Title: the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.
Fandom: MCU—Black Widow/Far From Home.
Characters: Yelena Belova, Peter Parker.
Prompt: The morning after.
Rating: PG.
Length: 600.
Content warnings: N/A. No spoilers.
Author’s notes: Title is from "Itsy Bitsy Spider". Also written for the word prompt "patient".
Summary: Two spiders bond over a spiderweb.


Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Deep breath—

Yelena scrunches up her face and holds her breath tight in her throat as sticky spiderwebs cling to her face. It’s cold—she thought he’d finally figured out how to warm this shit up?—and it’s stickier than it should be. Pulling the webs off her face, they stick to her hands despite her best attempts to shake them off.

"I’m so sorry!"

Yelena glares at him.

Peter hangs upside down from the ceiling in his Spider-man suit. Pressing a fancy button against his wrist, his face appears, his neck still covered in his bright red spider pattern. His hair is floppy as he hangs upside down.

He cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing in curiosity. "Is it stickier?"

"No."

He grins lopsidedly, all teeth and floppy hair. His face doesn’t turn pink despite all the blood rushing to his head. "That’s awesome! It’s sticky, isn’t it? I can finally tie bad guys to light posts and they won’t run away!"

"Any good bad guy can get out of a sticky web," she says, trying to do just that. The web continues to cling to her fingers, desperate in its desire to keep hold of her. Even when she tries to peel it off of her palms, it remains glued to her other fingers.

Kind of like how Peter sticks to her.

"I made it myself," he preens, still upside down. Yelena tilts her head and refuses to try and look at him the right way up with her head upside down; she won’t give the spider the satisfaction. "It’s good, isn’t it? You’re impressed."

Death glaring him, she shakes her head. "No."

He beams. "You are."

Cocking her brow, she shakes her head. "I am not. It’s not wise to tell a Widow that she is happy when she is not. You may lose your head."

"But I’m Spider-man," he says, still grinning lopsidedly. He begins to sway, kneeling against the ceiling. "And we’re friends. Spiders should be friends."

"Did you know the women spiders like to eat the boy spiders?"

His brow crinkles as he shakes his head. "No," he says, "not our spiders."

She nods, humming. She tries to peel the web from her fingers and grows angrier with each sharp movement resulting in nothing. He’s good; she’s proud of him for finally taking her advice to heart: Stop playing nice, Spider-boy.

"We do," she says in a deadpan, keeping her face as blank as possible. "We feast on your eyeballs first," she continues, reaching out to brush her cold fingers against his eyebrow. Some of his webbing clings to the fine, bushy hairs there.

"Then, we eat your skin," she says, wiping the web against his cheek.

"That sounds incredibly and unnecessarily violent—"

"And then we devour you very, very slowly to only spit you out because you taste disgusting."

The spider web slowly turns into a balled clump in her hands, some of it tearing away from her fingertips.

"I would taste like a great dinner, okay," he says, brows furrowing together. He puffs out his chest. "Like a great cheeseburger. I did that "What food would you be if you were food?" quiz and that’s what I’d be."

Yelena shakes her head. Peering down at her hands then at his face, she smiles broadly. Peter’s brows crease tightly before his eyes widen. "No," he says, shaking his head. He tries to swing away from her. "Yelena, we’re friends! We don’t eat each other!"

Yelena reaches out and wipes the webs against his face. They finally unstick.