Shatter Me § y.b

six

|CHAPTER SIX ; Under My Skin|

§

         "Put this on."

        One hand with cat-like reflexes reached into the air to retrieve the thick white jumpsuit that was folded and clicked securely in place. "We have matching outfits now?"

         Natasha shot her a look, tugging off her tattered black shirt and exchanging it for the fairly snug protective gear. "You don't have to if your personal safety isn't a requirement for your survival."

         Pointing at Yelena who had already zipped her suit closed, pulling her blonde tresses out of back of the white uniform. "It's absurd how biologically you aren't even related yet at your very core all the two of you are is stubborn. Stubborn, sassy, killer sisters."

         "Are you just using 's' words to describe us?" Natasha chokes out over a series of laughter.

        "In that case," Yelena popped a handful of cashews into her mouth, chomping absentmindedly as she leaned back in her seat. "—you should've started with sexy."

        Natasha claps in agreement, smile never faltering as she stepped over Soleil's legs, flicking the engine switches on and twisting the giant key that brought the plane roaring to life. Covering her ears in the soundproof headset, Natasha steered the plane down the makeshift runway, only pulling the lever back at the very last second.

Ascending higher and higher into the clouds, the Black Widow finally relaxed. Heart steadying as her gut assured the thirty-eight year old assassin she was safe up here, that no matter how many times she had to run, that it would all pay off in the end—if not for her but now her sister. "I have an informant in the Seventh Circle Prision, a tattoo artist. He's been keeping an eye on the Red Guardian for over ten years now."

"How'd you land a set-up like that?"

A mysterious smirk overtook the smooth chestnut features of the dark haired woman. Her stance was lethal, even sitting down her back was as straight as a rod, shoulders square and neck completely on display. Yelena sucked in a deep breath when their eyes locked, earth tones brown and green battling for dominance—each surveilling the other with an unwavering persistence. "I had a few other lives before I met you, Spider."

"Lives that involve men?"

Yelena's eyes were playing ping-pong, bouncing from one person to the other, brain filtering the words at a speed she could barely comprehend, all she knew was that she needed to know—the answer of course. "Good question," She murmurs under her breath, attention captivated while her fingers, secured by layers of protective fabric but her nails still found a way to pick incessantly at the sewing string.

Sighing out a nervous laugh, suddenly feeling on the spot. "Once upon a time maybe," Soleil stumbled over her words, palms growing sweaty as she meekly peeked up at Yelena, desperate to pick up on some of her body language.

Would she be mad that her track record didn't consist of only women?

"Once upon a time." The blonde repeats, almost as if she was tasting the feeling of the words on her tongue. Her vision glazed over, momentarily picturing Soleil's body underneath a mans—all it did was make her jealous. Fingers twitching with a seething rage that spread a flush of red across the young Russian's face, lips pursed in anger at the very thought.

Attempting to fight her heart with logic, the White Widow had a hard time putting a name to how it made her feel. Yelena didn't have much experience with attraction, she'd been kidnapped when she was very young, nearly three years of age when she was ruthlessly adopted into the Red Room. Over two decades of psychological conditioning to not have any feeling towards the actions her two hands would be responsible for. The first time she remembered ever getting sweaty palms, her words scrambling to properly escape her lips, it all happened with Soleil.

She felt at a great disadvantage, like she was missing key pieces of humanity and everyone else was watching her like she was a defective piece, like she was contagious. Yelena's thoughts were spiraling, overwhelmed that coming to terms with her feelings on one topic easily bled over into other traumas she hadn't even addressed yet.

"Yelena—"

Two fingers raised to silence her, not even gracing her with the privilege of eye contact. Only silence and a uneasy exchange of apologies from the red-headed pilot. "Braid my hair for me, will you?"

Sol sighed, grateful that her sexual orientation was no longer the center of attention. They were all adults, nothing was wrong with how she enjoyed occasionally spending her time with men, but more often than not it was a woman with whom she laid with. "Braid it how?"

Yelena scoffs, voice still monotone yet laced with obvious notes of lime green jealousy. "What do you mean how? You take the three strands and loop them around—"

"Obviously," Sol ran her fingers through the birds nest of hair atop the spitfire of a woman's head. Using the tip of her knife with the utmost care, Soleil parted Yelena's hair, stopping only once to bring the blondes face to her—tone serious as she promptly speaks. "Stop moving before I accidentally hurt you. Do you want me to hurt you?"

Gentle breaths fanned across her face, Yelena forcing herself not to close the distance between them and plant a kiss right on her lips.

Even if she acted upon her desires, Sol had already backed away, returning to her original job of braiding hair. "I don't think you have it in you."

           "Is that so?"

Yelena paused, voice meek and as gentle as a breeze. "Do you have it in you to hurt me?"

           "Not under my own free will, no."

           It seemed to satisfy, it made her nerves stop jolting under her skin so aggressively. So when Soleil finally stepped away, her hair in a series of intricate braids, all feeling very secure—the two dangling three braids at the sides of her face adding flair.

"I look like a badass."

"I think you look kind of silly."

Yelena's hand snapped out at lightening speed, sending a swift smack to the back of her sisters head—the laugh it emitted clearly not being the proper reaction but she didn't mind. "Admit it, I look like a total badass."

Natasha only smiled. "It's not bad."