starving [hailee steinfeld one-shots]

kissing in the crossfire [K.Bishop]

It's the kind of nervousness that comes with the vulnerability you can't show around anyone else.

You've always had to be the strong one. The fast one. The one with unrelenting fists and an even more unrelenting sense of duty, whether that duty falls on the right side of the law or not. But Kate's always been the one that looks through all of that...except your tendency to sort problems out with your fists.

You flinch when she drags an antiseptic wipe over the small gash across your stomach. "What happened to the warning?" You grumble, pretending like you can't see the small smile that spreads along her face.

"You seemed too spaced out to need one."

"So charming, no wonder all the girls throw themselves at you when you walk by."

"Oh, shut up. It's not like you have an empty bed every night either."

You know what she means but you can't stop yourself from making fun of her. There are few things in the world that bring you as much joy as watching Kate trip over her own words.

"Are you calling me a whore, Bishop?" All it takes is a subtle raise of your eyebrow to send the brunette into a flustered ramble.

"What? No! Of course not- I mean, not that there's anything, um, wrong with that, but-"

The sound of your uncontrollable laughter manages to stop her before she digs herself into a bigger hole. The laughter shakes your entire body and you both have to try really hard to ignore the way her hands brush against your skin every time you make those small movements.

Not so long ago, she would have taken the opportunity to wrap her arms around you and pull you close. Today, she merely watches you laugh at her with the rosiest cheeks you've seen lately.

"You're an asshole," she says, rolling her eyes before going back to patching you up.

Although, her version of "patching you up" pretty much only involves disinfecting the area and wrapping some gauze around your waist. She's learned a lot from Clint but she's still absolutely clueless when it comes to these things. Which forces you to question why you're even here in the first place...except you don't want to accept the answer.

She finishes her work on your stomach without another witty comment despite how badly she wants to point out how badly you flinch every time she moves. Instead of doing that, she settles her attention on your face. Mainly your bleeding lip and bruised jaw.

"Hold still." Her whispered words are the only warning you get before she takes your face in her hands. You flinch and let out a soft groan when her fingers brush said bruise but you don't move away. You're captivated by those soft blue eyes despite how badly you wish you weren't.

"Kate." You don't mean to say her name but it slips out before you can stop it. "You don't have to. You...you've done enough. I should go."

"You're still bleeding," she says as if that's enough of a reason.

And maybe it would be.

But there's too much baggage between you for that.

"And whose fault is that?"

You don't know why you say it, you just know you're still hurt and that soft look on her face isn't helping you accept the past. What happened isn't really her fault, you know that. Accidents happen all the time in your line of business but she promised she would be there.

And she wasn't.

And now you have two less family members and an unbelievable amount of people who want Kate's head delivered to them in a box.