Work Text:
Elena stretched their arms above them, yawning as they made their way out of their bedroom and towards the room Peter had taken up in their house as a paint studio. They’d crawled into bed hours ago, expecting Peter to follow once he had finished up whichever painting he was working on tonight, but he hadn’t come to bed, and the lanterns in the paint studio were still flickering light out into the hallway. As they stepped into the doorway, they saw Peter hunched forwards, paintbrush in hand and Lizard on his shoulder, surrounded by pallets of paint. They stood quietly in the doorway for a while, simply watching as their husband worked the little details into the painting in front of him. Currently, Elena could just see the edges of the painting, which looked like a scene of a forest at night. Even considering that this was the early stages of the painting, the trees still looked so full of life, and Elena watched as Peter made the smallest strokes of paint, adding in details they hadn’t even noticed were missing. He put so much care into his art, as he did everything, that it was difficult not to simply stay here, watching, transfixed by the skill that he worked with.
Eventually, though, Elena’s eyes were too heavy to keep watching, and they decided to finally call out to their husband, “Peter, darling, it's getting late.”
Peter visibly startled at that, quickly putting down his brushes and turning to face Elena, hand to his chest as he attempted to calm down.
“I thought I was used to not knowing when people were looking at me, sorry about that,” Peter spoke, smiling at Elena when he met their eyes.
“Don’t apologize for being startled, my love…” They trailed off for a moment, taking in the disheveled state of the man before them, the paint stained clothes and the dark eye bags, “Were you going to come to bed soon?”
Peter looked towards them, confusion etched into his face, before he turned towards the window in the room and looked outside, taking in the darkness of the night.
“Oh…” he said, “Oh, right. Night is actually night now. I’m so sorry, I must’ve kept you up, I’ll head to bed soon I promise-”
Elena cut off his ramblings by walking forward and slipping their arms around Peter, pulling him into an embrace. He practically melted into their arms; they could all but feel the exhaustion he held in him.
They felt, more than heard, the quiet, “...Thank you,” spoken into their shoulder.
“Of course, my dear,” Elena simply held Peter in their arms, relishing in the warmth he provided in the cold night air, and took a moment to look around at the unfinished paintings which filled the room. Some were similar to the one currently on the easel, an unfinished background of a forest, varying in tone of trees or placement of rocks on the ground. Some even appeared to have beams of light and darkness, more abstract takes on the scene. Other paintings in the studio were ones of Elena, from days where Peter got bored and Elena would take any chance to get to sit and stare at Peter as he was focused on his art. Days like those weren’t always the most productive, because according to Peter, Elena tended to change their expression too much as they talked with Peter as he painted, though it could also be the fact that they would take any opportunity they could get to fluster Peter, and apparently that doesn’t promote a productive work environment. They still try as often as possible to be with Peter as he’s painting.
Having spent so much time with Peter and his paintings, though, Elena noticed that the ones surrounding Peter were different from his normal works. More abstract, straying from the strict realism he normally relies on.
They pulled back, keeping Peter in their arms but maneuvering so they were face to face, before they spoke, “Trying something new?”
Peter turned back to the art surrounding his work station, before facing Elena again, looking almost embarrassed, “Yeah, but it’s not working well, I can’t get it right.”
Elena wanted to help him with his art, they really did, but sleep pressed heavy on their limbs and they wanted nothing more than to drag Peter back to bed with them and force him to get the rest he needed too.
Peter carried on before Elena could cut in, “I’m… I’m trying to paint Thanatos as he was, before we killed Zuen. All the statues of him they’ve put up are great…” He trailed off, eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he dug through his memories, “But none of them really show him, y’know? They all look so angry- and that’s great and all, I’m glad he’s remembered as the warrior he was. I just wish people got to see the side of him we saw. I wish people knew how he looked when he was making deviled eggs or helping me collect rocks.”
Peter turned back to the unfinished works behind him again, frustration evident on his face, “I want to show people the other sides to him, but I don’t have a clear picture of the memory anymore; I can’t paint it like I normally would. So I’m trying, I really am, but I just can’t get the image right, no matter how abstract or realistic I go.”
Elena brought their arms up to Peter’s, slowly rubbing up and down them as Peter worked to calm himself down a bit.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, y’know?”
Peter looked up at them, a million thoughts passing behind his eyes. Eventually it settled on adoration as he continued looking into their eyes.
“Yes… Yes I know. I just- if I can’t get it right, who will?”
“You’ll figure out how to get it right later, dear, I’m sure of it. Maybe some rest will give you a fresh start?”
Elena watched as the words settled into Peter’s mind, and he turned to the window once again. The sliver of sky they could see from here was bright, scattered with stars and lit up from the light of the moon.
“It’s still so strange,” Peter’s words were quiet, a confession to the empty air. Elena nodded their head, encouraging him to continue.
He slipped his arms back around Elena, holding them as he spoke, “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to the nights truly being night again. It’s… almost more comfortable now. Daytime doesn’t really feel real, even now.”
“I feel it too,” Elena stopped for a moment to plant a kiss on Peter’s forehead, smiling as he giggled at it, before continuing, “But you need rest. The paintings will still be here in the morning, I promise.”
Peter squeezed Elena in his arms once before pulling back, “You’re right, I know.” He took one last look back at the paintings surrounding him, before sighing and turning back towards Elena, grabbing their hands into his.
Elena smiled softly at that, pulling Peter up and leading him towards their bedroom. Once they reached the room, they let Peter go so he could head towards the bathroom to wash off the remnants of pain stuck to him. Meanwhile, Elena went to the wardrobe to grab some clothes for Peter to change into, handing them off to him while he was in the bathroom.
“Here you go,” They smiled at him as he was still attempting to scrub some of the more stubborn paint off of his arms.
“Thank you, my love.”
Elena blushed at that, taking a moment to compose themselves as they headed to the bed to wait for Peter. It wasn’t often that Peter referred to them by anything other than their name, so they were never really prepared. But sometimes he reminded them, they’re his love, and it’s just as surprising and exhilarating each time. Elena hoped they never got used to it.
The lights in the room were already out, and Elena could already feel sleep pulling them back within its grasp, but not before the candle within the bathroom was snuffed out and the sounds of Peter walking over could be heard. As the bed dipped next to them, Elena turned over and grasped around for Peter, laughing along with him as they pulled him to their chest, holding him close, feeling him tuck his head between their neck and shoulder, wholly content to just stay like this forever.
They waited, listening for the tell-tale sign of Peter’s breath evening out to know he was finally asleep, but that didn’t come. Instead, they heard an intake of breath, before Peter said, “When… when will it feel normal again?”
Elena was caught off guard by that. They’d never really had a “normal” for their life, everything changed so often that there never was time for something to become “normal.” In fact, settling down with Peter had become the most normal part of their life. Unlike them, Peter had a life before all of this, the only life he lived, and it was the most normal thing Elena could think of.
“I don’t think it ever goes back to ‘normal,’ not really. We just adapt. I think this is the closest to normal I’ve known,” Elena could feel the warmth of Peter against their chest, the weight of his arms around them. This, the life they built, it was all they had now.
Peter pulled back to look at Elena, before he leaned forwards to kiss them, soft and gentle and full of promises. It was the kindest thing Elena had ever known; the most love they had ever felt. They kissed back with the hope that Peter could feel all of the love they had for him, all the bits stored away, saved for moments like this. The shadows of the night blocked out the world around them; nothing else mattered except the two of them, here, together. The hopes of a future they would build with one another, because they had each other.
As Peter broke away to breathe, he spoke, breath ghosting across Elena’s face, “I think you are the least normal thing to happen to me, and I’m so glad that you did,” another kiss, quick, “I never want you to be like everyone else, I never want to be used to you. I just wish I could be used to life. It’s all so… disorienting, I guess.”
Elena reached up, tucking the stray hair out of Peter’s face, letting their hand linger on his cheek, cupping his face gently as they looked into his eyes, “We’ll figure it out, okay? No matter how normal or weird life is, I’ll be right here next to you.”
They could barely see Peter’s face in the faint moonlight filtering into their room, but they could feel his smile as he leaned into their hand, pressing a gentle kiss into their palm.
“I love you,” was whispered, quiet. Less of a confession to the night than words saved solely for Elena to hear.
“I love you too, Peter.”
And that was all the confirmation he needed.
Peter tucked back into Elena, and they held him closer as he did. This was all they had, all they required, truly, and they wouldn’t give it up for the world.
When morning found them, light streaking in through the windows, catching on dust hanging lazily in the air, it did not find two people, lost in a world of their creation. No, it found legs tangled together, arms tossed haphazardly over the other, early morning kisses in fleeting moments of wakefulness. It found two people, together, fighting to help fix the world they were in, even in the smallest of ways.
Eventually, the morning would find a completed painting of Thanatos, with his whisk hand and big bowl of devilled eggs, looking content, almost seeming to smile in whatever ways a robot could, proudly displayed in the house of two people still finding ways to celebrate their friend for who he truly was.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.