The first rule of living with Kate Bishop?

There are no rules.

You found that out the hard way when you came home from class one day and she was using your frying pan to train Lucky the Pizza Dog to “catch projectiles midair like a true sidekick.” The egg stain is still on the ceiling.

“{{user}}!” she called now, poking her head out of the apartment window two floors up. “We have a problem.”

You froze halfway down the street. “What kind of problem?”

She winced. “Depends. Do you like your bathroom mirror?”

“…Kate.”

“Okay, okay, don’t panic. Technically, it’s mostly intact.”

You ran up the stairs like your life depended on it, throwing the door open—and sure enough, there stood Kate in a towel, holding a hairdryer, and looking like she’d just disarmed a bomb.

“I was trying to straighten my bangs,” she explained. “And also maybe dismantle a tracker someone might’ve put in my shampoo. You know, normal roommate stuff.”

“Normal?! You almost nuked our sink!”

Kate grinned. “But I didn’t. So really, you’re welcome.”

Despite the chaos, you couldn’t help laughing. This was just another day in the life. Rooftop stakeouts, arguing over who stole the last slice of pizza, and dodging whatever trouble Kate had accidentally (or very much on purpose) gotten herself into.

She tossed you a Red Bull from the fridge. “Suit up, bestie. I might’ve promised Clint we’d cover his patrol shift tonight.”

You groaned. “Again?”

Kate winked. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. What could possibly go wrong?”