“I can’t come check in on my teammate?” Bucky questioned sardonically as he stayed right where he was standing and stared over to Yelena. He’d worked enough missions with Belova to know the kind of mood she was in based on her tone alone, but something was keeping him from turning around and running in the other direction. Out of everyone on the Thunderbolts, he’d found that he cared about her the most.
“I’d say Fontaine was forcing me, but I’d be lying. I just.. I don’t know, I’m worried.” That seemed like a good place to start, but even saying it out loud made Bucky’s stomach turn in a way he wasn’t quite used to. The closest he’d gotten to that feeling was when it came to Sam, even if he’d never admit that to his friend.
So why was he admitting it to Yelena? Why did he turn away from his walk to come all the way to her apartment? He wasn’t sure. But he didn’t plan on leaving, even as she practically waved him off and told him to shut the door. He reached behind him and slowly did as he was told, staying inside of the apartment once the door was shut. Then, he took a quick glance to make sure Yelena wasn’t currently holding any weapons before he made his way towards one of the chairs across from her and sat down.
His posture was awkward and tense as he just stared and let the silence fill the air between them for a few more moments before speaking again. “I’m assuming you heard about the explosion.”
“Is Walker also getting a personalized house call?” Yelena doesn’t know why, but she hopes not. It’s a feeling she can quite articulate or fully realize. Bucky seems to care in a way that others do not. Alexei and Melina love her. Yelena knows that. If she up and disappeared (again), it’s been proven that someone would give a shit. But Bucky isn’t her parents. He’s her teammate, and — on a good day — her friend. His care is disconcerting to the woman who had grown up as an unloved girl. Yelena wants to thank him for checking in, but she doesn’t know how. Instead she just rises on short legs and drifts into the studio’s kitchen, leaving him in the living room.
Pulling two glasses out of the cabinet, Yelena unscrews the lid to her vodka bottle and evenly pours two doses. She hates tequila. That’s one thing she’s learned while on her journey of self discovery post subjugation. It’s only really tolerable in a margarita, but the margarita must have a lot of salt around the rim and some fruity flavor to dull the liquor in it. Vodka goes down easier. Returning to the living room, Yelena grabs the coasters and pushes one towards Bucky. The circular piece of wood is painted to look like a tiny Captain America shield. She had seen a pack of Avengers themed coasters and gotten them for a laugh. Her own is the Iron Man arc reactor; the Black Widow one has been removed from the pack and rests inside a drawer instead. She was going to throw it out but couldn’t bring herself to.
When she takes a swallow, Yelena manages to not cough from the burn. She’s gotten good at drinking by this point. Setting it back down on the coaster, green eyes are trained on Bucky’s face. It’s familiar this point, be it clean shaven or lined with dark stubble. She knows him, Yelena likes to think, even if to a small extent. “Out of everyone, you don’t need to worry about me.” Much to her surprise, her tone is softer than expected. There’s no venom behind the words. “See, I land on my feet. Very hard to kill.” Easy to turn to ash, though. “But thank you. That... it’s nice of you to check in.”
Of course she’s heard of the explosion. Everyone has, even if they’re not in the game. Yelena says, “I was invited.” No one knows that except Yelena and the Avengers coordinators. “I think they wanted another Black Widow on their roster, like how She-Hulk fills Bruce’s shoes. I laughed at them, told them no. I am not a Natasha replacement. I guess I made a good choice.” She picks up her glass to occupy her hands. “I’m sorry to hear about Sam. Is he okay? Having people you love die is — well, it’s a special kind of pain.” It hurts more than a gunshot, that’s for sure.
