Saving Grace || Peter Parker

Part 26

Sat on the kitchen counter, her legs swinging to the beat of the music playing on the radio, Nadia nursed a cup of warm coffee in her hands.

Aunt May was making dinner tonight, having come to the house to radiate maternal love; Nadia eating it all up.

"How are you doing today, dear?" May asked, eyes focused on the onion she was currently chopping, but her attention all on Nadia.

Nadia smiled softly at the older woman "I'm okay, I promise"

May smiled back "I understand, I know what it's like to loose the ones you love. And although it isn't easy, it gets more bearable over time"

Nadia hoped of the counter top, her arm thrown around May's waist and her head laid on her shoulder, entangled by the older woman's scent and warmth, she was utterly and completely safe in her arms. "I know, I'm getting there."

The days that followed were basically just Nadia getting into the right headspace, relaxing and taking a break from her reality. The public had gone to wondering where the red widow had ran of to, but she would return when she felt ready to.

Peter stayed with her mostly, only leaving the house to do his usual patrols, returning home to snuggle up on the sofa with his favourite person, basking in their calmness and serenity they found themselves in.

And on one night, Peter decided to play 21 questions so it seemed.

"What's your favourite colour?" He whispered, his fingers threading through her tangled hair.

She smiled slightly "green"

He raised his eyebrows "it isn't red?"

She looked up at him, falling deeper into the emeralds "are your eyes red?"

He smiled cheekily "your favourite colour is the colour of my eyes?"

She pinched his side "forget I said anything"

He shook his head, a laugh falling from his throat as he picked her up by the waist and settled her on his lap.

"No no no, you're favourite colour is the colour of my eyes! And here I thought you hated the cliches"

" fine, then my favourite colour is red" she shrugged.

He just smiled at her, taking her face into his hands "if you wanted to know, my favourite colour is blue"

She scrunched her eyebrows "why blue?"

He kissed her cheek, lips then moving to her ear to whisper "the colour of your eyes, so blue and deep I get lost in them"

Her nose scrunched up "you're copying me, that's not fair"

He didn't care, because her eyes were heavenly, an open window to her very soul. And if she let you close enough, they portrayed her very most internal and intimate thoughts.

"How many languages can you speak?" He asked then, his eyes still intertwined with hers.

She smirked "eight"

His eyes widened "really? What ones?"

"English, Russian, Latin, Spanish, French, German, Greek and Chinese"

"Who speaks Latin anymore?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes "me, obviously"

"Ahh, because miss Nadia Shostakova Romanoff is perfect in everything, including learning basically dead languages" he praised sarcastically.

She pinched him again, earning a Yelp from him "I should've never told you my middle name, plus Latin isn't a dead language!"

"Oh really, who speaks it- and you can't say you"

"They speak Latin in the Vatican City" she jabbed him "Everyone in the red room was forced to learn Latin, plus Italians used to speak Latin before they moved to Italian which is basically a Romance language, brush up on your history lessons мальчик-жучок (bug boy)"

He surrendered then, capturing her in a kiss though "okay okay, моя любовь (my love)"

She fought the urge to giggle, positively ecstatic that he was learning Russian for her. Making him all the more attractive, which she thought was certainly impossible.

"How many languages can you speak?" She asked then.

"Two"

"Really?"

"...one, I know a little Spanish and now a little Russian but not enough to count it"

She laughed "okay"

Her head fell into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. He smelt like vanilla and rain, and those chocolate chip cookies Aunt May likes to bake. He was truly delicious, in scent and looks. He was beautiful. And he felt like home.

...He felt like home. Even repeating it, thinking it and realising it- was surreal. She thought that home was where everyone you knew and loved and was related to was but honestly can come in all shapes and sizes. Home can be multiple places and people. And Peter Parker was one of them.