Hazy – Pietro Maximoff
A/N: This has been
out and about on different blogs, but I think this is a good home for it.
discovers that adhesive bath mats are a good thing and must be rescued from her
own clumsiness. Warnings include accidental injury, pain medication-induced
stupidity, and problematic nudity.
The best thing
about this place, aside from the amazing magic girl across the hall that you
might actually be allowed to call your friend, and her superhot brother, was
the shower. Oh what a shower. You’d gotten your hands on one of those rainwater
shower heads and it made the whole bathroom steam up with the amount of hot
water it could produce. Oh shower, you thought, only you understand me.
You were singing
along to a specifically made shower playlist, scrubbing your new shampoo into
your hair (“Jasmine scented?” you’d thought as you bought it, “Yes, please!”)
and were just beginning to wonder whether to cook something or order takeout
when it happened.
You took a wrong
step backward, your ankle suddenly twisted, and the next thing you knew your
feet were in the air and you were falling. Your shoulder collided with the
shelf of the shower and your head banged hard against the wall. Your shoulder
made a terrible popping, crunching, tearing sound and it hurt so bad that you
actually screamed. Your face wash even added to the calamity, dive-bombing your
face from a higher shelf.
was definitely broken. You tried to move, but the small attempt sent a wave of
nausea-inducing agony from your shoulder through the rest of your body. It made
your head spin more than the crack against the wall had. You had only one
thought: get the water turned off.
Getting up was
apparently not an option, so you tried scooting down the edge of the shower and
across the floor, lifting your leg up to flip the shower handle to the “off”
setting, whimpering and cursing the entire way. Once the shower had stopped
spraying in your face (oh shower, how could you betray me?), you concentrated
on fishing a towel into the shower, reaching out toward the towel bar with your
good arm. You gave the fluffy pink monster off a towel a swift yank, and it
collapsed on top of you, covering you. Okay great. Now what?
familiar voice called from the living room.
It hadn’t occurred
to you how much noise you’d been making, but now that you had a second to think
about it while you were lying in the shower covered in a slowly dampening pink
towel, it did seem inevitable that somebody would have heard the thuds and the
screams. Of course, you really would have rather it be literally anyone else
that had heard said screams. It couldn’t be Wanda, or Nat, or even Steve. No.
You couldn’t be that lucky.
yelped, “I’m in the bathroom!”
“Are you okay?”
his voice was getting closer and you could tell he was just outside the
“I fell,” you
explained, feeling increasingly foolish with each word, “I think I dislocated
my shoulder,” you paused, really really really not wanting to say what you’d
just realized you’d have to say, “I – I need your help.”
He edged the door
open and the steam disappated. It was much easier to remark on how tall he was
from down here on the floor of the shower, you thought as you gazed up at him.
Wow he was pretty. Just so very pretty.
“Hi…” you said
“Hi,” he responded,
taking in what you assumed to be your pathetic form.
“I can’t move,” you
“I see that,” came
the answer, “Which shoulder?”
“My left,” you
answered, trying and failing to roll over slightly so as to cover more of
yourself with the towel.
jostled your shoulder and you gave a little whimper. Pietro, now looking more
concerned than anything, knelt down next to you.
“Can I…?” he
trailed off, holding out his arms to indicate that he wanted to carry you.
You winced at the
thought, but nodded.
“We can try,” you
It hurt. It hurt a
lot. After a some embarrassing squirming and a lot of whining from you, and a
little effort and a lot of evading of eyes from him, you were wrapped in a
towel and sitting on your bed, cradling your left arm across your chest. Pietro
was sitting next to you, looking your shoulder over.
“I think you have
done some serious damage,” he said solemnly.
“Oh,” was about
all you could say to that.
“We should get you
to the medical bay,” he continued.
“So…we should go
to the medical bay?” he phrased it as a statement, but it definitely came out a
snapped into place in your brain, “I need clothes”
Pietro looked, if
“You can go in a
towel. I’ll carry you. No one will see,” he insisted.
“I…no! I am not
crossing the compound in a towel! I need clothes!” the pain was starting to
make you snappish.
Pietro sighed, and
crossed to your dresser, producing an orange tank top and a pair of pink
shorts. You shook your head, wrinkling
your nose. He sighed again.
“These are clothes,
no?” he insisted.
“They don’t go,”
“Oh for…we are
going to the medical bay. The clothes are purely to cover you, not to make you
look fashionable,” he snapped.
“But… okay fine,”
You stood, good
hand still clinging to your towel. Pietro stared at you. You stared back.
“I can’t do it by
myself,” you finally conceded.
sigh was the only response you got to that. He approached, but you stopped him.
“What?” he was
definitely exasperated now.
“You can’t look,”
“I…what do you
mean I can’t look?” it would have been fair to say he was losing patience.
You just looked up
into his eyes. This catastrophe was not at all how you had envisioned him
seeing your naked body. You were hoping for something pleasant, possibly even
sexy, something that, at the very least, didn’t involve that terrible orange
t-shirt he was holding.
His face softened.
“Okay, I’ll close
my eyes,” he offered, holding out the shorts.
It was a
complicated operation. You managed to climb into the shorts without too much
trouble, holding onto a closed-eyed Pietro as you stepped into the shorts he
was holding out. But the shirt proved more complicated. You tried to wiggle up
into it from the bottom as he held it out, but ultimately your bad arm just got
stuck in the sleeve, your feet managed to tangle around each other, and you
faceplanted directly into his muscular chest. The contacted jolted his eyes
open as you whimpered into his shirt.
“We need to get
you to medical bay,” he repeated, murmuring into your hair.
“Okay,” you said
into his chest. You’d had enough of trying to get dressed anyway.
He scooped you up,
bridal style, and before you even had time to be self-conscious, he was setting
you into a chair in the medical bay.
The doctor on duty
stared at you, from your mismatched outfit, your chicken-wing-like arm that was
wedged into your t-shirt sleeve, your still wet hair from the disastrous
shower, to Pietro, who was naturally standing before her like some young god.
“What seems to be
They’d given you
enough pain medication to sedate a baby elephant, which thankfully had dulled
the throbbing in your shoulder. On the other hand, it also made you incapable
of monitoring what was coming out of your mouth.
Pietro had been
incredibly sweet as he’d sat with you, held you when they reduced your
shoulder, and carried you out of the medical bay. You arm was bound up in a
sling, which made clinging to him extra hard, but that didn’t matter now. You
weren’t actually aware of any problems right now.
“…and I really
don’t understand how the hammer works, I mean, does it decide who’s worthy?
What does worthy mean? Can you be a little bit worthy? But not all the way
worthy? Can an inanimate be object worthy? So many questions….” You babbled
smiled, bemused by your ramblings. The medication seemed to have an odd effect
on you, making you far more prone to saying whatever came into your head. He
wondered if this explained your friendship with his sister. Wanda could pull
this information out of you without having to experience you on pain
You arrived at
your apartment, you still babbling on about the physics of Thor’s hammer.
Pietro set you carefully on your feet. You wobbled dangerously.
“I think I need to
take you to bed,” he observed as you struggled to stay upright.
“You have no idea
how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” you answered.
What the hell?
Did you just say that?
You reached out
absently with your right hand in an attempt to grab the words and stuff them
back in your mouth.
You looked up at
him, trying very hard to focus on his face. Warm blue eyes, mildly surprised.
“I…” you couldn’t
think of what to follow that up with.
“Come on,” he
said, trying to brush off the strange wave of warmth that had washed through
him at your comment.
He scooped you up
again and walked you to the bedroom, depositing you on the bed. You wrapped
your good arm around him and refused to let go.
“I like this,” you
purred, your fingers tangling gently through the silver curls on the back of
His blue eyes
seemed strangely celestial up this close, like the clarity of the sky in May.
There was so much in his eyes; you were easily mesmerized. Sadness and a sort
of permanent pain, but also warmth. Warmth that you’d never experienced, that
you’d always craved. His fingers lingered along your throat, gently brushing
their way up to your jaw. He cupped your chin gently in his hand. You leaned
closer, trying desperately to close the distance between you.
And suddenly he
was gone. He’d untangled himself from you arm and shot across the room before
you could blink. The chill that lingered on your skin at his lack of presence
made you shiver.
“No,” he said
That no, that one little
syllable, translated into your foggy brain as a complete, utter, total and
irreversible rejection. You weren’t sure when you had tears in your eyes, but
suddenly you were crying.
“No! No, no, no,
no, [Y/N] do not cry, please!” he was back at your side just as quickly as he’d
“I thought you
liked… I thought you wanted this…?” you sobbed.
“I…” he closed his
eyes, composing himself, “I do want this,” he smiled wryly, “I want this very
much. But…[Y/N], not like this.”
He stared at you, shaking
“[Y/N] you are in
pain. You are drugged. You are not yourself. You would not forgive me…” he
broke off, his expression hardening, “I would not forgive myself if I took
advantage of that.”
You stared dumbly
at him, your heart thudding in your chest so loudly that you were certain he
could hear it.
His blue eyes met
yours again, “You understand, yes?”
speak. You simply nodded. He nodded in return, then stood to leave the room.
You reached out with your good arm, gripping his wrist.
thinking that you had somehow missed the previous conversation.
“[Y/N] we have
just spoken of –“ he began, but you cut him off.
“I know. But stay.
Not… not like that. Just stay?” you all but begged.
He looked at you,
seemed to size up your motivations, then sighed.
stay. But you must rest.”
enthusiastically, scooting over to make room for him. He nestled into the bed
next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. The medicine was starting
to take you under.
Your last hazy
memory was of Pietro, his fingers softly stroking your hair, his breathing a
steady rhythm that pulsed you gently to sleep.