Welcome to My Random Space !!

Everything hurt.

Your favorite blanket scratched against your skin painfully, itching and trapping you in a too hot cocoon of needles. In some hellish twist, you’d come down with the flu after your most recent mission and you were of course benched until you could be cleared as fully healed. Technically you needed the rest, having gone from mission to mission with little down time for the past month. Most likely the hard work and long hours is what left you vulnerable to the virus, but did it really count as time off if you were facing an entire week suffering in bed?

You tossed and turned to free yourself from your prison, whining when you couldn’t muster the strength to break out. Exhaustion forced you to give up for the time being, but you could swear you could feel your skin melting off with the heat. The quiet bedroom left you alone with no distractions. To make matters worse, the one person you wanted was gone, seemingly having left for an unforeseeable amount of time. You thought she'd been there earlier, but the day was so hazy, it hurt to even try to string together what you’d done earlier. Either way, you wanted her right now. “Wand-!” It was meant to be a shout for attention, but something choked you and sent you into a coughing fit. Your throat was like sandpaper, there was no chance of calling for her louder. It was hopeless.

“Eh…” You turned over onto your stomach with a heavy flop, feeling pathetic and depressed with how sick you’d grown. It was worse without Wanda; she was so caring and gentle. You wanted her comforting aura to come and kiss away all your aches and pains. Dealing with sickness alone wasn’t new obviously. Years of life on the run and false aliases meant you were no stranger to taking care of yourself, having dragged yourself out of bed to brave the walk to the pharmacy for medicine way too many times to count. For better or for worse, you’d gotten used to Wanda’s nurturing presence and expected her to be around or nearby most of the time to help you through and now you were dependent. With a grimace you realized the witch had trapped you without you noticing. You needed her.

“That meaniebutt.” If you were less delirious maybe you’d have a better insult.

✣ ✣ ✣

Deep in your sulking and slumbering state, you missed the sound of your door creaking open, an anxious Wanda creeping through as quietly as she could manage. “Y/n? I’m back, detka.” She had as many things as she could carry on her makeshift nursing tray- flu medicine, water, orange juice, tea (she couldn’t decide which beverage would help you best), tissues, and a damp rag; maybe she’d gone a little overboard. She dreaded leaving you in such a state, having been stuck by your bedside since last night when you first started sneezing, and wanted to bring as much as she could at once to reduce how long she had to be away. Securely placing the high-piled tray on the nightstand, Wanda kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the bed. She would’ve worried about disturbing you by sitting so close, but doubted you even felt the mattress move with how you somehow managed to take each layer of blankets from your shared bed and become a fully realized burrito.

After allowing herself a laugh with how your sleeping form wiggled like a worm, she took pity and worked on untangling you as slowly as she could so as not to startle you. “How’d you get so caught up, hm? I was only gone for half an hour.” Freedom allowed Wanda to take in your face, puffy, red, and sniffly. Her poor darling. She saw your eyelids fluttering and thought maybe she could keep you awake long enough to take your medicine. You’d fought her on it earlier, something about ‘medicine is for squares,’ but she won by promising you juice and forehead kisses once you cooperated. If all went well, she’d win this afternoon match. “Wake up, love. It’s time to drink your medicine.”

A cool hand was brushing sweat-laden hair from your face as you roused from sleep and you instinctively leaned into the touch. But then the dreaded word: medicine. “No way.” Your cheeks puffed out and you tried to snuggle back under your quilt, preferring the irritation of your plush cave to any possibility of icky cough syrup.

Wanda sighed, preparing to bribe you again, but all too soon you were rolling away from her. “Ah ah, come back here, you,” she reached out to pull you back from the mattress’ edge and tried to bring you safely into her arms, but you resisted. “Don’t be fussy, I promise it’ll be quick if you get it over with and then you’ll get all the cuddles you can possibly stand.” The promise of being held by your girlfriend almost never failed to change your mind, but this time you continued squirming in her grasp. “Baby, what’s the matter? Don’t you want me to stay with you?”

“No!” Your fists hit the mattress with surprising strength, taking almost all of your energy to raise them and kick at the air. “I want my girlfriend! I want her to hold me and stay with me!” This was all too overwhelming; first you were sick, then you’d been woken up after finally getting to sleep, and now Wanda was nowhere to be found. You were miserable, sleepy, achy, and you missed your girlfriend, this sucked. You were crying before you realized it, but being too weak-willed to hold back, quiet sobs turned into all out bawling, still tossing and turning in the unfamiliar hold that just would not let up on your shoulders.

Oh. Her girlfriend was really that out of it… you didn’t recognize that she was right there, that she hadn’t left you alone with an unfamiliar caretaker. It tugged at her heartstrings more than she liked to admit. Wanda set you back on a pillow, ensuring you wouldn’t hit your head in your childish tantrum. Satisfied for the time, she readjusted and tried a new approach: moving your head into her lap. Thankfully you’d tired of fidgeting for the most part, settling for pitiful whines and pleas for the girlfriend who you hadn’t yet realized was taking care of you this whole time. Wanda was determined to soothe you one way or another, whoever you thought was looking after you. “I’m here, princess. Mommy’s here.” She grabbed the cloth she’d brought, hoping the cool wetness would bring you back to your senses even a bit.

You welcomed the relief of the cold compress and although still grumpy, your body relaxed atop soft thighs to accept the help. After a time, you grew aware of sweet singing from a voice that could only belong to one person. The song was accompanied by a lone finger brushing back and forth over your overheated cheeks and your spirits lifted instantly. “Mommy…?” God, you were so tired. Opening your eyes fully felt like pulling apart jail bars, but you needed to see her. As soon as you met those kind eyes you melted. She was there; she didn’t leave you. Comfortable as you were, the distance was too much for you. Wiggling away from the compress on your forehead, you scrambled to sit up only to force yourself into Wanda’s lap. The sudden movements left your foggy head dizzy and you slumped against your girlfriend, head laid out on her shoulder, arms heavy around her waist. “You came back.”

Wanda shook her head; the sick version of you apparently came with an endearing silliness. “My love, I only went to the store to get stuff for you. I expected I’d get back before you woke up, but you must’ve been awake for a little while I was out. I’d never think of leaving my sick little girl all alone to fend for herself.” The tip of her finger poked your stuffy nose, eliciting a soft sneeze. In typical Wanda fashion, her sweet words left you putty in her arms, helpless to argue that she could’ve left a note even if you wanted to. “You’re the one who didn’t recognize me. I should be offended!” Her tone held no real anger, only teasing, but still you pouted in protest.

“I’ve got a fever, you can’t be mad…” You put on the saddest puppy expression you could muster and Wanda arched a disapproving eyebrow. “I’m sorry, mommy,” you gave Wanda a tight squeeze as apologies, hugging her for comfort much like you would your favorite stuffed animal.

“Yeah, okay,” you roll your eyes, knowing you would do no such thing. “You too.”

Pietro would purse his lips, giving a slow, unconvincing nod and averting his eyes down whilst lowering his hands back down to his sides. He’d stand there before you, silent, and you’d stand there, watching him, waiting. 

Something about this specific mission, however, was different. Pietro gave his speech as always, however, this time his jaw was clenched, his hands fidgeting at his sides. The ‘bad guy’, like Peter Parker often referred to him as, had something they hadn’t gone up against before; it was like he could manipulate their senses, make them see things that weren’t there, make them doubt their reality. 

Wanda could do such things, which eased Pietro’s nerves a bit, however, the foe the group was up against had a level of power that he was unsure if Wanda could match. She had only just begun using her power for good, and he wasn’t sure if she could control it so well. And it wasn’t like he was much help, either— all he could do was run around and hope to god that the other guy would pass out from a quick punch on the jaw.

The ride on the Quinjet felt like it lasted forever; Pietro, after racing to snag Peter Parker’s usual seat beside you, had had his legs positioned where his knee was touching yours for practically the whole flight; neither of you had bothered to move or mention it. The one measly hour it took to fly out to where your foe was located felt like a million, but it seemed to feel less scary when you were so preoccupied with Pietro’s presence beside you.

“You okay?” he murmured when it was time to get off the Quinjet. You hummed and nodded.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Are you?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Yeah.”

You didn’t believe him, but you didn’t push him further. He was nervous, you could tell that much, whether it be based on the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot or the way he kept repeatedly pressing on his knuckles as though to crack them again and again. 

Just before the team left the Quinjet, Steve Rogers gave one of his infamous speeches that you didn’t bother paying attention to, too busy fiddling with the lining of your suit and the adjustment of your gloves. When he finished, and the group of you descended from the aircraft, you kept your eyes off of Pietro (knowing he’d distract you) and tried your best to focus on the matter at hand. 

The man (if he was even that) the team was up against had been found to have distant ties with H.Y.D.R.A., loosely related to the Red Skull. According to Tony, he had hopes of gaining power and taking over New York at first, then the East Coast, followed by the nation. Tony had said it would be better to nip it in the bud now rather than waiting for a larger threat.

His headquarters was dark and damp, the air reeking of wet moss and rotten corpses. It was like a dungeon, you thought; all you needed was a magic mirror and you’d think this was a fantasy novel. Pietro stayed relatively close to you whether you liked it or not, and the feeling of his eyes on you never faded as you delved deeper into the building.

“Not here, huh,” Tony had observed, glancing around, the swish of his Iron Man suit echoing throughout the damp basement. His eyes trailed down the tunnels that split off the main room, trailing down into quiet darkness. “Okay, we’ll split up. Rhodey and I go one way, Cap and Wilson over there... Nat, Wanda, and Barton, Thor and Banner, and then... L/N and Speedy over there.”

Pietro and you traded glances. Tony turned to Steve.

“Is it a good idea to put them together?” he asked dryly. Steve shrugged.

“Eyes on the mission,” was all he said to the pair of you, staring specifically at Pietro, who lifted his hands up in defense and feverishly nodded his head. Steve nodded and turned to Sam Wilson, jerking his head to his left; off the two of them went.

Wanda came over to Pietro, brushing your shoulder comfortingly with her palm before muttering something in Sokovian to Pietro. He replied in his native tongue before pulling her in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“See you, Y/N,” she bid you goodbye. You pursed your lips in a smile and waved. Pietro sighed, facing you.

“Let’s go, then,” Pietro said, his arm brushing yours as he led the pair of you down one of the tunnels. You spared one glance at the main room, watching everyone split up, before you bit the inside of your cheek and followed Pietro into the tunnel.

---

PIETRO DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT. SOMETHING inside of his chest was tightening, flipping, and it certainly wasn’t the same as the butterflies he was feeling earlier. On the jet, his stomach had been fluttering and turning, but he knew that was because of the way his knee rested against yours. The way you held eye contact for just a second longer than usual, your e/c eyes wide. That was a very different nervousness. The one he felt currently was, perhaps, his intuition warning him. Or maybe it was just the smell of the wet tunnels making him sick.

“Should we turn back?” you asked warily, stopping and staring down at the endless darkness of the tunnel. You held up the end of your flashlight, the light fading into the black. “We’ve been walking for so long and haven’t found anything.”

“Don’t know,” Pietro said unsurely, squinting into the abyss ahead. “Maybe something is further up. See, look —what is that, a light? Something’s flashing.”

“I don’t see anything,” you said from behind him, lowering your flashlight. “Pietro, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“So do I,” he admitted, glancing down at you, watching as you fidgeted with the flashlight. Sighing, he ran a hand through his white-blonde hair, scratching at his scalp before placing a hand on your shoulder and rubbing his thumb into your collarbone. He felt you shiver. “But we gotta keep going, okay? Stark’ll be pissed if he finds out we bailed.”

“I’m not saying we bail,” you clarified, your darkened blush hidden by the darkness. “Just saying it seems fruitless.”

“If nothing comes up in the next hour, we’ll go back, all right?”

You pouted. “Fine.”

The pair of you kept walking; Pietro tried to keep his mind on the matter at hand, trying his very best to ignore the goosebumps he kept getting every time your hand brushed his. At one point, the back of his hand accidentally brushed your thigh, and he purposefully picked up his pace so as to make it seem like it never happened. 

The light at the end of the tunnel got slightly brighter, giving him a sliver of confidence that maybe the pair of you would find something. Pursing his lips, he grabbed your arm suddenly and said, “I’m gonna speed us down there. Hold on.”

He looped his arm around your torso and picked you up before racing down the tunnel towards the light; it was blinking, he realized, as you two got closer. His hands tightened around your torso as he slowed down, letting his fingers linger on your waist just as he let you down.

“What is it?” you wondered as Pietro ran his hands over the side of the tunnel. 

The light was coming from the bottom, as though there was a hidden door and the light came from the crack at the bottom. Pietro let his hands find a divot in the metal walls, and when he pulled, he felt the wall come loose. He grinned at you, smirking. “Bingo.”

You were still frowning, however, now he could see the clear red tint on your cheeks. You huffed and gestured your hands as though for him to enter through the passage first, glancing up at him through your lashes. The butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings, he rolled his eyes and complied.

The room, he saw, was what looked like a laboratory back in Sokovia when he and Wanda volunteered at HYDRA. He stepped in, lips parted and brows furrowed at the sight of the place. Just as he entered the room entirely, however, he felt the door slam behind him, and then watched with panicked eyes as the lines of the door disappeared entirely as though they were never there at all.

“PIETRO?” he heard you scream from the other side, followed by the banging of fists on the wall. He shouted your name out, dragging his hands along the wall to try and find that divot again; to no avail. “Pietro, there’s— there’s something in here!”

“I’m coming!” he yelled, banging on the now blank wall. “Don’t move, I’m— I’m trying to get through!”

“Pietro, help! Quickly!” he heard you shout, your voice cracking with terror. “Please, it’s— I don’t know what it is!”

His heart had dropped, a sick feeling of dread flooding up through his chest and stomach as he brought all his force to the door with the weight of his shoulder, throwing himself at the wall to try and break through. He could hear you bawling, fists still slamming against the wall. 

You screamed for him again, gasping with each breath, the banging of yours fists fading. You then, all at once, fell quiet; he could hear your staggered breaths, tiny whimpers escaping your lips.

“Y/N?” he called. “What’s happening?”

“It’s right in front of me,” he heard you whisper. “Please, Pietro...!"

Tears had escaped his eyes now, his breathing becoming uneven as he heard a screech from something unfamiliar followed by a cry from you. He shouted for you, jogging backwards before putting all his force into a running start to crash against the wall. Just as he collided with the wall, it popped open, and he tumbled through, rolling onto the wet floor of the tunnel. 

Lifting himself off, he wiped off his hands, the light from the open door letting him see the red stains his hands had left on the blue-silver of his suit. Panicked, he scrambled to his feet and glanced around before his eyes landed on none other than you, shaking, curled up against the wall, your entire front covered in your own blood.

“Y/N,” he gasped, falling to his knees and wiping the hair out from in front of your eyes. “No, no, I— I tried to get to you, I couldn’t—”

“Pietro—” you started to cough, blood spilling from your tongue and coating your plump lips. “Where— where were you?”

Your voice was wobbly, your face pale and your skin cold. You couldn’t meet his eyes, e/c irises blankly staring off. 

“I— the door, it— it closed behind me, I didn’t know—”

“It got me,” you sputtered, more blood spilling from between your lips. You wiped them off with your sleeve. “It got me, Piet.”

“No, no, you’re gonna be fine,” he tried to reassure you, salty tears streaming down his face. He cupped your cheek, wiping the blood from your skin; you closed your eyes and leant into his touch before slowly lowering your legs from where they were curled up. 

Your chest and stomach were littered with five large curved gashes; your face was left unscathed with the exception of the blood that was smeared around your lips. You coughed again, shaking. Your eyes were fluttering as though you were struggling to keep them open, pupils dilated and lower lip trembling.

“Nu, nu, rămâi cu mine!” he panicked, the Sokovian slipping from his lips without realizing it. “Don’t close your eyes, okay? I’m gonna — I’m gonna get you out of here—!”

“I don’t wanna die,” he heard you say helplessly, staring off. “I’m so scared, Piet, I don’t— I don’t like this—”

“Just stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine, I got you, please don’t—”

Tears pouring from his bloodshot eyes, his hair tousled so wildly about his head that it was practically standing upright, he pulled you in closer. You were barely moving, your limbs limp at your sides. “I’m scared, I’m so scared, it hurts so bad—”

“No, no! Y/N, please, just hang in there for me, okay?” Pietro panicked as he watched your eyes flutter back. He grabbed your shoulder, shaking you, before cupping both cheeks and holding you tight. “C’mon, no, don’t do this! Y/N, please, stay with me, stay with me...!”

You didn’t move again, lips parted, eyes closed. You continued to bleed, the red staining his forearms. He let out a cry of anguish, holding you close to his chest, muttering your name.

“HELP!” he shouted out, wanting none other but to run for help but knowing he could never leave you here. His voice echoed down the tunnel fruitlessly, faded into nothingness. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing the last of you in. “No, no, no, no..."

Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder made him jolt up, his head snapping up. It was Wanda, her brow furrowed and her face worried. Behind her was Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, both with bewildered faces.

“What?” Pietro breathed, still shaking. He turned his head to see you, except with open eyes and a blood-free chest. “I— Y/N?”

“What happened?” you asked him carefully. “Are you okay?”

“You’re— you’re okay?” he breathed, before he flung his arms around you and pulled you flush against him. “O Doamne. Slavă Domnului. Te iubesc aşa de mult.”

You wrapped your arms equally tight around him, cradling his trembling body close to you; you locked eyes with Wanda, who stood behind him, trading perplexed expressions.

“Pietro,” Wanda asked him softly when he refused to let go of you. “What happened?”

“You froze when you opened that door,” you told him carefully. “It was like you blacked out with your eyes open. And then you fell to your knees, and I... what did you see?”

“Something... something got you,” he muttered, wiping at his face and peeling away from you. He kept his hand on your hand, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles as though to remind himself that you were here, breathing, heart-pumping. “Clawed through you, and... I couldn’t save you. You were bleeding, everywhere, it was... it was...O doamne...” 

He trailed off, clenching his jaw and wiping at his face again.

“I’m here,” you told him. He shifted his gaze to you, icy blue eyes melting into yours, pupils blown out wide and tears dripping off of his long lashes. His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes refused to leave you. Your chest flipped and you squeezed your hand around his. "Nothing’s happened to me.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I could have... I could have sworn it was real.”

You said nothing, only letting him lean himself closer into you. He glanced down at his hands, calloused, pale palms sharply contrasting from your smaller, softer ones.

“There was so much blood. I thought I lost you,” he mumbled. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wanda, Nat, and Steve take a few steps as though to give the pair of you privacy.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you offered a small smile, your voice lightening in an attempt to soften your tone. He pursed his lips, and you, impulsively, lifted a hand to cup his face, wiping the apple of his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “Oh, Piet... I’m okay. I’m not gonna leave you.”

He gazed over at you, eyes glazed over and cheeks still a pinky-red as you brushed the hair out of his eyes. Brows tilted upwards, he found himself getting entirely lost on your features, the curves and creases of your skin, the slope of your nose, the color of your cupid’s bow.

“Nu puteam trăi fără tine,” he muttered. Wanda made a small noise from behind the pair of you, and you turned to see her quickly drag Nat and Steve away from the scene, hiding in a darker corner out of view. You furrowed your brows but turned back to Pietro.

“What’d you say?” you asked. He swallowed, eyes flickered down at your lips. Your heart leapt.

“I— it’s—” he took a wobbly breath. “It’s not important. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

---

THE RIDE HOME WAS QUIET. Tony and Rhodey had, in fact, found the foe you all were in search of. All of the tunnels ended up conjoining in another room, all leading to the same place, and Tony had managed to shoot the guy down while he was distracted, the same time he was busy messing with Pietro’s mind. 

The boy hadn’t left you since the tunnel. Always keeping at least one hand on you, his shaky breathing had yet to cease, the speed of his heart never slowing. Your tangible presence had helped, but their were occasions during the flight where he’d attempt to sleep, only to jolt himself awake with a terror-stricken gasp; his eyes would snap open and he’d instantly grab ahold of your wrist or hand, fingers digging into the dough of your skin to remind himself that you were there.

He held your hand whilst the pair of you descended from the jet and walked towards the compound. He let Wanda hug him for a moment, let her coddle him, before he retreated back towards you. Pietro had never got like this before, you thought to yourself... he was never so touchy, never so frantic to make sure you were by his side.

“Pietro,” you spoke up once you reached your bathroom. “I need to shower. Are you gonna be okay?”

He nodded his head, slipping his hand from yours and shoving it into his pocket. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be... showering, too.”

“All right,” you smiled at him and nudged his shoulder. “You sure? You look a little spacey.”

“I am,” he admitted. “Just... happy you’re here. Trying to appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to appreciate it,” you laughed. “I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

“Hey, I love you, y’know?” he said again, just as you moved to turn around. You turned bright scarlet at the casualness of his voice, but at the sight of his own red cheeks, you loosened up.

“I love you, too, y’know?” you replied, smiling sweetly. He pursed his lips into a small smile, blue eyes glittering. You hummed contently before turning around, putting your hand on the door knob.

You heard him click his tongue before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in tightly. You sharply inhaled and said nothing, eyes flickering around his face for a millisecond before he swooped down and pressed his mouth against yours. His lips were soft on yours, molding against you so well you were sure you’d be able to stay kissing him for the entire night.

Right as you let yourself melt into him, he pulled away, practically jumping back. Bright red, he stammered out, “I am so sorry. I’m sorry, I— I should’ve asked, I didn’t—”

“Pietro—”

“I’m just gonna go. I’m sorry I did that. It was totally uncalled for and I understand if you—”

“Pietro! Stop talking,” you interrupted, grabbing him by the collar of his suit. You pressed a speedy peck to his lips, to which he almost instantaneously leaned into, his arm lifting to rest onto your waist. “Can we finish this after I shower?”

He froze for a moment, blinking, before he let himself grin. “Yeah, okay.”

---

translation:

“Nu, nu, rămâi cu mine!” - No, no, stay with me!

“O Doamne. Slavă Domnului. Te iubesc aşa de mult.” - Oh my god. Thank god. I love you so much.

“Nu puteam trăi fără tine.” - I couldn’t live without you.

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