Title: Agonize. Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader. Words: 1230. Rating: T (Mentions of blood, minor injuries).
The sound of a door opening and then proceeding to slam shut is what caught your attention. And the fact that it was the dead of night, and there was no light down the hallway to help you navigate made for some creepy scenery. The shadows of the trees outside expanded on white wall as your feet lightly pattered against the wood floor of the hall, occasionally creaking under your weight. The dim light of the bathroom illuminated your senses.
Peter’s home, you sighed in relief, following the light shining on the floor. Something slammed once again, maybe, the medicine counter, which was followed by a long groan of distaste and slight pain. You panicked, moving faster and opening the door quietly. His X-Men gear was skewed across the room, some of it lying in the bathtub. And you were sure if you looked in the living room, the rest of his gear would be lying in there somewhere. “Peter-”
“It’s just a scratch,” He didn’t even look at you as he stumbled his way through the first aid kit sitting on the counter. Dirt and what looked like dried blood clung to his face, and to some parts of his hair near the back. “Please, don’t freak out.”
It was surely more than just a scratch, by the amount of blood that was on the floor, and splattered on his fingertips. It looked like Peter’s back had been cut by a shard of glass, or, perhaps a piece of metal. “What the hell happened!?” Your voice bounced off the walls, and Peter found himself smiling slightly at the amazing acoustics of the room. He’d have to remember if he ever wanted to record anything, that this room was made for it.
“I mean, they patched me up pretty good,” Peter managed a small laugh, “But, by the I got home, I kind of bled through the bandage, and instead of having Jean rebandage me, I told ‘em you would. ‘Cause you take care of me.” He sounded tired, and he looked even more so. Especially in the drooping of his eyelids as he tried to find the gauze that he knew you had. And for a man who was always moving quickly, he seemed to be pegged, and was found no motivation to move excessively fast. “You take care of me, right?”
You didn’t say anything and merely shoved him away from the medicine cabinet, reaching up and pulling out the gauze from the top shelf. Peter put the lid of the toilet seat down and sat down silently, as if speaking would get him tossed around even more. “I take care of Peter Maximoff, not some asshole who comes home to bleed on my white rugs.” His eyebrows furrowed together at the spitefulness that was tugging in your voice. Your hands moved silently, tugging out an antibacterial wipe and cleaning around the cut as best you could. Peter hissed at the feeling, but that didn’t deter you to slow down.
“What’s your issue tonight? Not get enough beauty sleep?” He teased, and he seemed rather amused with himself before you pulled away, tossing the used wipe into the trash bin with a scowl. It was made of something Peter couldn’t quite read, though at first glance, it seemed to be despise.
“Will you shut up for one minute and take this goddamn thing seriously?” You snapped at him. He did just that, and fell silent in front of you. “I’d like to see you in my place, every night, worrying about if you’re going to come home in one piece, or if you’re going to come home at all. Don’t you know how that feels? Or, do you only know what sarcasm feels like?” By the end of your sentence, you had your pointer and middle finger shifted at yourself, the tips of your fingers pressing against your sternum.
Peter licked his bottom lip slowly, his dark eyes dropping to look at his hands as you began bandaging him up. It was unskillful, but still, you were doing a better job than Jean had done earlier. “I’m sorry…”
“I’m the sorry one,” Grasping his forearm slowly, you rubbed the bare skin under your smooth fingertips and whispered shamefully, “You save the world… Both humans and mutants…. And Here I am being a selfish idiot because of that…”
“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t even let you go.” Peter glanced up at you, trying to find your eyes but to no avail. “Knowing the dangers that are out there, I wouldn’t let you step foot out that door… I’d be too… Too afraid of what could happen to you…” He paused, reaching up to cup your cheek in his hand, “I’d be afraid of what would happen to me if I didn’t have you anymore…”
“Peter, I’m sor-”
“I fight for you, you know…” His hand expanded onto the side of your face, “Because… Maybe deep, deep down, I really truly, believe that one day humans and mutants are going to live peacefully together, as cheesy as that sounds.” Peter chuckled, “I try my best… And I’m sorry if my best isn’t enough for you anymore… I don’t think it’s ever going to be enough for anyone… I am, and always will be, a bit fuck up…”
He bit down on his bottom lip roughly, “My dad didn’t even want me, he must’ve known I was a fuck up before I was even born.” The laugh that snuggled its way out of his mouth was that of disgust in himself, rather than for Erik. It was megar, short and to the point.
“Peter, you’re not a fuck up,” Dragging a hand through his thick, silver hair, you looked into his dark eyes for the first time this evening, “You will never be one to me… And I… I guess I’m just afraid of losing you…” He tilted his head towards your hand, “I’m afraid that one day, I’ll wake up and I’ll have to remind myself that… You aren’t there anymore. You aren’t there to make you obscure dick jokes, to make me burnt toast which actually tastes pretty good, if you put a lot of butter on it.” You grinned at him before it dimmed down to a small frown. Subconsciously, Peter’s dark eyes traced the lines on your face as your expression changed. “But, the worst is… I’d have to remind myself that you’re not there to love me anymore… And that’s something I’m not sure I can do… ‘Cause, I love you… Peter…”
“I love you more,” Peter sighed shakily, cupping both his hands on your cheeks and pulled you down so he could press a warm kiss of assurance against your lips. It was slow, at least, for Peter it was. His naturally pouty mouth melded against yours, his fingers curling on your jawline. This was something Peter needed. He needed you, and he’d fight for you as best he could.
The moment he pulled away, a smirk came washing over his expression, and the words that tumbled out of his mouth were surely said only to relieve some of the tension that had built up around the two of you, “ And if I die before you, I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt the ever-living daylights out of you, I promise.”
Toad's Cave 