~ 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 ~
Peter's thoughts were absolute mayhem. They were battling with each other so aggressively a headache slowly pounded his skull, but there was nothing he could do to get the thoughts to stop.
He raised his hand to lean his palm against the side of his freshly shaven face (well, as fresh as he could make it with the broken razor and milliliters of shaving cream he found hiding at the bottom of a drawer) and stared down at the cracks of the brittle wooden floor.
Peter knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted, especially since he had finally been able to get a taste of it. But he didn't think it was a good idea for him to get it.
He didn't deserve to feel her touch, to feel her around him, no matter what form he got it in. Whether it was a simple hand hold like the one she had given him those couple days ago, or something so much more.
He didn't deserve it. Not after all of the shit he's pulled for the past year, and not for the lack of shit he helped with during their time in captivity.
He wanted to feel her touch, though. He wanted to have her with him all the time, despite all of the lies he's been spewing to her the entire time he's known her. There wasn't a single ounce of truth in any of his past comments. He wanted to show that to her, and he wanted to tell her that he was an oblivious idiot. That he hated himself more than he could describe.
But he had to stop himself.
He had to stop himself in that shower since he became way too lost in the way she cradled his head and grasped him tighter as their cool, slick skin moved them even closer together. Her kiss made him woozy and desperate for more, and the desire he had for her rose too rapidly. And he had to stop himself.
This wasn't exactly a new feeling for Peter.
He had dreamt about having her perched in his lap before, his arms wrapped securely around her as she read her book, or highlighted her school notes, or fiddled with the Atari he knew she kept in her room.
He had envisioned her walking over to him from her little corner on the couch to straddle his hips and kiss him senselessly, his hands grasping her tightly as his lips left marks on her skin and she whimpered his name into his ear.
He had small hopes of how one day, when they were spitting out venomous remarks in each others faces and throwing each other against random walls, he could shove her into the nearest room and fuck her so relentlessly their legs would turn to jello while the only thing he could possibly think about was her as his lips let out the endless cries of her name.
Her name.
Amara. Her name was Amara.
Not Aya.
Aya was the girl he loved to hate. The girl he enjoyed pissing off. The one who made every attempt to get as far away from him as possible, and the one he always made sure could never be in a happy mood.
Amara was the woman that was able to get the both of them out at the blink of an eye. She was the woman that could crush the organs of anyone she merely blinked at and keep them hidden enough that no one would be able to find them. The woman that kept the both of them alive and secretly, though she didn't seem to want to admit it, was caring, and kind, and... broken.
She was lost. She was scared. She was hurt.
She was alone.
And Peter wanted nothing more than to make everything better for her. He wanted to kiss away all of the scars on her body and pull her into his arms where, even though she was very capable of protecting herself, he knew she was safe.
He frowned down at his hand and turned it over. Despite his best efforts, his mutation wasn't coming back, and he wished he knew why.
If he had his mutation, they wouldn't even have to be there anymore. He could have kept her safe if he had his mutation. He could have brought them home days ago, and everything would be going back to normal.
Why did whatever Remedy did work for him, and not for Amara? What fault was there that rendered him incapable of using his mutation while Amara seemed perfectly okay?
Internally, he scoffed at himself. Of course she wasn't okay. The wounds covering her body made his heart sink, and it took a lot for him to pull his eyes away. Even though that black wisp of her mutation was working away at healing them, he still hated to see them. He hated the memories they brought back.
Her screams were still loud in his ears. Her pained cries were burned into his memory bank. And he hated them. He hated everything about them, and everything about himself.
He was a failure. He couldn't help her like he should've been able to. That was why he wanted the scar. He deserved it. A mark that showed him he was weak and couldn't help his teammate. His friend. The girl he secretly wanted to hold.
Peter pulled at his now dry hair and sighed. Everything was messed up. Now she thought that he thought she was ugly, or unwanted, or anything like that, when in reality, if he had kissed her any longer, he wouldn't have been able to control himself.
There was no questioning it; he had to admit it to her. He owed it to her. It didn't matter what was said before. She deserved the truth. He was going to tell her.
But by the way she angrily stepped through the house, he knew that was going to be difficult. She was angry at him (she had every right to be) and he wondered if she was even going to let him speak.
He doubted it, but he still had to try.
He sighed and stood up when a door slammed upstairs, and Amara's thundering footsteps echoed down the hall. He had to remind himself that this was different from before - he couldn't argue with her like he did before. Most of the time, those outbursts she had with him weren't even her fault.
That being said... there was a fight that was about to happen. There wasn't any avoiding it. He just had to keep himself as level-headed as possible.
Peter was almost surprised that the rickety old steps of the house didn't break under Amara's feet as she stormed down them, but he didn't have much time to think about it. His body was encased by her power, which threw him across the room and shoved him into an old recliner.
He coughed at the dust that was kicked up from his sudden intrusion and his hands gripped the armrests tightly, and even though Amara's energy glued him to the seat, he didn't have any intention of leaving.
Her movements were sharp as she marched up to him.
"Listen to me very closely, Maximoff," she seethed, leaning into his face with a deep frown and a nasty glare. Her eyes were grey. Peter was in for one hell of a ride. "I don't know what kind of disgusting game you think you're playing, but you're being a real piece of shit, and I can't fucking stand it. I don't know why I thought you changed, and why I thought it was okay to open up to you. I was an idiot. I was sick, and tired, and I said things that I clearly shouldn't have said because I don't say them to anyone, let alone you, so why I thought that was okay was the worst fucking mistake of my life."
He gulped, trying to shake his head. It was like every word she said made him feel worse and worse. It wasn't a mistake. She could trust him with that information. He wasn't going to be an idiot with it like before, he was going to listen and do his best to understand what she wanted. Why she did what she did. Why she felt the way she felt.
But there was something else that she wasn't telling him. He could see it, because when he looked closer into her eyes, there wasn't just anger. There was some sort of desperation, but for what he still had to figure out.
"And I don't know why I said yes to letting you kiss me and I don't know why I liked it because I'm not supposed to like it," she growled. "In fact, I'm supposed to hate it, just like how I hate you for making me feel the way that I feel and for being on that stupid mission and for fucking kissing me because that's stupid!"
His heart fluttered with hope.
He liked it, too. He more than liked it.
He was getting closer; he learned more about her in the last mission than he had in the last year, and she was finally opening up to him. He just had to keep this going.
Her voice wasn't even angry anymore. It was filled with confusion and desperation instead.
"Do you not see how stupid that is?" she shrieked. He realized that her power was no longer keeping him in the chair, but she was still leaning over him, so he didn't move. "I'm humiliated, Peter! You left me standing naked in a cold, moldy, waterless shower! Fuck, you're just like everyone else! You're so full of yourself and you just fucking - what do you want from me?!"
He blinked. What he wanted was going to take a lot of time, and a lot of talking, which were both things Amara was very good at not giving him. But he wanted more than just answers. He wanted so much more than that.
"Fucking hell, I could never get you to fucking shut up, before! Say something!"
It was clearly difficult for Amara to open herself up. Anyone that simply glanced at her would know that. But he had to give her a reason to trust him. He was going to have to be open and truthful to her, or he wasn't going to get anywhere.
Trying to keep his tone calm and his nerves at bay, Peter looked deeply into Amara's eyes.
"I... I told Kurt those things so that he wouldn't like you anymore," he whispered. "Not because they were true. But because I wanted you all to myself."
Her face visibly fell. The grey in her eyes melted away and showed her glittering hazel, and though the black of her veins faded away, her skin was still pale as a ghost, and showed the picture of pure horror.
"W-What?"
He gulped, leaning up as she tried to back away.
"Why are you supposed to hate it?" he asked, his voice just as soft as hers, but she wasn't listening. Her hands raised to pull at her hair while she shook her head, continuing to back away from him.
"No," she murmured, "n-no, you're lying-"
"Why would I lie?" He followed her into the kitchen and backed her up into the counter.
Amara wasn't looking at him anymore. Her head bowed and she cowered further away from him, but he placed his hands on either side of the counter.
She inhaled sharply. "You- you can't want me-"
"Why not?"
Her glare up at him was brief, but he saw it. "Why do you think, asshole, we fucking hate each other-"
"Well, yeah," he chuckled, "but why?"
"You know exactly why."
He huffed and shook his head. The best clue he had was that her power liked to hurt people, and she probably thought she was going to hurt him. But why the hell would that make her hate him? It didn't make her hate Jean, or Kurt, or Ororo, or any of them. What the hell was so different about him? What the hell did he do to her to make her hate him?
Her eyes were glued to the ground, and her hands were folded and tucked under her chin, cowering away from any part of him that was close to him. She was trying to get away from him, which was the opposite of the progress they made in the bathroom upstairs.
His mind drifted back to what happened, and then to what she said about it, and he frowned. If there was any chance to explain himself, he supposed that now was the time to do it.
"Amara, you were raped," he stressed, stepping back and leaning down with his hands on the counter so he was the same height as her. "That is a serious, horrible thing that happened to you, and I don't want you to think that because you're the only person I'm around and you happen to be a girl, and because we don't know when we're going to get home, that I'm using you, too. Because I'm not. I won't. I want you in so many more ways than just that."
He raised his hand to her chin and gently used his finger to get her to look up at him. The tears he saw brimming her eyes surprised him, but he chose not to comment. He simply raised his hand to cup her cheek and shook his head softly.
"I don't hate you. I kissed you because I like you, and I want to try living a life where we don't have to argue in every conversation we have because I know that we can! This mission has proved that to me, has it not done the same for you?"
She sniffled, her hand raising to grab onto his wrist.
"Somehow, after fucking everything, we're still here together! We've been alone for who knows how long, but we're smart enough to at least know that we need each other to get home! We can work together! It's not impossible, even for us! Isn't that fucking incredible?"
It was his turn to wish she would say something. Anything. He wanted her to say what she was thinking, just so that he could finally understand what was going on.
But her eyes fell from his again and looked back down at the floor. Her lips curved into a deeper frown. She wasn't going to say anything.
"Ames..." he sighed, letting his head fall against hers. "If I had kissed you any longer in that shower I never would have stopped."
"Don't say that." The shaking of her head made him pull back to look at her eyes, and his hands fell to her shoulders. She was trying to get away again.
"Why not?" he asked, but she tried to shake him off.
"Because... you can't!"
"Why the hell not?"
She sighed, pushing his body off of hers. "Bad things happen to people around me."
She stormed over to the stairs, and he frowned. He wasn't done. There's no way that could be the entire conversation. Peter couldn't let her run away.
Not yet.
*****
w/c: 2559
a/n: do you think you know why amara's so resistant to be with peter?? or does she seriously just not like him?? and what about peter?? do you think he's finally handling the situation properly?? lemme know what you think!! xx