"It was real. It was real to me."
Yelena let go of a long sigh, rubbing her tired face as she walked out of the bathroom. The shower felt nice; she had that much to say for her predicament. And it wasn't even one of their worst fights- or more like almost losses- yet.
She just got her ass handed to her.
And damn if she wasn't feeling it right now.
The tower was quiet, presumably because everyone else was licking their wounds, or in Bob's case, buried in a book somewhere. Fine by her, she was used to this. She always licked her wounds in silence. That was all she knew, anyway. She went to the couch and half threw herself down on it, groaning as her body protested the harsh movement, but the feeling of the soft cushions did help after a moment.
She sat there, in the silence of the late afternoon, wishing she could stop thinking in Russian, working out how she could fix her routine so she would not get caught with her pants around her ankles again, (metaphorically, she would never be caught with her pants down) and trying to stop the drumming pain that was coming from her temple where she got knocked the fuck out not even an hour ago. The stitches from Medbay were good, surgical. But the numbing had worn off and she was feeling it now.
something Cool gently plopped down on her face-when had she leaned her head back, and she relished the cold that seeped onto her wound before peeking at the person who had unceremoniously plopped down beside her, "Man. Talk about an ass whoopin'," John sighed, his accent a little thicker than usual (he must have been beat. He only gets loose like that when he's tired) and Yelena snorted, "for some of us, yeah. My ass for sure." he huffed a laugh before leaning his head back like her's the two blonds sighing in sync. "I kinda wan' chinese tonight, any preference?" she hummed, closing her one eye again, "no not really. Chinese sounds good-" "Well, I want pizza."
Ava's voice appeared to her other side, along with the sound of her phasing in, "Oh come ON, we always have pizza after a fight-" "and? I want pizza. It's tradition." Yelena snorted again at the sound of the argument she was stuck between before another person entered the room, their footfalls deliberately loud, "I was thinking Polish. There's a new place a few blocks down," Bucky added to the conversation, sitting in one of the armchairs with a groan, "You know I agree with our Ghostly friend, pizza is always the victory dinner," Alexi added as he bounded in the room, flopping into the other open armchair, "ok and what about this fight screams "victory! we won!" to you Alexi? The part where we barely made it out alive?" John argued, still not moving from his relaxed position leaning into Yelena but his tone snarky in the playful way everyone had gotten to know best, "the part where we won, Vanya! We are victorious, no?" John grumbled something under his breath but didn't fire back,
"Or I could make dinner? I was thinking of lasagna." Bob's voice entered the chaos in the same way he entered every room, calming and with a spark of sass- which hadn't come out yet. "Lasagna sounds good, Bob. You sure you want to cook, though? I think it's my night?" Bucky asked, sitting up a little from his position, "Oh yeah, I'm good to. Besides, no offense to anyone, but I think I'm the only one who's not currently a tenderized pork loin." aaaaaaand there was the spark of sass.
The rest of the group continued to talk, but Yelena leaned into the couch, the feeling of the peas on her face cool enough to numb the pain and keep her semi awake. It felt safe, it felt normal.
"You good, Lena?" she heard John ask softly beside her, also not moving from his position still, be it too comfortable to or feeling just as safe as she did for once. She smiled, reaching out to poke his thigh, careful not to poke the area he'd been assaulted with a metal pole.
