Anastasia Romanoff always looked up to her older sister, Natasha. Ever since they had left the Red Room and joined S.H.I.E.L.D. with the help of their good friend and partner, Clint Barton. Though, the two troubled young women never expected to join...
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"If the Red Room is still active then where is it?" Nat asks Yelena as we enter a convenience store at a gas station.
"I have no idea," Yelena honestly answers. "He moves locations constantly and every Widow is sedated on entry and exit for maximum security."
"I'm just finding it hard that he could stay off our radar," Nat shakes her head before looking at me. "How's your knee?"
"It actually feels pretty fine right now," I respond, looking around the store.
"I have a question," We both look at Yelena. "Where did you guys think I was all this time?"
I look at Nat, thinking she should answer this question. "We thought that you got out and were living a normal life."
"And you just never made contact again?"
"I just thought you didn't want to see us," I tell her.
"Bullshit," Yelena scoffs. "You just didn't want your baby sister to tag along, whilst you saved the world with all the cool friends."
"You weren't really our sister," Nat points out.
"Nat," I give her a look.
"It's fine, Ana," Yelena says. "The good thing not really being her sister, like you, is that I never dealt with Dreykov looking at me like I was second best."
Nat looks at me and I laugh. "I was too busy falling in love to care. I probably should've considered where love has gotten me. I was an idiot but at least I got out."
"You're not an idiot," Nat assures me.
"Why do you always do that thing?" Yelena asks Nat after a moment of silence.
"Do what?" Nat asks.
"That thing you do when you're fighting," Yelena explains as she extends one leg out and puts her left hand on the floor. "The...Like, this thing that you do when you whip your hair," She whips her hair, making me laugh. "When you're fighting with the arm and the hair."
"Oh, yeah," I laugh, doing the pose more correctly. "She does, like, a fighting pose."
"Exactly that," Yelena approves of the perfect pose I do that mocks our sister. "She's a total poser."
"I'm not a poser," Nat points at me. "Don't encourage her."
"They're great poses," I assure her.
"But they do look like you think everyone's looking at you, like, all the time," Yelena adds.
~~~~~
Yelena hisses as she pours alcohol on the wound on her arm while we get dinner in a random neighborhood in Budapest. I sit across from her as Nat comes to take a seat beside me after getting us all bottles of beer. I take it gratefully from her, beginning to chug it down in need.
