Alexei's so absorbed in what's happening on TV (ha ha, he does not want to wear the puffy shirt but he has already agreed to do it), he doesn't hear the picking of the lock, nor does he hear the opening and closing of the door. He thinks he hears the creak of a floorboard right as some noodles slip from his fork, back into the takeout box. Before he can turn around, though, Yelena has already spoken up and he starts in his seat. His head turns so fast it leaves him in danger of spraining a muscle or two.
"Yelena! You did not tell me you were coming...!" he says, his voice louder than usual from surprise and just a sprinkling of embarrassment. His house is pretty messy right now and the noodles... Well, he'll set them down on the table with one swift motion, hoping they won't be questioned.
"I didn't know I was coming," she says, her voice flat. She doesn't care about the mess or the noodles- things she would surely call him out on any other time. It's obvious she's not in a typical mood.
She slips her shoes off and scoots them under the table, out of the way, and wraps her arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest. She looks so small and so much younger than she really is when she does things like this. Maybe it's habit, in a way, old automatic actions she falls into around him because of the dynamic she remembers from Ohio.
"What are you watching?" she asks, not really interested in the answer, but needing to break the silence.
Alexei recognizes the gesture. Even so many years later, he can still vividly picture a young girl doing the same thing when she was upset. She was so much smaller back then, so much frailer. Still, some things never change, and that includes Alexei's desire to cheer her back up. He sits back on the couch again, leaving the box of noodles where it is on the table. He won't ask what's bothering her; that's not really his style. If she wants to talk, she'll talk, and until then, he'll distract her with other things.
"Jerry Seinfeld. Famous American comedian. We would watch this sometimes, in Ohio. Do you remember?"
Not that Alexei watched it in quite the same light back then. 'Ridiculous Western propaganda', that was what he'd thought. Nowadays, sentiments like that have lost their meaning.
He doesn't ask, and she doesn't volunteer any information. She barely knows how to put what she's feeling into words if she's completely honest with herself. Maybe if she doesn't think about it very hard, it will come to her. It works for some things, like when she loses a pen, and it seems to appear from nowhere as soon as she stops looking for it.
"What is it even about? What does the funny man do?" her eyes are on the tv screen, but she's barely taking any of it in. "Maybe... I think I remember the weird one, with the hair that looks like he was shocked by electricity."
"Yes! Kramer," he says, hoping that will jog her memory further. "He is the funniest one. Always sliding into apartment unexpected, taking food from Jerry's fridge... And he does not work. He never works. Only gets up to shady moneymaking schemes. They say Seinfeld is a show about nothing, but there is a lot happening. Very good commentary on petty American society."
Truly, he is sophisticated for watching this series. There are layers there to peel away. But more importantly, it makes him smile, and there are days where he needs that smile. Maybe it'll make Yelena smile too. He hopes so.
She hums a soft, noncommittal noise and nods a little. She still doesn’t remember it, not really, but it doesn’t matter. She does remember all of them piled in the living room watching tv together. This living room feels fairly empty in comparison, though.
For a few minutes, she just sits there with him and watches the tv show she is not actually paying attention to. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it could feel more like it did in Ohio. Maybe Mom and Natasha are just simply… picking up things for dinner at the store. It was easier for Melina to take their oldest daughter for things like that, let Alexei wrangle the little one for a little bit, instead.
But she can’t lie that well to herself; Natasha is gone. Melina is… wherever she is these days. It’s just the two of them on a couch in a messy flat, alone.
She shifts until she’s pressed against her father’s side, pushing until he takes the hint to loop his arm around her shoulders so she can hide her face against him. Hot tears well up in her eyes and spill against his shirt, but she doesn’t sob, she doesn’t make a sound at all. And maybe that makes it all the worse.
Back when they were all in Ohio together, Alexei had always been feeling restless. He would insist, over and over, that Dreykov had chosen the wrong person for the job. That he should've been out in the field. What good is a super soldier when he just sits around a house all day, pretending to be American? What he hadn't realized back then, but knows all too well now, is that his priorities had been wrong. The only good that had come from being associated with the Red Room had been the Ohio mission, and those are years he can never get back. Neither of them can. Sitting here now with Yelena is the closest thing to it, even if it is just a pale imitation. A faint echo of a makeshift family.
When she presses up against him, it takes him by surprise, but he does understand the request just fine. It's because he understands the request that he's surprised in the first place. His arm settles around her shoulders to pull her against his chest and he assumes that to be the end of it, but... now his shirt is getting wet.
It takes him a long moment of debating (is this bear poking?) before he decides to throw the question out there: "Did something happen?"
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no subject
"Yelena! You did not tell me you were coming...!" he says, his voice louder than usual from surprise and just a sprinkling of embarrassment. His house is pretty messy right now and the noodles... Well, he'll set them down on the table with one swift motion, hoping they won't be questioned.
no subject
She slips her shoes off and scoots them under the table, out of the way, and wraps her arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest. She looks so small and so much younger than she really is when she does things like this. Maybe it's habit, in a way, old automatic actions she falls into around him because of the dynamic she remembers from Ohio.
"What are you watching?" she asks, not really interested in the answer, but needing to break the silence.
no subject
"Jerry Seinfeld. Famous American comedian. We would watch this sometimes, in Ohio. Do you remember?"
Not that Alexei watched it in quite the same light back then. 'Ridiculous Western propaganda', that was what he'd thought. Nowadays, sentiments like that have lost their meaning.
no subject
"What is it even about? What does the funny man do?" her eyes are on the tv screen, but she's barely taking any of it in. "Maybe... I think I remember the weird one, with the hair that looks like he was shocked by electricity."
no subject
Truly, he is sophisticated for watching this series. There are layers there to peel away. But more importantly, it makes him smile, and there are days where he needs that smile. Maybe it'll make Yelena smile too. He hopes so.
no subject
For a few minutes, she just sits there with him and watches the tv show she is not actually paying attention to. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it could feel more like it did in Ohio. Maybe Mom and Natasha are just simply… picking up things for dinner at the store. It was easier for Melina to take their oldest daughter for things like that, let Alexei wrangle the little one for a little bit, instead.
But she can’t lie that well to herself; Natasha is gone. Melina is… wherever she is these days. It’s just the two of them on a couch in a messy flat, alone.
She shifts until she’s pressed against her father’s side, pushing until he takes the hint to loop his arm around her shoulders so she can hide her face against him. Hot tears well up in her eyes and spill against his shirt, but she doesn’t sob, she doesn’t make a sound at all. And maybe that makes it all the worse.
no subject
When she presses up against him, it takes him by surprise, but he does understand the request just fine. It's because he understands the request that he's surprised in the first place. His arm settles around her shoulders to pull her against his chest and he assumes that to be the end of it, but... now his shirt is getting wet.
It takes him a long moment of debating (is this bear poking?) before he decides to throw the question out there: "Did something happen?"