"You know anything about plants?" Bucky asked as they walked, pulling his long brown hair into a half bun. His cream henley shirt, rolled up at the elbows, revealed scarred forearms and hands caked in soil. His pants, deep green as the reeds underfoot, sported a permanent grass stain on both knees. His boots, once sturdy and rigid leather, were made soft and pliable from years in rain and sodden rows of crops. He was a farmer, through and through.
"Kate does," Yelena replied, proud grin on her face.
Kate flushed, stammering, "Well, I, not really-"
"Good," Bucky cut in, house within view now. "You can help me in the garden."
"I-I can?"
"You two are staying for dinner, no?" He asked, and both women stayed uncertainly silent. "Then you gotta work for it."
Kate thought this was fair enough, but Yelena grimaced at the thought of manual labor. With the Widows, she was a scavenger, not a farmer. She had no luck with living things, plant or people or otherwise. Kate, though, was ecstatic at the thought of getting to work in these vast fields, in the apple orchard and lemon grove.
As the trio reached the house, there was a steady chopping noise, the beat of an axe hitting wood over and over. Bucky shook his head as if he was expecting it, beckoning the women to the back yard.
Walking alongside the farmhouse, Kate could not help but appreciate its charms, its almost gothic beauty. It was a dilapidated little building with missing, cracked shingles and
faded yellow paint wilting like a sunflower left out in the summer heat. But, it was also well loved, as evidenced by the mural on the back wall and the hand made wind chimes dangling from the porch.
"You've brought me home some strays?" Said a man, tall and blonde and strong as an ox as he hauled logs to a stump set up for splitting. "Honey, I thought we talked about that."
"Strays?" Bucky replied, Kate and Yelena lingering sheepishly behind him. "No, Steve, these are my prisoners. They were trespassing in our blueberry grove."
Steve studied Kate, chuckling at the blue ring around her lips. "Yeah, caught 'em blue handed. And what do you sentence them to, Justice Barnes?"
"An afternoon of manual labor and a warm meal." Bucky, hands still on his hips, sized up his husband, frowning. "And can you stop chopping wood? Your back doesn't need that, dear."
Steve sighed, setting down his axe. "My back is fine, but alright."
Satisfied, Bucky turned on his heels, motioning to Kate. "Come on, kid. Let's see what we can get into." He stared at Yelena. "Don't let him pick up that axe again."
Kate looked to Yelena before leaving, eyes saying, is this okay?
"I'm fine," Yelena said, kissing her on the cheek. "Go on. I know you're excited to see the farm."
Kate beamed, running off to join Bucky and leaving Yelena with a bemused Steve.
"May I?" Yelena asked, reaching for the axe.
Steve handed it over, taking a seat on a log he had not yet chopped. "What's your name, stranger?"
"Yelena."
"I'm-"
"Yeah, you're Steve."
"I am." Steve chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. His blue athletic shirt was soaked in it, gray pants covered in sawdust. "I take it you're not much of a talker."
Setting up for her first swing, Yelena considered this. "Correct."
The man watched her as she took a deep breath, exhaled, and swung. It was a perfect strike, a deadly arc into the heart of the log. It split in half and Steve's eyebrows shot up, impressed. He watched her repeat this, a practiced, calculated ritual. Her ministrations in something so mundane were not borne of nothing, no, this was taught. Studying more closely, Steve noticed her jacket, the patches that lined each arm. Badges of honor.
"Were you military? I heard some JROTC units stuck together," he said, rubbing at a callous on his left thumb.
Yelena paused, axe stilling. "What?"
"Your jacket. The way you're treating this like a drill."
"Oh." Yelena glanced at her stars and hourglasses as if she had forgotten they were there. How could she ever forget them, though? How could she forget what she had done to earn them? "Not quite military."
"I see." He nodded gravely like he understood. "I only ask because I was in the Army. You know, before all this."
"That must come in handy now."
"Yeah, certainly didn't hurt. Bucky was in the Air Force, and then he was..." he paused, head tilting. "Like you."
Yelena's eyes narrowed. She sized him up, working out the math between how long it would take him to rush her versus her quickness on the draw. As she stared at him, her untrusting eyes boring into his unassuming, gentle expression, her pistol only grew colder in its holster. She had not lived this long by trusting every stranger she came across.
"What are you saying?" She finally said, grip tightening on the axe.
Steve held up his hands, expression apologetic. He'd seen the look on her face on someone else's before- he knew what it was. "I get it. You're cautious. I'm just saying I understand."
Her patches burned like a scarlet letter. "What do you understand?"
"Paramilitary. You were probably with them a while, obviously highly decorated. The other girl, though, I don't think she was a member, which means you left."
Yelena appraised him, almost impressed as she swung once more. "And?"
"I'm right?"
"How'd you know?"
He laughed lightly, sun glinting off of his blond hair. "I've seen it all before. Buck was wrangled into something similar- a regiment of the Air Force that went rogue. They were some sick bastards and wouldn't let him leave. Threatened to infect him."
"Jesus, why?"
"Strength in numbers, they said. If they couldn't have him in life, then they wanted him in death. They were trying to create a weaponized population of Lurkers, zombies who could be controlled after they turned."
"Damn. My old crew was never that intense."
"What was their deal?"
Yelena shrugged. "Called the Black Widows, all women. They were cruel to outsiders, not much better to members sometimes. Me and my sister joined just after the outbreak because they promised medicine. I had an infected wound and it wasn't looking good."
"Your sister?" Steve asked tentatively. "Is she, uh..."
"She's alive," the Widow stated firmly, bringing the axe down with renewed fervor. She tossed the chopped logs aside, sweat beading on her forehead. "She's alive. She's in Charleston. That's why I left, we're gonna find her."
"How'd you get with the girl?"
"You always ask this many questions?"
Steve chuckled. "Sorry. Meeting interesting people is just about the only positive about living in the apocalypse. Everyone who has made it this far has some stories, and I want to hear as many as possible."
"What about you?" Yelena asked. "What's your story?"
"Well," Steve started, a twinkle in his eye, "I was alone, and then I met Bucky. I was lost, then I was found. Or something like that."
"Love at first sight?"
He grinned, eyes meeting Yelena's. "Not quite. He had managed to get beyond his camp's walls and stumbled right into my outpost. He was all cut up and disoriented, like someone who just woke up from a coma."
"Damn. I'm glad he found you."
"Yeah, me too. We spent our first year together on the run and with him barely coherent, but even after everything, I think he's the one who saved me in the end."
Pondering this, Yelena took another gentler hack. "What do you mean?"
"I was alone. I was bitter. I was looking for something to fight for." Steve softened, eyes filled with adoration and devotion. "That's him."
Yelena listened solemnly, gaze cutting from her lumber pile to Steve's nostalgic expression. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"You're in love with him, right?"
Steve's head cocked in question. "Of course."
Hands loosening around the axe handle, Yelena glanced over her shoulder, smiling as she found Kate pouring over a row of strawberries. "How did you know?"
"That I was in love?" He asked, standing and following her gaze. "Is this about her?"
"Maybe." Embarrassed, Yelena shook her head. "It just feels so stupid. So... futile. I mean, it's the end of the world, right? Who has time for love?"
"Look around you," he said, voice low and gentle, gesturing to the abundant garden. "It hasn't ended just yet. Yeah, this world is dangerous. You could lose people- you have lost people. But you have her now. I knew I loved him when I started asking myself questions like that. When survival wasn't only about myself, it was about him, too. Sound familiar?"
"Yeah."
Steve chuckled at the familiarity in her furrowed brow. "Want my advice?"
"Go ahead."
"If your girl is anything like me, she probably fell a while ago. She's just been waiting on you to finally catch up. So, if you want anything to happen, you're probably gonna have to initiate."
Yelena nodded, eyes still on Kate, axe still in hand. Steve clapped her on the shoulder, stretching before bending down to scoop up a few freshly cut logs.
Meanwhile, Kate walked in stride with Bucky, asking, "What's up with his back?"
Bucky huffed, eyes rolling. He plucked a leaf of a crepe myrtle, unusually idle hands needing something to do. "He's not as young as he thinks he is. He's just now got to feelin' better and there he goes choppin' wood."
"How old are you two?"
"Steve's damn near forty. I'm..." He winced. "Somewhere around there. I lost a bit of time."
"Oh."
He caught the shift in her expression and quickly pivoted. "What's, uh, what's the deal with her?"
"Yelena? What do you mean?"
"She's jumpy. For a second I thought she was actually gonna shoot me."
"She's just been through a lot. I'm a little surprised she didn't come with us." Kate looked over her shoulder, smiling at Yelena stealing similar glances. "I guess she trusts you."
"I tend to have that affect on people."
"Do you meet a lot of people out here? Stragglers like us?"
He shook his head, flicking the leaf and watching it flutter in the wind. In the tranquility of the garden, Kate was once again struck by his lack of weapons. No knives, no guns, no bows. His hands, covered in dirt and long healed scars, were not used to fighting, at least not anymore. There was a softness despite the callousness, a sort of homely hardiness that found strength from provision rather than violence.
Yelena's hand's were usually cold, seemingly the same temperature as the blue bruises that so often graced her knuckles. Kate was always stirred by the chill in her fingertips, sobered as if caressed by jagged pieces of ice, but she wondered what it would be like for Yelena to allow herself to be warm. To take Kate's hand instead of her cold silver revolver, to hold still and allow Kate to share her tepidness.
"Not in a while," he said. "We've only been in the house for about three years now, but visitors have gotten less and less frequent. Makes you wonder what's really going on out there."
"Less stragglers, more packs," Kate posited quietly.
"Like the one your friend was in."
"Yeah."
"Those patches on her jacket... they're something serious."
"So is she. When we met I thought she was gonna kick my ass and leave me for dead."
"Doesn't surprise me." Bucky stopped at the door of a small shed, disappearing briefly and returning with two buckets. He handed one to Kate. "Spread this on the flowers. Don't let it stick on the leaves, though, they'll suffocate. Brush it down to the roots."
Kate peered down into to bright orange bucket to find a sort of mulch, brown and earthy and smelling vaguely of metal. She followed Bucky's lead, sprinkling handfuls onto the roots of his many perennials and annuals. He grew hearty hyacinth and carnations, magnificent mums and daisies. What caught Kate's eye, though, were the rows of roses, vibrant pink and gleaming yellow, regal red and elegant white.
"You have roses?" Kate asked in awe, gently brushing her thumb over a little red bloom. "What do you use them for?"
"Nothing," Bucky said, beaming proudly at them. "Not everything has to have a use. Sometimes it's nice just to have something pretty."
"Yeah..." Kate sighed dreamily, delicately depositing fertilizer at the base of the plant. "Would you mind if I pick some?"
Charmed, Bucky laughed. "Knock yourself out, kid."
After emptying her bucket of earthy mulch, Kate gathered a colorful little bouquet of red roses with a few white blooms sprinkled in for good measure. Bucky offered some twine to bind them, and now she sat with him on the steps of the farmhouse, contently watching the sun dip below the ridge.
"So... you've been here three years?" Kate asked, tying and retying a bow in her twine. "Where were you before?"
Bucky glanced knowingly at her fidgeting fingers, shaking his head ruefully. "All over. Met Steve in... Pensacola, I want to say. We were on the run for a good year or so, eventually settled down here."
"On the run? From who?"
"My old Air Force buddies."
"Sounds like Yelena's Widow friends."
"They after you?"
"Not currently, I don't think." Kate frowned. "I hope. They're not following us, but there's probably some in Charleston."
"What's in Charleston?"
"Yelena's sister."
Bucky hummed, watching Steve reappear in the front yard, sweat beading as he pushed a wheel barrow. Yelena followed closely behind, repeatedly flicking open a sizable switchblade that Bucky recognized as one of Steve's. She had shed her leather jacket, leaving her in a black tank top that hugged her toned musculature. Kate was transfixed by the way she moved, the surety in her hands as she twirled a blade without having to look at it, the ripples of her arms as she loaded the wheel barrow with firewood.
Bucky, meanwhile, eyed his husband, saddened at how he could not even bend over to load wood for fear of tweaking his back. How he had offloaded his favorite knife to younger, more capable survivor. They were getting older, survival only becoming tougher.
"You know," Bucky said distantly, "decay is a constant in this world- Lurker bodies break down, houses crumble, hell, even my flowers wilt. Most of the time I find it kind of beautiful, like a reclaiming, but with him..."
Tearing her eyes away from Yelena, from her youth and her vigor, Kate replied, "It's scary to grow older, isn't it? When you're on your own like this?"
"We do everything ourselves. Gets harder every year."
"Well, if nothing else, at least you have each other."
"Yeah." Bucky turned to her, face unreadable. He glanced to her wide eyes, her wringing hands. "You remind me of him."
"How so?"
"Just," he nodded to the bouquet, "you love her. You're not ashamed of it. You're not scared of it."
Kate sighed, brushing her hair back. She did not bother hiding her lovesick grin, the blush in her cheeks, the slumping of her shoulders as she assented. "I do. I just... I don't want to spook her. I don't want to put any pressure on her."
"As a recovered paranoid and jaded person, my advice is to be patient. The love she's known has probably been pretty warped. She'll come to you when she's ready."
"You think so?"
"Trust me, kid."
____
Later, after the sun had set, a calm Appalachian evening settled on the farm. Owls and coyotes howled in the distant forest, leaves rustled with songs of the wind. Crickets and frogs joined the symphony; Steve left the front door open to hear it as he cooked dinner. Bucky lit a few candles before sitting next to Yelena at the kitchen table, tapping his foot to a record he put on in the living room.
Yelena had not sat down for a real dinner at a real table since childhood. Memories of Natasha sitting across from her, mouth and hands sticky from watermelon in the summer flashed in her mind and she could not help but grin, warmed by the candles and the music and the walls coated in chipped yellow paint.
"A smile," Bucky said, smirking at her. "That didn't hurt, did it?"
"Leave the kid alone," Steve said from the stove, apron tied loosely around his waist. "Come help me chop the onions."
"Yes, chef," Bucky grumbled, but the annoyance in his voice could not mask the adoration in his actions. He sauntered up behind Steve, resting his chin on the taller man's shoulder, hands resting lightly on his hips.
Steve set down his knife, whispering something only Bucky could hear. The brunette laughed, kissing him on the cheek. He stayed like this, glued to Steve's side and delivering occasional kisses while Steve continued chopping.
Yelena closely tracked all of this, suddenly overwhelmed by the domesticity. For a bewildering moment, she was not a girl fighting daily to survive a zombie apocalypse, she was a dear friend invited to a dinner party. She was safe. She was normal.
As she watched Steve and Bucky, their achingly, painfully tender interactions coated in warm yellow paint and a softly scratching record player, Yelena got a glimpse into the future.
This was a possibility for her. She could have a farmhouse, a garden, dogs that run and play in the yard. She could know silence, she could know peace. No Lurkers, no homicidal mothers, no Black Widows, just Yelena and...
"Hey," Kate said, kneeling next to her, hair wet from her shower.
Yelena had to take a moment to collect herself, lost in her thoughts and Kate's eyes. "Hey."
"Do you wanna..." Kate bit her lip, placing a hand over Yelena's. "Take a walk? You know, while they cook?"
"Yes," Yelena said, almost desperate. "Please."
Tugging Yelena by the hand, Kate led her out the front door, pace leisurely. Yelena was so relaxed that she did not even realize she left her trusty pistol on the kitchen table, though Kate noticed how she left the weapon put.
"I made you something," Kate said lowly, one hand concealed in her jacket.
"Oh?" Yelena asked, cheeks rosy and somehow even more gorgeous in the moonlight. "What is it?"
Wordlessly, Kate presented her humble bouquet. A few blooms were already wilting, white buds tinged yellow, but Yelena could not have cared less. She took the bundle in both hands, cradling it as if it were breakable, looking at Kate as if she had hung the moon and the stars and created everything good in the world. To Yelena, she was everything good in the world.
"I know it's not-" Kate started, but Yelena held up a hand.
"You're perfect," Yelena breathed. "They're perfect. It's perfect."
Kate stopped walking, swallowing hard. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, Yelena lost in the wood, Kate stranded in the ocean between them. Finally, Yelena spoke.
"Kate Bishop..." she said, heart aching as the archer wrapped an arm around her waist. "The way you make me feel is... terrifying."
The words should have given Kate pause, made her take a step back, but the look in Yelena's eyes was absolutely irresistible. "What do you mean, Lena?"
"I mean..." Her breath stuttered. She gripped the bouquet tighter. "I've never felt more alive. I've never been so happy, so... grateful to still be here, but I've also never been more scared. I've never had this much to lose."
"You're not gonna lose me," Kate said, pulling her closer, foreheads lightly touching. "You have me. For as long as you want me. For as long as you need me."
Yelena pulled away just far enough to cup Kate's jaw. She ran a thumb across the length of her jaw, nearly to her lips. "Do you promise?"
Kate nodded, leaning in, wanting so deeply for Yelena to meet her halfway. The blonde held firm, expression expectant, pleading, hopeful.
Eyes hooded, Kate inched forward, whispering, "I promise."
With this, Yelena's resistance disappeared. Her walls crumbled, inhibitions nullified. Their lips met in a first kiss that was more akin to a sigh of relief than a fiery spark of passion. Both had wanted this, wanted each other, for so many weeks, and the release of so much tension was so fucking satisfying.
Kate held her close, strong arms snaked around her waist. The brunette was so sturdy and warm and she smelled like cinnamon- she was absolutely intoxicating. Yelena could not pull herself away.
The archer was similarly enraptured, obsessed with the way Yelena tasted vaguely of cherries and how she could feel her pounding heartbeat. Emboldened and drunk on passion, Kate snuck a hand under Yelena's tank top, smirking against her lips as her abdomen flexed. The hitch in Yelena's breath only led Kate to kiss her more urgently, more intensely, more purposefully.
The two only pulled back as they heard a clap, suddenly brought back down to earth. Though their lips no longer met, their eyes stayed locked on each other, unblinking and widened.
"My goodness!" Bucky hollered from the front porch, applauding. "It's about damn time! Now you two come and eat before it gets cold!"
_____________________________
Okay, well, there it is. I have stressed so much about this chapter because I wanted it to be good so badly. I've built this up for so long and it deserved a proper climax. I did my best and I hope I delivered. Enjoy