Wifey · Y/n story by @marvelfan

The compound’s medical bay smelled like antiseptic and stale coffee. Steve stood by the door, arms crossed, while Tony paced a groove into the tile floor.

Natasha Romanoff

her voice flat, controlled She’s fine. The bullet grazed her side. She’ll be patched up in ten minutes.

Tony Stark

And yet she’s been white as a sheet since we landed. Belova doesn’t get spooked. She gets pissed. There’s a difference.

From inside the curtained cubicle, a low, frantic muttering drifted out. Yelena’s voice—not in English. Russian, clipped and hurried.

Steve Rogers

What’s she saying?

Natasha Romanoff

sighs, rubs her temples She’s begging someone not to be mad at her.

Tony Stark

freezes mid-step Begging? Yelena Belova?

The curtain whipped open. Yelena emerged, still in her tac gear, a fresh bandage visible under her torn shirt. Her hands were shaking as she gripped her phone like a lifeline.

Yelena Belova

into the phone, voice strained, almost pleading No, солнышко, wait. Wait. I can explain. I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine.

A pause. Her face went pale.

Yelena Belova

quietly Baby, please don’t hang up—

The line went dead.