Work Text:
By the time Peter feels fully recovered, Tombstone has escaped prison. No rest for the weary, as they say.
Naturally, he’s been doing some digging. There’s been rumblings, links between Lincoln and Wilson Fisk. Late night meetings by the dock, last minute resource allocations. Of course, there’s still some blank spaces that he needs to fill in. There’s no one better to turn to than the woman who is his acquaintance, maybe-sorta-friend, and the leader of the Avengers: macaroni_fiend_1001.
He knows the drill by now. He shoots her a quick text, and she responds in seconds—and he thought he was chronically online—giving him a time to meet her at the banya.
See you then, she signs off with, adding a little spider emoji. He sends back another spider and a thumbs up.
The bathhouse attendant, an older woman with white curls piled atop her head, recognizes him and quickly waves him upstairs, tossing him a towel just as she did before while the old TV behind her blares out some old Russian program.
Last time, the place was dead silent, almost like the Widow had rented the whole place out just to add to the intimidation factor. She probably did, with all those buckets of New Avengers money.
Now, however, he can already hear bright peals of laughter echoing through the hallways. There’s a telltale rasp to them that he recognizes. Yelena. Then the sound of water splashing lightly, and a low murmur. A man’s voice. Thank god for his enhanced hearing.
He pokes his head into the doorway, ready to be the one to get the jump on her, for once. “Meeting ran long?” he starts to say. “I can—ohmygod.”
Yelena’s bare back is facing him, uncaring as she sits on the lap of some dude in the bath while they make out, her hips rolling as the guy has his arms wrapped low around her waist to pull her closer. Then the man looks up at Peter’s voice and his blue eyes go comically wide, their gazes locking for a horrifically awkward second before they both tear away. Yelena jerks around too, but Peter is already whipping around, hands instinctively going to cover his eyes over his mask.
“What the hell?” he cries out, shuddering as he already tries to expel the image of Black Widow humping a guy in a pool from his mind. “Time and place!”
“You’re early!” Yelena yelps, accusatory as a loud splash rings out.
Only then does he dare to look. She’s combing her blonde hair out of her face, skin flushed red. The man she’s with has evidently decided to…play dead? He can make out a dark head of hair underneath the water.
“I’m perfectly on time,” he shoots back. “I can wait outside until you’re…finished.”
“Ha!” Yelena barks out, narrowing her eyes. “You are very funny, Spider-Man.” She settles back against the wall of the bath. “I promise you, we are done now.”
“Thank god,” he mutters. He tilts his head to the guy still hiding underwater. Wow, he can hold his breath for a really long time. “Is he gonna, uh, leave?”
“No,” Yelena answers smoothly. “This is my new assistant.”
The man pops his head out of the water and gives Peter a sheepish wave. “Hi.”
“Bob, Spider-Man. Spider-Man, Bob,” Yelena supplies, smiling like she’s being as helpful as anyone could ever be. Bob nods along with her. “I’m a big fan,” he adds with a grin, dark curls glued to his forehead by the water.
“Cool, man.” Peter nods. Then he squints looking closer. Bob looks weirdly familiar, and not just because he happens to look a bit like Peter himself, which is something he definitely does not want to think about after what he just saw. “Hey, aren’t you another one of the New Avengers?”
Bob’s mouth makes a little o of surprise.
“Like I said,” Yelena cuts in, literally, moving in front of him. “He’s my assistant.”
Peter scoffs. “What do you even need an assistant for here? Aside from…that?”
“Personal pleasure is a key part of living a fulfilled life,” Yelena recites, tilting her head to the side. “Bob is very helpful in that regard.” Next to her, Bob beams at the praise.
“Yeah, maybe just keep that pleasure out of public spaces,” Peter frowns, screwing up his face as he eyes the water. “I think I’ll keep my leotard on this time.”
“Suit yourself,” Yelena says. Bob snorts, and she splashes him lightly, eyes lighting up as she turns to him and smiles. “You know, the assistant isn’t supposed to distract the boss from her veeery important work. In fact, the assistant is supposed to do whatever the boss says.”
“Whatever she says?” Bob grins, inching closer.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Yelena says, pointing a finger into his—surprisingly toned—chest and pushing him back a bit.
Peter clears his throat, tired of being the third wheel to whatever this is. “You said you had some information about Lonnie Lincoln? Tombstone?”
“Yes, right,” Yelena says, going back to business. Bob’s mouth curls into a disappointed pout. “Fisk has hired him to work on some kind of…dimension-hopper-jumper thing? Very big, very secretive.” She stretches her arms out for emphasis. Bob moves behind her, coming to rest his chin on her shoulder. She leans into the touch as she continues speaking. “It’s a tiny, baby spud right now, but it could grow if left unchecked. I don’t know many details, but keep an eye on any high-security labs in the area. Anything containing technology that would be useful for that kind of goal.”
Peter nods along. God, he’s already dealt with enough alternate dimensions for a lifetime. Time to nip this in the bud.
“Alright, thank you,” he says, turning to leave. “See you next time,”
“Wait,” Yelena calls, so softly that it immediately grabs his attention. He turns back to look at her. “Jean…are her and her sister alright?”
Peter swallows down the lump in his throat. “Sara didn’t make it. The DODC killed her in their custody a while ago.”
Yelena’s face falls, her eyes distant. “And Jean?”
“Jean…she’ll be alright. She won’t be alone, not anymore.” He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he knows that for certain. He can feel it.
Peter can see Bob’s hand take Yelena’s underneath the water. She squeezes it, like it’s helping to keep her steady. “That’s good,” Yelena nods, looking away for a moment. Then, she comes back to herself and gives him a smile. “Go kick some asses, Spider-Man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter salutes lazily. “One last thing—try to find a room with a lock next time.”
It’s Yelena’s turn to sputter, but Bob just pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Bye, Spider-Man!” he calls as Peter leaves the room.
Once again, he can hear their giggles echoing through the hallway. Looks like the sad woman has made herself a friend, too.