern taking over. She waits to move again until you consent.
“Why? Why do you have them?” Your brows knit together again, eyes questioning, confusion evident.
Yelena is not one to worry about her own hygiene while on missions, more worried about stashing snacks on her person and on jets.
Her head cocks to the side a bit before stating, “They are for this! You do not like when things get on you, no? You almost throw up when cracking eggs, and won’t touch Fanny or Lucky’s toys if they are wet. I keep them to help you!”
She outstretches the wipe once again, eyes questioning if she can go ahead.
You give her a small nod, and gesture to have one for yourself.
She passes you the one she has been holding, no longer pristine and white as the goo on her own hands has rubbed off on it as well.
Yelena grabs another, and works to wipe off your forehead as you attempt to clean your hands, trying not to look as you do so.
Kate’s voice in your ear causes you to jump again, and you feel the blonde’s other hand come to rest on your shoulder to ground you.
Kate is muffled, but you think she mentions Maria expediting extraction and sharing the meetup location.
Barnes, Sam, and Peter all respond with their understanding.
Yelena grabs another wipe after tossing the original to the side, and offers you a fresh one as well. You accept, and continue to work on cleaning up your wrists and arms.
She starts on trying to get some chunks out of your hair when she is abruptly interrupted by a creature growling from the mouth of the alley.
Naturally, your hands begin to warm and glow, prepping for an attack, but Yelena is already up and striding away towards the monster.
She pulls out her knives again, closing the distance without hesitation. The assassin throws one from at least ten feet away, the blade settling straight in the enemy’s torso. It seems to be caught off guard, a loud cry coming from its throat as it stumbles.
She screams as she picks up speed, reaching for a larger weapon before launching herself off the side of a garbage bin. She lands on the shoulders of the creature, shoving one of the knives into an eye, and using the larger blade to slit its throat in a quick, smooth motion.
The gash is deep, and they both quickly fall to the ground.
You watch helplessly, still sitting down and holding the wipe between your fingers.
Yelena easily slips out from beneath the large figure, she then rolls it on its back, pulling each of the knives from where they are embedded. She wipes the metal along her thighs to clean up some of the mess, before coolly making her way back towards you.
She is ruthless. A killing machine. Raised to murder and then run. Watching her take out enemies never fails to shock you.
Her brutal nature rivals Bucky’s, as they are fearless even when using such small weapons or even their bare hands. They walk away unphased, like they didn’t brutally take a life or blow up a building.
And yet, here she is, walking right back up to you with a look of worry etched in her features.
“Are you alright, киса? The jet will be here any moment.”
You don’t realize you’ve been staring. She calls to you again, hesitant.
“Yes, yes I’m alright, ‘Lena, thank you.”
You reach for the Ziploc and hand it to her, feeling decently clean compared to how you started.
She accepts it, still holding her blades now all in one hand. The blonde pulls out a wipe, and begins to carefully clean the crevices of the knives.
You giggle and roll your head back.
She glares.
“Why are you laughing?” Her eyes are focused, and she pulls another wipe out for the next weapon.
You keep chuckling, “Yelena, please, your gloves are covered in green! Why would you not clean them first? You are going to keep getting goo all over your things.”
She looks quizzically between you, the wipes, and the knives.
“But there will not be enough baby cleaners to use on myself and on them! Why would I waste using on me?”
An explanation starts to leave your mouth when the sound of the quinjet can be heard overhead, comms lighting up with instructions quickly after.
Yelena helps you up and brushes your shoulders off, shaking you lightly for reassurance. You both head towards the street, seeing your team already gathering.
Bucky is equally as covered in shit as Yelena is, but that’s to be expected at this point.
“You okay, kid?” He starts to walk towards you, and you nod. He pulls you under his metal arm as the jet lands, and you all start to make your way over.
“I’m okay. Could be better, just can’t wait for a fucking shower, man.”
The two of you laugh, but you do need to give credit to Yelena.
“It’s really all thanks to Lena, though,” you lower your voice to a whisper before asking “did you know she keeps wet wipes in her vest for me?”
A deep, hearty laugh leaves Bucky as a grin slides across his face.
“I did not, but that’s fuckin’ hilarious. Never knew she’d be such a softy, never pegged her as this much of a simp.”
You stop dead in your tracks, causing Bucky to stumble.
“James. What the actual shit did you just say to me? ‘Simp’? Who the hell are you?”
He doesn’t really know what to say, concerned that he had said something wrong.
“Uh, Peter- he,” he gestured to the kid ahead of them, “he told me that it means like, ‘head over heels’ or some shit like that?”
“Why on god’s green earth would he be teaching you that? You’re literally so old. You don’t need to be saying that.”
Bucky pulls you back into him, both of you trying not to lose your breath from laughing.
Yelena and Kate have already made it to the jet and the blonde yells out once she makes it inside.
“Hey, nerds! Hurry! There are snacks in here guys!” She holds up some Goldfish and granola bars as she frantically waves her hands at you.
Once everyone has boarded and you start towards the compound, you make your way to where Peter is double-fisting bags of Gushers.
“Spoods, are you sure you need that much sugar?”
“Listen, my blood sugar drops after so much activity! Gotta restock the energy, y’know?” He says, through a mouth full of fruit snacks.
“Mhm, yeah okay, Pete. Anyway, got a question for you.”
“Sure, hit me. Not physically, please!” He yelps as you make your way closer to him.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine. So. Bucky said that you’ve been teaching him some slang? How did you manage to use ‘simp’ in a conversation with that man? Because color me intrigued.” You ask, sitting down next to him in a row of seats, starting to snack on some carrots.
Peter’s face instantly turns as red as his suit as he stutters and reaches for another pack of Gushers.
“Nuh-uh. None of that. You have to tell me, because I am hella suspicious of you. Don’t make me whip out the magic in the jet, I know you hate the turbulence it causes.”
You’ve snatched the Gushers out of his hands, and make the threat when he grabs for the actual box.
“Who were you talking about when ‘simp’ came up in the conversation, Spidey.”
“No one! I was making him watch Smosh! Um, specifically the Submissive and Breedable music video with bbno$!”
His words come out so fast that you can barely comprehend it.
“He, um, he commented on Amanda being hot! And I told him that everyone simps over her!”
“I do not believe you. No shot Barnes would not have commented on Amanda, he would have seen bbno$ and passed out because that man is gay as hell. Don’t lie to me.” You say incredulously, rolling your eyes dramatically.
Peter leans into you, voice soft.
“Listen, can we talk about this later? I promise I’ll tell you the truth?”
He’s hesitant, and his eyes flicker behind you for a fraction of a second before shifting his gaze out the window, then back to you.
You narrow your own eyes at him before turning to look behind you.
Yelena and Kate are seated across the aisle now, Maria standing with her arms resting on the back of their seats. Kate has her back to you, but she’s animatedly telling Maria about the fight, gesturing with her hands, ponytail bouncing as she moves.
Yelena has her cleaning kit laid across her and Kate’s laps, four blades resting on the leather mat, another in her hands. She’s finally taken off her gloves, and is using a clean cloth and a bottle of water to wipe them down.
Bucky yells out to her in Russian, and she tosses the water over to him.
You turn to find Barnes, standing next to the small table, with Wilson across from him. They are both also cleaning their weapons- Bucky using a cloth and the water to clean his knives, Sam making a show of wiping down Redwing. Bucky scoffs and shoots Sam an annoyed glare.
“Kate, oh my god, please stop moving!” Yelena groans, causing your attention to shift back to the group of women.
She’s attempting to keep her knives on the kit as the archer continues to explain the mission.
“I’m sorry! It was just so cool, did you not see the way it fell? It was like out of a movie, man!” Kate replies, the leather shifting on her lap again as two of the weapons hit the floor.
Yelena curses in her native tongue, making Barnes whip his head up, yelling “Woah, woah, woah, language, Belova!”
She gruffly responds to him, clearly irritated.
Bucky then calls for Peter to join him and Wilson. The kid stands and starts to walk away before turning back to you.
“Deal? Later?”
You roll your eyes once again and reply “Yeah, whatever, deal.”
The plastic of the trial mix bag crinkles as you raise it and pour some in your mouth. You close your eyes and crack your neck as you chew, and when you open them Yelena is standing right in front of you.
A hand flies to your chest as you exclaim “Shit, Lena, you were not there two seconds ago.”
“Hi,” she says, slightly apologetic. “Kate is being twitchy, can I sit?”
You pat the seat next to you and she moves to sit.
“Thank you, I just really need to clean these, and she kept moving. Maria is more patient.”
Yelena casually unrolls the kit again, laying a few inches into your lap. On instinct you gently reach to hold the corner as she adjusts.
Her eyes flash up to you, a sharp glint to them, before softening again and raising the corner of her mouth into a small smile as her brain seems to realize it’s just you.
You wonder what that initial thought was that caused the hint of anger- was it just her instincts as well? Not having her own things, not having autonomy in the Red Room? Maybe it was her first line of defense back then. You’d known each other for two years now, and been on missions together for over one of those, but she was notoriously slow to warm to others..
It seemed like every time you interacted with Yelena, you saw a different piece of her rise to the surface. Whether it was her throwing her head back while laughing at a sitcom, or the look of longing in her features when she sees or hears something about Natasha. The tenderness she showed you no more than an hour ago, helping you come down for a panic attack. The unbridled rage she shows when protecting her team.
What did Bucky mean when he said he didn’t think she’s a softy? He sees the way she plays with Fanny, or how she radiates light when the team gets invited to Barton’s ranch and she gets to hang out with the children.
You’re broken out of your thoughts by Yelena’s smooth accent.
“Are you feeling okay? After getting a little bit clean, киса?” She’s still working on her blades, three of the five clean now.
“Yeah, yeah, I think so, thank you.” You’re fiddling with the buckle on the edge of the kit, “You know… Actually never mind.”
“What? What is it?” She shifts her body, turning a little towards you, concern laced in her features.
“The nickname, киса, what does it mean? Why do you call me that?” You ask softly, unsure of how the question will go over.
“Ah, it means ‘kitty,’ it is a term of endearment in Russian.” She nods as she responds, gesturing slightly with her hands, still holding a knife.
“You like cats,” she explains, “you are kind, you are sensitive, and you are reserved.”
You can’t help but smile at her reasonings, total softy, you think to yourself.
You aren’t quite sure how to best continue the conversation, because you’re sure there’s a blush crossing your cheeks if the light pink glow coming from your hands is any indication. You attempt to hide them under your thighs, balancing the kit on your knee.
“I see, I see, makes sense,” You finally reply, looking out the window instead of meeting the blonde’s gaze.
You still see Yelena in your periphery, though, and she is taking in the way your magic is escaping you.
“Are you sure you are okay?”
“Yes, I- I just, that is very sweet, Belova.” You nod, finally turning back to look at her, a soft smile on your lips.
She returns a smirk of her own, her focus shifting back to her weapons.
The rest of the flight back to the compound is a comfortable, warm, silence between the two of you, your shoulders gently brushing against each other from time to time as the jet moves.
The ambiance of the rest of the team chatting and laughing echoes in the background.