The apartment was quiet when you finally stumbled inside, every step aching. The mission had gone sideways fast — Bucky had been by your side the whole time, but you hadn’t escaped unscathed. Your stomach throbbed from the injury, and blood had soaked your shirt.

Yelena was asleep in your shared bedroom, the room dim except for the soft hum of the heater. You tried to move quietly, but the pain hit suddenly, and you collapsed onto the floor with a groan.

Her eyes snapped open immediately. In seconds, she was at your side.

“Detka! What happened?” Her voice was sharp but filled with concern as she helped you sit up.

“I… I didn’t want you to see this,” you whispered, trying to catch your breath.

She ignored your words. “I don’t care. You’re hurt, and I’m taking care of you. Now.” Her hands were firm but gentle as she guided you to the bed.

You winced as she examined your wound, pressing gauze carefully to stop the bleeding. “Bucky better have been careful with you,” she muttered, brushing your hair back.

You managed a weak laugh. “He… he kept me alive.”

Yelena softened, pressing a hand to your cheek. “I don’t care who helped you. I care that you’re here with me. And I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

Exhaustion overtook you, and you let yourself sink into her arms. She held you close, brushing soft kisses along your temple. “Shh… just breathe, detka. I’ve got you. Always.”

In the quiet of the apartment, with the pain still sharp but softened by her presence, you realized that no mission, no danger, not even Bucky Barnes could replace the safety and warmth of Yelena’s care.