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Yelena never sat still anymore.
Not because she was restless. Not because she was anxious. But because if she stayed upright for too long, her body began betraying her in tiny ways she couldn’t control. Her knees would start trembling first, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice it. Then came the dizziness creeping around the edges of her vision, followed by the awful feeling that the floor beneath her feet had tilted slightly sideways while everyone else somehow remained unaffected by it. Her heart would begin racing hard enough to make her chest ache, and suddenly even standing still became exhausting.
The safehouse kitchen smelled faintly like burnt coffee and rain-soaked jackets hanging by the door. Outside, thunder rolled somewhere over the city, low and distant, rattling softly against the apartment windows while rain streaked down the glass in uneven patterns. Natasha’s voice drifted from the next room where she argued with someone over comms in Russian, clipped and irritated in that familiar way that somehow still made the apartment feel lived in.
Warm yellow light from the kitchen fixtures spilled across the counters and reflected against the dark tile floor while Yelena paced slowly between the sink and the fridge like sitting down for too long might somehow make her weaker.
Kynna watched her quietly from the couch. She sat curled beneath a blanket with a mug cradled between her hands, though the tea inside had long since gone cold. Her attention kept drifting back toward Yelena no matter how hard she tried not to stare. After months of this, Kynna had learned the signs too well.
The slowing steps. The subtle swaying. The way Yelena would casually lean against walls or counters and pretend it was intentional. The distant look in her eyes whenever her heartbeat became too hard to ignore.
Concern twisted tighter in Kynna’s chest the longer she watched. Yelena noticed anyway.
“You are staring,” she muttered, opening the refrigerator mostly so she had something solid to lean against for a moment. Cold air brushed across her face and she exhaled quietly, hiding the relief that came with it.
Kynna tilted her head innocently. “I’m observing.”
“That is just a creepier word for staring.”
A soft laugh escaped Kynna before she could stop it, warm and quiet enough to tug something painfully fond inside Yelena’s chest. God, she loved that sound. Even after everything they had survived together, even after all the sleepless nights and whispered reassurances and moments where Yelena had felt more broken than human, Kynna could still make her chest ache with something unbearably soft. But the amusement faded almost immediately when Yelena’s hand slipped slightly against the refrigerator door.
It only lasted half a second. Still enough.
Kynna sat forward instantly. “Hey.”
“I’m fine.”
The response came too fast. Too automatic. Kynna stood anyway, crossing the room carefully this time instead of rushing her. She’d learned that too. If she moved too quickly, Yelena got defensive. Like concern itself was dangerous. Like being watched too closely made her symptoms feel more real.
“You grabbed the fridge like it insulted your blood pressure,” Kynna said gently.
Yelena rolled her eyes dramatically, though the movement looked sluggish beneath the kitchen lights. “I stood up too fast.”
“You walked ten feet.”
“And yet somehow survived. Incredible.”
Normally Kynna would’ve laughed harder at that.
Instead, she noticed how uneven Yelena’s breathing had become. How pale she looked beneath the warm lighting. How her fingers flexed slightly against the refrigerator handle like staying upright suddenly required more effort than she wanted anyone to notice. And there it was again.
That horrible helpless fear curling beneath Kynna’s ribs. Because Yelena could survive almost anything. Gunfire. Broken bones. Missions that should have killed her years ago. She could dismantle armed men in seconds without breaking a sweat.
But this? This stupid disorder that made her heart race like she was dying just because she stood up too quickly? This terrified her. Not because she thought it would kill Yelena. Because she knew how badly Yelena hated needing help.
Yelena finally pushed the fridge shut and stepped toward the counter, but the second she straightened fully, the world seemed to drop out beneath her feet. Her hand slammed against the countertop hard enough to rattle the glass beside the sink. Kynna crossed the room before the sound even finished echoing.
“Yelena.”
“I said—”
The rest caught painfully in her throat. Her knees buckled.
Kynna caught her before she could hit the floor, arms wrapping tightly around her waist while Yelena’s body sagged against her shoulder. For a brief moment neither of them spoke. Yelena’s breathing came shallow and uneven against Kynna’s neck while her pulse hammered violently beneath Kynna’s fingertips. Too fast. Always too fast.
“It’s okay,” Kynna whispered softly, one hand sliding carefully up her back. “I’ve got you.”
Yelena squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “I hate this.”
The words came out quieter than expected. Not angry. Exhausted. Kynna’s chest physically hurt hearing it.
“I know,” she murmured softly, pressing her cheek briefly against Yelena’s temple. “I know, baby.”
Yelena’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric of Kynna’s sleeve while Kynna slowly guided her down to the kitchen floor, making sure her head stayed tucked safely against her shoulder the entire time. The cool cabinet pressed against Yelena’s back once they settled, but she still leaned heavily into Kynna like her body no longer trusted itself to stay upright alone. Kynna stayed close enough that their thighs pressed together, one arm still wrapped securely around Yelena’s waist while the other rubbed slow, grounding circles against her spine. She could physically feel how hard Yelena’s heart was racing beneath her ribs.
Thunder cracked louder outside. From the next room Natasha immediately called, “Everything okay?”
Kynna didn’t even look up. “She’s dizzy again.”
Silence followed for half a heartbeat. Then footsteps. Natasha appeared in the kitchen doorway and stopped immediately at the sight in front of her. Yelena pale and shaky against the cabinet. Kynna crouched beside her with one arm still wrapped protectively around her waist. The untouched coffee abandoned on the counter. Something shifted instantly in Natasha’s expression.
Not panic. Something quieter. Recognition.
Natasha knew exactly what it looked like when someone was losing a fight against their own body. She knew what it looked like to hate yourself for needing help. To resent the weakness even when it wasn’t your fault. And seeing that same frustration written across Yelena’s face made something protective tighten painfully in her chest.
Yelena glared weakly at both of them. “If either of you says ‘you need to rest,’ I will become violent.”
“You can barely sit upright,” Natasha deadpanned as she crouched beside them.
“Still capable of violence.”
“Mm. Terrifying.”
Kynna grabbed the nearby water bottle and gently pressed it into Yelena’s hands. “Drink.”
Yelena narrowed her eyes immediately. “I hate when you use that voice.”
“What voice?”
“The one that sounds calm but is actually a threat.”
Natasha snorted softly under her breath.
“You almost passed out making coffee,” Natasha said. “Again.”
“It is an advanced tactical maneuver.”
“Mhm.”
Yelena drank anyway. Kynna stayed close enough for their knees to touch, one hand absentmindedly rubbing slow circles against Yelena’s arm while she drank. Never crowding her. Never trapping her. Just there.
Always there. And somehow that made this harder. Because Yelena was used to pain she could fight. This wasn’t something she could shoot or stab or overpower. This was her own body betraying her in humiliating little pieces. And worse, every episode came with the lingering fear that eventually everyone around her would get tired of it too. Kynna must have noticed the shift in her expression because her touch softened instantly.
“Hey,” she murmured quietly.
Yelena looked away.
“You don’t get to disappear into your head like that.”
“I am literally sitting right here.”
“You know what I mean.”
Natasha leaned back against the opposite cabinet, folding her arms loosely across her chest. “You know,” she said casually, “when I first started having chronic shoulder pain after the Red Room, I punched a wall because Steve offered me ibuprofen.”
Yelena blinked at her slowly. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
“Exactly. Which means you should recognize the behavior.”
Kynna smiled faintly despite herself while Yelena let out an exhausted groan and tipped her head back against the cabinet.
“You are both annoying.”
“And yet,” Kynna said softly, brushing her thumb across Yelena’s trembling knuckles, “you keep us around.”
Something warm settled quietly over the kitchen after that.
Rain tapped steadily against the windows while thunder rolled farther into the distance. The apartment suddenly felt smaller in the nicest way possible. Warm. Safe. Lived in. Yelena’s pulse had finally started slowing beneath Kynna’s fingertips, though exhaustion still clung heavily to her body. The adrenaline from almost fainting always left her feeling hollow afterward, like her muscles had turned to wet sand beneath her skin.
Eventually Natasha pushed herself back to her feet with a sigh. “I will make actual food before both of you forget humans require nutrients.”
“I require coffee,” Yelena argued weakly.
“You require sodium and water.”
“Cruel woman.”
Natasha smirked faintly before disappearing back toward the stove, though not before gently squeezing the top of Yelena’s shoulder as she passed. Brief. Casual. But affectionate enough that Yelena noticed it immediately. The second Natasha moved away, Yelena let her eyes close again.
Kynna studied her quietly for a long moment. The pale skin beneath freckles she loved kissing. The exhaustion hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and sharp humor. The tiny crease between Yelena’s brows every time symptoms flared and she tried pretending they didn’t matter. God, Kynna loved her so much it hurt sometimes.
“You scared me,” Kynna admitted softly.
Yelena opened her eyes immediately. There it was. The truth neither of them liked saying out loud. Yelena swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Kynna shifted closer instantly. “No, don’t apologize for having POTS.”
“I know, but—”
“No ‘but.’” Kynna reached up carefully, brushing damp blonde strands back from Yelena’s forehead before letting her hand rest gently against her cheek. Her thumb stroked slowly beneath Yelena’s eye while she spoke, grounding and tender and impossibly patient. “You don’t apologize every time your body decides to be dramatic.”
Yelena gave her a tired look. “My body is extremely committed to theatrics.” Kynna laughed softly then, the sound warm enough to ease some of the tension from Yelena’s shoulders. “That’s because it belongs to you.”
For the first time all evening, Yelena laughed too. Small. Weak. But real. The sound melted something inside Kynna immediately.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against Yelena’s forehead, lingering there for an extra second while her fingers slid carefully into blonde curls at the base of Yelena’s neck. Yelena exhaled shakily against her shoulder, and Kynna could physically feel some of the tension leaving her body little by little beneath her touch.
Yelena melted into the affection almost instantly. Tension slowly eased from her shoulders while she leaned forward enough for her forehead to rest lightly against Kynna’s collarbone. Kynna wrapped both arms around her without hesitation, holding her carefully like something precious instead of fragile.
One of Yelena’s hands slid weakly against Kynna’s waist beneath the blanket pooled around them, fingers curling there like she needed the contact just as badly. Kynna rested her cheek against the top of Yelena’s head and closed her eyes briefly. She could still feel the lingering shakiness in Yelena’s body. The exhaustion. The embarrassment she always carried after episodes like this.
So Kynna simply held her tighter. Outside, thunder continued rolling across the city while rain tapped softly against the apartment windows.
Inside the kitchen, wrapped in warmth and soft touches and the quiet sound of Natasha moving around nearby, Yelena finally allowed herself to believe that maybe being loved through this terrifying thing hurt a little less than facing it alone.