@prodiyal continued (x)
‘ — and taking the door off its hinges was the reasonable response? ’
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@prodiyal continued (x)
‘ — and taking the door off its hinges was the reasonable response? ’
it has taken her much longer than she thought it would, but ivy would much rather take it slow and make sure she has everything than rush on and do a shitty job. this is important, after all, even though she has every intention of playing it off as not a big deal. fuck knows she’d never hear the end of it.
phone in hand, she throws yelena a quick text to let her know she’s finally arrived.
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yelena is not someone that she sees too often, unless she’s with sophie. willow likes her, though she isn’t sure that the feeling is extended to her. maybe more of a basic courtesy, but she doesn’t let it bother her too much.
“ are you looking for soph’? “ she asks, trying to be helpful.
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‘ you do see the pattern here, don’t you? ’ if someone had been listening in on their conversation, they might have mistaken his tone for concern even. but it was the amusement he felt more than anything else.
she’d been too busy keeping her sights on the footsteps, trying to avoid falling into natalia’s footsteps, she hadn’t noticed that she’d walked straight into the mold instead.
‘ didn’t you want to be her once? no, wait - you thought you were her, isn’t it? and now here you are, playing the test pilot’s wife ... go on, tell me you’ve started taking ballet? ’
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‘ once - just once - could you walk into my place and not have some snide comment? ’
❛ --- you don’t look SO GOOD ❜ @prodiyal -- starter call !
@prodiyal asked: "is that supposed to make me feel better?"
if truth be told, carol had only really started paying attention halfway through. the fact that yelena had even elected to share any of this was a testament to either boredom or desperation. she had assumed the former given that alexei wasn’t in the office as expected. now, as yelena’s tone grows increasingly more strained, carol thinks otherwise. the story ends with a sharp crescendo, raised voice bouncing off the metal rafters extolling the struggles of raising a teenager.
there’s a pointed pause that feels like she’s supposed to say something. still mostly absorbed in the panel she’s been reassembling, carol doesn’t put a lot of thought in before speaking. ‘ sucks when you can’t kill them, huh? ’
it’s not until yelena’s heels appear to her right that she realizes the hangar’s been silent for a good couple of minutes. the question comes out significantly icier than before and carol swallows back a sigh, more than a little tempted to call alexei and tell him to get his ass over here.
‘ oh, shit. is that what you were hoping for? let me start over. ’ tools set aside with a quiet clank, carol straightens from her crouch. ‘ look, as much as every parent wants to believe their kid is special and unlike the rest, every teenager has the capacity to be an incredible asshole. it’s what they do. what we have to do is remember the times when they were tiny and cute and didn’t make us want to pitch them into the hudson. so he broke somebody’s nose and caught an attitude with you about it. we’ve all done worse for less. besides-- ’
retrieving her wrench from the ground, carol tries and fails to repress a grin. ‘ he’s got you and comrade killjoy as parents. respectfully, what the fuck did you expect? ’
but here’s the thing, she’s sasha’s mother. so the next time you take a pot-shot at her, i’ll return the favour ... you and i? we’re nothing, ivan. we’re not family. but yelena is. you don’t get to harm my family.
it was the subject he'd been ignoring for weeks now - longer. since ivan had opened his mouth and uttered that question ... it burned alexei to admit it, but the old bastard had seen the connection before either of them had even realised they'd been on a collision course. he'd denied it back then, ivan had straight up asked him if he'd been sleeping with yelena and alexei had denied it. but it wasn't just that any more, was it? it wasn't staying over for a night or two - he rarely slept at his apartment these days.
he could use the excuse that it was to make things easier on sasha - easier for the little boy to have one room. one home. not hauled from pillar to post and back again ... but that didn't explain why alexei would play with her hair in the early morning, staring up at the high ceiling of the penthouse, listening to her shallow breaths before morning cracked into life and the day was whisked away. it didn't explain why he would skim his thumb over her faded scars - that was choice, not necessity.
waiting until sasha had disappeared out the hangar door - hanging onto carol's hand while charlee swung out of the other, the kids giddy with the promise of ice-cream - and alexei sat down on the door frame of the beechcraft plane he was working on, biting the bullet before the small ounce of privacy could be interrupted.
' — what are we? '
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