Work Text:
Vacation doesn’t actually exist for you Yorks- to the outside world maybe.
The Yorks seemingly go on lavish vacations all the time but, the reality was that you and Dave went on hits all the time and the vacation stories are cover-ups. There can only be so many cover ups however… And now you’re itching.
Dave’s in the basement cleaning his gun when you enter and he knows you well enough to know that you have something on your mind if you’re interrupting a cleaning.
“What do you need?”
“I want to go on a vacation.” You blurt out.
“Didn’t we just go on one?” He asks jokingly, referring to the last cover excuse you had recently given to a neighbor.
“David,” your voice deadpan.
“Alright! I’ll bite. Just stop with the full name,” he grunts, setting the gun cleaner down and turning from the table to where you stood.
Giggling, you step closer and into his space, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his chest to give him puppy dog eyes. Your husband could never resist your eyes and you made sure to use it to your full advantage.
“Well I was thinking-,” you start and he cuts you off with a short laugh.
“Dangerous really,” he smirks.
“I- shush!” You smack his back and continue, “I was wondering if we could go to the cabin for some real alone time?”
“Are we scheduled for anything next week, madam secretary?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t see why not. Can I finish cleaning these guns now? My supervisor will kick my ass if they jam on a job.”
“As you were, baby, and I wouldn’t kick your ass. Might bite it though.” You wink as he releases you to continue his chores.
--x--
Dave purchased the cabin before you. It was his original safe house and place to handle real dirty work. The last time you were here was the summer time before your honeymoon, but now it was a lot cooler and definitely creepier than you remembered.
“Dave, this is eerie as hell. Have the trees always been this close to the house?”
He laughs at your tentativeness, “Yes hun, this is why it was a safe house.”
“Is it at least clean inside? We aren’t going to stumble upon a body you left behind?”
Dave just smirks, putting the car in park and grabbing the cabin keys from the center console. “No bodies, I promise. Do be careful stepping out though, I may have some old boobytraps still set.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!’
“I said may!”
Grumbling, you hesitantly open the car door and the cold mist hits you. You look to the ground for any traps, just in case. Dave was a simple man when it came to traps- bear traps hidden under leaves kind of simple. After a deep sigh and the sound of Dave approaching the passenger side, you decide it’s all clear.
Inside, the cabin is dark, with the exception of the fire Dave had just started. The air inside is wet and you’re suddenly second guessing this whole staycation and start dreaming of an actual vacation that normal couples go on, thinking it would have been better. Almost like he could read your mind, Dave's whistle breaks you out of your mind.
“It’ll be good babe. Just gotta get it warm, that’s all.”
You nod and take your things to the room and prepare to get settled for the week.
--x--
Dave was right. The house just needed some warming. Now you’re on the floor sitting back on your thighs in between his legs and playing with your knives. Dave is facing you with his legs wide just watching you try a trick you were excited to show him but unfortunately it wasn’t going as planned.
“Fuck. David, it’s not working. I need you to look away.”
“How is my beautiful wife so talented at throwing that thing or skinning someone with it but she can’t get it to twirl how she wants it. I don’t understand”
“Daaaaave,” you whine, making him laugh and reach for you. “How about another activity?”
You slump back into your feet and eye your husband waiting for this new proposal.
“What if I told you about the throwing board in the back,” he offers.
Your eyes widen and light up, “You have a board I can throw at and are just now telling me? It’s so foggy now!”
“I thought you liked a challenge.”
“This is supposed to be a vacation.”
“No one’s dying. Still counts.”
“Ugh, David... but I count throwing as practice or training.”
Dave ignores his full name and thinks for a second. “Hmm. What if for every target you hit, I give you an orgasm.”
Your face heats up.
“I’ll have to max you out at ten though. I want you to be able to walk for the rest of the week…” he pauses, “or run depending on how the week goes.”
“Meet me outside.”
And suddenly you’re on your feet, grabbing your sweater and knife set on the way. Your husband’s laughter being the final thing you hear before feeling the cold mist against your face, ready for a challenge.