Work Text:
"This is your idea of laying low?" Peter can't help but to just stare into the fully equipped exterior of this house he's in. "How come you never told me that you uh, have a house?"
"It's a safe house."
"No… I'm pretty sure this is just a house."
"It's– just help unload some of our shit, Pyotr."
Peter let out a deep sigh but nodded anyway, grabbing the things they hurriedly packed from their old apartment out of the trunk of the car.
A few days ago, Peter went back home after his usual night patrol to find his woman quickly shoving clothes and other important stuff from their apartment into several suitcases, he even saw his whole makeshift lab disassembled on the side.
Peter, confused to the bone, had asked Yelena what the hell is going on but he didn't get an answer until they're already in the car, speeding out of the area as fast as they could without getting pulled over by a cop. By now Peter can read Yelena's eyes, her gaze spelled a barely contained panic and that was the only thing Peter need to helped her pack, whatever got her into that state must be serious, and they should–
Not an hour later after they left, he could hear radio chatter about a gas leak exploding an apartment nearby, it made Yelena let out a shaky sigh, a mix of terror and relief.
"Oh great, apparently our place is gone now." Damn, he still got his clothes there too, not to mention all of his favorite knickknacks. "Now will you tell me what the hell is going on?"
=
"Where should I put this?" Peter yelled out as he held all of Yelena's suitcases of disassembled weapons, Yelena answered back with a yell to just put it in the living room for now.
Once they have everything set out, albeit messily, inside of the house, Yelena is already about to get rid of the car when Peter stops her. He's tired. They've been driving for two days and two nights. "Let's do it when it gets dark, I mean… I could use a little break." Mentally and physically.
They both sat down on the sofa, only now being able to catch their breath. Yelena hasn't said anything, she just keeps staring up at the ceiling and Peter lets her do that. He understands that you need some time to process things. "Alright. I'm gonna get something to eat, you stay here."
As Peter rummages through the grocery bags they bought along the way, he steals a glance once or twice to his lover who still looks very out of it.
Apparently, her last mission was a trap and the rogue organization almost managed to discover her real identity and with it, the details of her personal life. Her real life. Her life with him.
Thankfully though, they got out just in time, Yelena had planted multiple false information of their locations and it bought them some time, but they escaped by the skin of their teeth and that must've disturbed her greatly. Peter can’t blame her, she almost lost this new life she built herself, and Peter knows what it feels like to lose your whole life in a blink of an eye.
Yeah, so, Peter knows all that. But he didn't expect this.
He's literally standing in a house in the middle of Ohio, walking up small steps to the kitchen, the table illuminated by the soft orange glow of the dining room's single hanging light.
Peter lays out the packet of frozen food they bought from the supermarket outside of this neighborhood, they didn't even look at it. Peter groans as he sees all the seafood pasta they got. He hates seafood. "Oh." The fridge is on and functioning when he opens it, he stacked the food in there only leaving the pizza outside to be heated up.
The microwave pings Peter and puts the food on the table, behind him is a bookcase filled with colour coded books that's probably just for display, there's even an indoor plant here. "Lena, the foods read–"
Yelena is already behind him, turning him around and cups his cheek, planting a little kiss on his lips. "--sorry." She said, clearing her throat, she's still– well, both of them are still awkward with the whole… 'being vulnerable with each other' thing, and she's obviously struggling. "Sorry I kept this from you, sorry for uh, destroying our old place, and…" Peter just hums, holding her wrist and kissing her palm. "What's done is done. Besides, this isn't the first time my life got turned upside down. Let's eat first, god, I'm starving."
There was a pause but they eventually sat on the table, eating the subpar pizza in silence.
"This place."
"Mm?"
"Me and Natasha used to live here."
Peter almost choked but he managed to fake it by making it sound like he's just clearing his throat. "Yeah? When?"
"When we were kids." She said, with a shrug that's meant to make her look chill and relaxed but fails. "I was… only 6, she was 11. We were… our father was sent on an undercover mission, so they gave him a… fake wife, and… fake fucking daughters." Her voice turned sharp at the end, eyes closing as she tried to calm down with deep breaths.
"He finished his mission and we were– well, at least me and Nat, were forced to leave. We… didn't want to go. They separated us, you know. When we arrived at the Red Room, they wouldn't even let us see each other again, not completely anyway."
Peter has always been curious, he knows that Natasha is important to Yelena, even in death Yelena still loves her completely. No wonder why, seeing that Nat was the only family she had. But then again, they were separated for so long, met only for a while before she was taken away from her again. Peter knows that feeling, just a little bit, of having your only family killed without being able to do anything about it. Then Yelena fumbles with her blazer, pulling her wallet from inside it, she opens it and gives something to Peter.
A photograph.
A photo booth strip to be more specific. It only took him a few seconds to understand, to recognize her, to recognize both of them. "Blue hair, huh?" He said, his voice overly quiet, like a secret. "Dyed it herself..." She mumbles. They stayed quiet for a long while before he gave her back the photo and she tucked it safely back in her wallet.
…
"Let's get rid of that car now."
"Yeah." He said. "But, uh… I mean, I never had to get rid of a car before, how should we do it?"
"It's fine, I'll do it myself, you stay here."
=
Honestly? Peter didn't know he would be doing this tonight. He thought they would both go to sleep after Yelena spent three hours out getting rid of the car but here they are now.
"--harder." Yeah, she will actually get hurt if he goes harder, but whatever.
Peter has his hands on her waist, keeping her body in place while he thrusts harder and faster inside of her, silky lube dripping down her thighs to his own then staining the bed. Other things are staining the bed too. She's bleeding a little, just little spotting here and there, because she kept telling Peter to fuck her harder and harder and somehow both of them know all of that gentle shit wouldn't do tonight, tonight they need to work some stress out, and rough sex is the classic way to do it.
He shoves her legs wider, pressing their bodies as close as possible together, him forcing a hard kiss on her lips, cutting off her breath and he kisses her a little too long because she scratched his neck to tell him to back off and he did, just a little.
"Fuck…" he groans as she press his legs on each side of his waist, clenching down on him oh so painfully tight while they chase their own release, Yelena's hands gripping his neck and his slightly longer hair. "Harder–" she gasps on his lips and Peter knows that that's just her high talking, no way she could handle more, not with her thighs shaking like mad from her previous orgasms, not from the way her eyes are glazed over, blurry from tears. "Pyotr–" he swallowed down her words, keeping her body flush on his as he gives her what she wants.
He didn't bother pulling out when his orgasm crashed over him, didn't care how his semen is dripping out of her with the blood he pulled from the way she forced him to fuck her without any foreplay. He moved only to hug her ever so tightly when she hugs his shoulder and cries it out on his hair. And Peter knows she's not crying from any physical pain.
Her tears and gleaming sheen of sweat on their bodies, the blood drawn by her nails on his shoulder, and every other else, all illuminated by the dim warm glow of the bedroom's night light, paired with the misty shine of the moon. The sound of cicadas from the outside mixed with their heavy breathing.
It made it feel like they have been here not just tonight, but days and days ago, like he could feel it, the bedroom of Natasha's and Yelena's home, back in 1995.
=
Yelena is in the bathroom and Peter is staring at the bed he just cleaned. Okay. Since Yelena said that her family used to live here, does that mean they fucked in the bed used by her (fake) parents? Okay… gross. But whatever.
...Should he ask her about that? About her parents? Hm. Probably not. One, because he knows this whole family thing is still way too hard on her. And second, well, uh. He also kinda still remember the true horror of meeting your girlfriend's parents. Sure he's not a fumbling kid about to pick up their precious daughter for homecoming dance anymore, but still.
Anyway, apparently Yelena has been hiding this from him because she probably didn't know what to do with it herself. She rented it on impulse from the last owner and has been keeping this place in living conditions with different cleaners coming in here and then.
She must've been ridiculously overwhelmed. Hell, Peter would be too if somehow he had to enter the old apartment he lived in with May. Honestly, Yelena is doing much better, he would've cried the moment he closed the door.
"Lena?" He enters the bathroom, knowing that she wouldn't lock the door, Yelena is in the tub, still soaking despite her already finished showering. "Yeah?" She answered.
"I'm gonna need to shower too." Right. She just nods with a small 'sure' before getting up and toweling dry. Peter showers briefly before going back to the master bedroom. He has his suitcase opened, his spidersuit already tucked into the smaller, empty room that would probably be his new lab in the coming days, for now he just needs his sweatpants. Yelena stole his hoodie apparently so he just walked out with a wifebeater shirt despite it being crazy breezy outside.
He sees her from the corner of his eyes.
Ah. This house have an outdoor swing? Christ, he has never lived in a proper house like this before, it must be nice to have a swing and a slide outside. Peter walks outside and just… looks at her for a moment.
Yelena has her damp hair flowing in the wind, swaying up and down on the swing with his hoodie and a pair of brand new flip flops, staring into the forest so close to them. "Oh, fireflies." He comments. "Never seen them up close before."
Yelena whistles at him, which he replies with his own whistle as he jogs to where she's at, sitting on the bottom of the slide.
Finally, Peter asks the question that's been hanging on their heads this whole time. "Yelena, how long are we going to stay here?"
Right. They're supposed to be 'laying low', Peter knows the answer would just be for a few days, the safe thing to do is to leave again soon, go somewhere further, hell, maybe to a whole new city, a whole new state if need be. But…
"A while longer." She answered. "Just… A while longer." Right. Deep inside, she must've wanted to live here someday, right? With how much money she spent keeping this place up and running. Peter knows it won't be easy, back then it was just the both of them alone, easily hiding in a corner somewhere but this?
"Okay." He said. He's letting her control this, whatever this is.
Yelena stood up and went to him to peck his lips. She wants to say something, he wants to say something too, but no words come out.
Despite how nice this place is, it feels too much like a weird fever dream, eventually they will have to move… who knows, maybe this will bring them back to New York? To where it all started? His stomach turns, what if they move to his old apartment? God. Just… the thought of it all. Of…
"It feels weird, huh?" She said. "You and I…" Right. It is. They don't belong here. Peter and Yelena met and… um… fell in love in their 'new' life. This is Yelena's old life, a big piece of it, Peter knows from experience that touching old wounds will only make it hurt even worse, sometimes even unbearable.
They're not acting like themselves here, everything about this situation throws them off, but it's fine. Maybe… they'll adjust in a few days. Huh, won't it be kinda cute if they play house for a while? Peter never lived in a house like this anyway… ah... he has some very vague memories of living somewhere with a porch, with his parents who he barely thinks of anymore, don't reopen old wounds, right?
Peter starts shivering after a while, which makes Yelena snort and they eventually make their way back inside.
"I'm still hungry." She said, Peter makes an approving noise. "Same. We should order something, maybe? What do you want?"
"Macaroni and cheese."
"Ma– Yelena c'mon, not that again." Peter whines, something Yelena mocks in return. "It's either than or caviar and champagne, Pyotr, take your pick."
God. Fine. Macaroni and cheese it is, then.