~ 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 ~
"Amara!"
To his relief, the girl actually stopped on the stairs. She was only about halfway up, but she actually paused. He saw this as a positive.
When she slowly turned around, Peter was finally able to get a good look at her. Her eyes were a dark grey, just like they had been this entire time since her body was trying to heal itself. Her outfit was tight, showing off her features as they hugged her fair skin while her damp hair fell into her face.
Peter had noticed her beauty before - it was pretty impossible not to, despite the baggy band shirts and sweatshirts she frequently liked to wear. Her dark curls fell perfectly around her face, framing her with her sharp jawline, while her muscles (before the mission) had shown through nicely to show all of the training she's done at the X-Mansion, and her dark makeup made her even more mysterious - so much so that it only helped to intrigue him.
Luckily, no one noticed the way his eyes lingered on her frame when Kurt brought her and Jean down for the mission briefing - one of the many advantages he had as a speedster. He had to do a triple take when he noticed just how short her skirt had been, and he had to swallow down the urge to do something about the heat in the room that only seemed to be growing for him.
Not to mention when she stepped out of her room in her suit. God, that suit. It hugged her curves in a way that made him unintentionally stare and (sometimes) not even try to hide it. That was when she was confident, and poised, and sexy, and when she waved her mutation around, he was downright hot and bothered.
Most of the time it was a serious struggle for him to remind himself that she hated him, and in turn, he hated her. Every now and then, he would let her comments get to him, and some of the things he said were just plain brutal. Barbaric. Inhumane. Wrong.
It was childish of him. He should have just let what she said slide, just like he did with everything else. But he couldn't. He wanted to know her. He wanted to talk to her.
His eyes raked up and down her body.
She, like him, had lost weight. And yet, the curves of her body still hadn't gone unnoticed to him. Her sweater sat comfortably over her shoulders while the faint dip in the neckline of her tighter shirt gave him just the smallest peek of something she would have otherwise been very diligent of covering up.
One thing he noticed about her were the freckles that delicately accented the curves of her face. He didn't even know they existed; before the mission, he had never seen her without makeup.
But this only made him like her more. He was able to see a part of her, even as small as the cluster of freckles on her cheek, the light dusting on her nose, and the darker one visible just below her lash line, that no one else did. It was natural. It was her. And it only made him want to know more.
He stepped up to the bottom of the stairs, his back hands in his pockets to control himself while he looked up at her.
"Ames, you're not going to hurt me."
Her fingers fiddled with the sleeves that were a little too long for her arms as he took another step up, but she didn't move. He continued going up.
"If that's what you're worried about, you don't have to be."
Her chin quivered, and he paused at the step that allowed them to be eye level with each other.
"Yes, it is," she whispered.
He didn't dare move as she reached up to run her fingers through the shorter section of his hair. He knew that they cut some of it off at the base, and when he first saw it in the mirror, he groaned as he noticed it was this awkward, large chunk on the side of his head in the front that just made him look like an idiot more than anything else.
But she simply twirled the strands between her fingers, building hope slowly and carefully into his chest.
It was getting harder. Harder and harder for him to keep his hands where they were. His feet moved until he was at the step just below her, leaving her nose to be at his lips as he looked down at her.
Compared to his six feet, her five-foot-four stature was small, but he knew better than to underestimate her. She was strong, and it made his heart beat a little faster whenever he thought about it. Such a small person, so incredibly powerful.
Her hand cupped his jaw delicately, almost as if he would break if she made her moves too sudden.
His own hand reached up to tuck her hair out of her eyes and allowed him to look deeply into them. The slight fog and grey wisp that swirled around, almost as if the wind was blowing it gently.
The Shadow was one thing. And she was another. And while they were the same, they were also different.
"You're not gonna hurt me," he repeated.
She shook her head. "You don't know that-"
"I do." He was firm in his response. "Because you've never hurt me before. I've seen you melt the insides of people without even batting an eyelash, Ames, and I've never felt pain with you. Ever."
She sniffled lightly and he held her head, making sure to keep their gaze strong.
"Did you know that you did that?" he continued. "That every time you would fuckin' throw me against a wall, or trip me, or even in combat you would... you would catch me. And I knew that you hated me so I- I didn't think anything of it, but... it's true. You hated me. I could see the rage in your eyes. But you never did. Did you know that?"
"Peter, I... I don't trust myself."
"I trust you," he murmured faster than he thought he would, but he stood strong with his words. He couldn't afford to lie to her - there was too much strain in whatever kind of fucked relationship they had for him to. But he wasn't lying.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
He nodded. "Yes, I do."
"How?!" she cried out, her grip on his wrists tight. "You just said you saw me melt people's insides, how can you trust that?! I can't control It! What if it happens to you?! I would never forgive myself-"
"You have no idea, Amara, everything could be perfectly fine-"
"And what if it's not, Peter?" she argued, trying to push his arms off her. "What if I have a bad day and It decides that It wants to be cranky? Kill a few people along the way? And you're the closest person that satisfies It?"
"Amara-"
"What if we're having another fight like we are now and It decides that It's had enough? I cannot stay at that Mansion, I cannot be around people, and I cannot be with you!"
"What about me, do I get a say in this?" he asked, throwing his arms out to the side.
"No," she laughed, "you don't."
"Really? And why the fuck not?"
"Are you the one with the murderous fiend chipping away at your sanity as you try to live a normal life, Peter?" she spat back, pushing against his shoulder to emphasize her words.
"No," he answered, catching her hand to pull her closer. "But I want to help the person that is."
She struggled to get out of his grip as she snarled, "Well I don't need your help, much less want it."
Peter could see the hesitancy in her eyes. He couldn't see it before, but he noticed it now. The little extra blinks she did to indicate that she was lying. The avoidance of eye contact. The deep growl in her voice, almost as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.
"I don't think that's true," he said, the both of them continuing to fight in each other's grips. "And even if it was-"
But his sentence was cut off as he was pushed back a little more aggressively than he planned. He forgot that he was standing on stairs as he tried to balance himself, and his heart lurched when he tripped and when flying back.
His grip on Amara's arms pulled her down with him. But she caught them. His body didn't even tumble to the ground. He simply floated in the air until she put him down, laying on his back with her on top of them, both of them riddled with heavy breathing on the disaster that could have just struck.
"I know that I need you," he finished, looking into her eyes as she leaned over him.
When she scoffed and tried to pull away, Peter used one hand to grab her thigh and wrapped the other around her waist. He wasn't proud of the tumble they went through as he flipped the both of them over, but when his hands fell to either side of her head, he looked down into her eyes.
"No, you don't," she breathed angrily, using her power to flip them around again, and this time pin him there so he stayed there.
"I do," he whispered back. He was aware of the grip that she had on his wrists, keeping them on either side of his shaking head. "And it's not just 'cause I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you. Which... is absolutely true."
Her hair fell around them as she leaned in closer. She was clearly trying to see if he was lying, but when she couldn't find any, all of the anger that she had left dissipated. Her eyebrows relaxed and her eyes glistened, but she didn't move away.
"Then why?" Her voice was so fragile, so broken, he almost felt something inside himself do the same thing. But he had to be strong. He couldn't back down now.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know why. I don't know why I would watch you twirl your hair in class and draw little patterns in the margins of your pages, or why I would throw things at you to get your attention, or why I would get you mad enough to throw me around the room, just so that I could have you talk to me, because any conversation with you was better than nothing at all."
She inhaled shakily and leaned into him just enough to have their breaths mix.
He had to lay himself out on the table. He didn't know if this was the right move. It could be too overwhelming, but he did say he was going to be honest.
"I don't think I can pretend to hate you anymore. And... you said you don't hate me. Do you want them to think that you do? We don't have to tell anyone, if that's what you want. I can pretend in front of them if I can still be with you, just the two of us."
His eyes flickered down to her lips. He really wanted to kiss her, but this had to be something she wanted, too. He wasn't going to kiss her until she kissed him first - which made things extremely difficult, because if he didn't make any of the first moves this wasn't going anywhere.
"I want you in my life, Ames," he murmured. "I don't care what I have to do, or how long it takes to show you that."
There was a beat of nothing as Amara simply sat there. Her grip on his wrists were still tight, but he couldn't even tell if she was breathing, she was so still. Her eyes practically stared into his soul. The grey faded from her irises and revealed the tears threatening to escape.
"Peter, I..." She didn't bother wiping the tears that finally trickled down her cheek. "I can't..."
But she didn't finish her sentence. She just stood up as fast as she could and bolted up the stairs, leaving Peter laying on the floor. His eyes closed and his hands pulled at his hair when he heard her slam another door.
This was so complicated. There were so many layers she had built up around herself, and he was going to have to find a way around every single one. Who knows if he was even going to get that far. He might be old and wrinkly before she finally lets him in.
However, there was an urge. There was something inside him telling him it was worth it, and he had to keep fighting. He let the hate thing go on for too long, and he had to make it right. He at least owed it to Amara for that.
Peter stood up with a sigh and looked around the living room. Whatever he did wrong, he had to make it right.
He didn't know how, but he would.
There was another slam of a door upstairs, but Peter didn't bother looking. He said what he wanted for now, and he clearly had to give Amara space. He was worried that if he poked too much it would make things like they used to be, and that was the last thing he wanted. He needed things to move forward, not backward.
But when he heard her footsteps thunder back to the staircase, he finally looked up. His feet were lifted from under him, and he was sitting on the ground again. Her eyes flashed hazel as she stormed up to him, but he didn't have time to say anything as she swung her leg over his waist, straddled his hips, and pressed her lips against his firmly.
His eyes widened for a split second. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. He couldn't believe what was happening. Her hands were soft as they cradled his cheeks. Her lips were chapped but full. Her body was pressed against his.
And his hands moved. His eyes slipped closed and he kissed back, gripping her thighs and pulling her closer.
He didn't think he'd ever be able to fully understand what was going on in this girl's head, but at that moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was kissing him, with her hands buried in his hair and her body on his.
Her fingers reached down to push his sweater off his shoulders. When her tongue swiped his mouth he parted his lips immediately and reached for the ends of his sleeves to tug it off his arms. He groaned when her hips moved against his.
"God, you infuriate me," she breathed out. The kiss she delivered after that was bruising and told the opposite story that her words did. He decided to listen to the story of her kiss, because the passion that it delivered was nothing compared to her words.
She wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss her.
He helped her with her own sweater and tossed it to the side, but his hands gravitated back to her body. His hand reached up to cup her jaw while the other snaked around her waist. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she pushed him down. Her fingers snuck under his shirt. Her hips dragged at an agonizingly slow pace. He kissed her hungrily, desperate for any sort of touch that showed affection since he had been beaten to nothing for what felt like forever.
His head fell against the floor when she nipped at the skin of his neck. This was just about the last thing he expected her to do, but he wasn't complaining. He supposed that was the only constant thing about Amara: everything she did was unexpected, and probably the craziest idea of them all.
"And you confuse me more than anyone I've ever met before," he finally responded, his breathing labored and quicker than he anticipated it to be.
Her lips moved back up to his own, but she stopped just before they touched. Their noses bumped and their breaths mixed but neither of them moved from that spot, centimeters apart from each other.
While one of her thumbs tickled his cheek bone, her other brushed his hair out of his face to get his hair out of his eyes. He did the same by cradling her jaw, and his eyes locked on hers.
"You make my life so difficult, Peter Maximoff," she said softly, continuing to pet his hair. "I'm supposed to stay away from you, but you make it so hard."
His breath hitched, but he didn't dare interrupt her.
"I'm supposed to despise you, but you make me forget about everything bad that's ever happened to me. It's like when I kiss you, it all just..." She leaned forward and kissed him slowly. "Disappears."
Her kisses were getting deeper, and his heart was beating faster.
"And I'm supposed to hate you."
He opened his eyes to see her tracing the details of his face. He gulped.
"But if anyone ever hurts you again, I'll make them sorry they ever even looked your way."
His insides shouldn't have fluttered when she said that. He didn't want her to hurt anyone; he knew that wasn't something she seriously wanted. But her eyes were hazel, which meant this was Amara talking.
She has to know that he would never ask her to do something like that. But something told him that didn't matter. Not with Amara, and not if she was using her mutation.
She was kissing him again, and he didn't have time to respond.
By the next time she pulled back, he was breathless again.
"When we get home, Peter, this is going to be over," she murmured, cupping his jaw with her hand. "Because I'm going to hurt you. I don't deserve to be with you. I'm a bad person. Bad people don't get to be with good people."
She didn't look into his eyes as she said that, but he heard the crack in her voice.
He was starting to figure it out. He couldn't ask questions - those would agitate her and get her angry. But if he just showed her how he felt, she would tell him on her own time. He just needed to take his time. Slow down, and go at her pace.
So, he simply brought her head back down to his and continued moving their lips, allowing for time to explore and learn. He had to learn what she liked, and he had to use that to let her know that he was on her side.
Amara's trust in him was going to have to rebuild - he had to prove he wasn't going to be an asshole anymore, and that all he wanted to do was hold her. That's all he's wanted.
"Maybe I don't want it to be over," he whispered against her lips.
She frowned. "It has to be."
Peter had to remind himself that Amara wasn't going to be the one that tried to keep them together, no matter how much she wanted it. Already she was trying to push him away. But if she felt the way he thought she did, he was going to give her everything to show he was serious. He would show her he wanted this.
He was just going to have to find a way in.
"Then... Can you kiss me so I can forget about the bad, too?"
Amara's widened eyes were cute as she looked at him, but he only stared back innocently. He supposed that if she was going to be unexpected, then he was, too.
And it worked. She leaned forward and kissed him, but it wasn't as desperate and messy as before. It was careful. It was gentle. It left him feeling warm on the inside, and slowly more and more desperate.
"Don't stop, Peter," she whispered against his lips, her eyes telling him everything she meant. He stopped himself before, and she didn't want him to this time. This was the direction she wanted to go. This was the pace, this was the feeling, this was the want.
Her fingers slipped under his shirt again, and Peter took that as his cue to finally stand up. If he was going to do this, then he was going to do it right.
Her eyebrows were knit in confusion when she looked up at him. Peter responded to her silent question by hooking one of his arms under her knees, and the other under her lower back.
Amara was lighter than he expected as he raised her in the air, and he held on tight. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders, but he stood there for a second, observing the details of her face up close.
And after she leaned forward to peck his lips, Peter turned to the stairs and started the climb to the second floor.
*****
w/c: 3561
a/n: i know it's taking a little while to get there, but i promise, the next chapter will be worth it ;) hope you're enjoying the story so far, and thanks for all the reads and votes!! they really mean a bunch!! xx