See-the-divine - This Is Me Trying

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see-the-divine

8 months ago

i went to cage the elephant last night and young the giant opened for them and when they played cough syrup all my glee heart could think of was karofsky and blaine

Evermore

Chapter 18. Reflecting light

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: canon-typical violence, injuries, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, protective Nadia, protective Pietro

“No, I didn’t.” His words were an exhale, the smile never faltering.

I breathed a laugh. “I have to keep things interesting.”

“You’ve never struggled to interest me.” His lips were back on mine within seconds before I even had time to process his words. Pietro tugged me closer to him by the hips, my hand slipping into his thick silver hair. My skin tingled as his chest pressed to mine, I needed to breathe yet the thought of pulling away was entirely unreasonable to me then. The buzzing of my phone in my pocket had him pulling back, a small smirk on his face. “Are you going to get that?” I rolled my eyes yanking the device out to see a text from Nat.

‘If the two of you are done eating each other’s faces the director of MI6 is here.’

I sighed exasperatedly. “Bureaucracy calls.”

Pietro’s smirk only grew. I turned to walk toward the conference room with the man hot on my heels. His choice to remain a few paces behind me rather than beside me had me narrowing my eyes. “Sorry, the view was just too good to pass up.” I followed his eyeline before stopping abruptly in my tracks when I realized what he was staring at.

“You are pushing it, Maximoff.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, I think you like it when I push you.”

“You have the rest of your life to be an annoying prick, why not take today off?”

“Well, you could always punish me by kissing me some more, I think that might help.”

I turned sharply, entering the conference room to see Steve and Nat seated at the table across from the director of MI6. The graying man stood, turning to face Pietro and me.

“Agent Pimenova, good to see you again.” He held his hand out to Pietro. “I’m Director Abbott, you must be Pietro Maximoff. MI6 thanks you both for your assistance in the arrest of miss Janssen. There is just the matter of the leaked information, we are currently performing a formal investigation into this.”

“Are you?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. I’d worked with MI6 before, I’ve never liked them, I only ever agreed because of Anna. One thing I can say for certain about them is that they always have an agenda, one they’re not often forthcoming about. “Of course, is there an implication there?”

Cap spoke up then. “Not at all, it’s just that given that Tara Janssen accused MI6 of leaking the information the matter is complicated.”

“Well since a criminal said it, I suppose we just take her word?” Abbott retorted.

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “You plan to conduct an internal investigation into your organization when no one knows who exactly the mole is?”

“This is standard procedure. MI6 is highly confidential about our intel, bringing outside entities in is risky enough in the field, we don’t intend to contract outside the organization for such delicate matters.”

“Oh yes, because all delicate matters have been handled so well by MI6 up until now?”

“I don’t appreciate your attitude, Agent Pimenova, and we are not entirely convinced that it is one of our agents who is at fault.”

A humorless laugh fell from my lips before I could stop it. “So, who do you think is at fault?” Natasha questioned, giving me a look that urged me not to bite back.

“Well, it’s not a black and white matter, however, we intend to investigate all individuals who took part in this operation.” He glanced at Pietro briefly as he spoke.

“Are you joking?”

His gaze was firm as he turned it on me once more. “Does this really surprise you? Mr. Maximoff is a new hire who was intensely involved from the beginning, he had access to all intel and knew the ins and outs of the operation. Not only this, correct me if I’m wrong, but it was not so long ago that he and his sister were antagonists to the Avengers.”

I felt that familiar white hot rage simmering through my veins and I clenched my hands into fists at my sides to anchor myself attempting to subdue the anger. “Pietro is an Avenger and he had nothing to do with this so you can cross him off of your suspect list. Someone on your team nearly got us killed, if I were you, I’d spend less time throwing around bullshit accusations and more investigating the people you work with. It’s not exactly auspicious for an intelligence agency to have a link so weak its handing your confidential intel to criminal organizations on a silver platter.” My tone was glacial at best, Abbott opened his mouth to continue. “I can’t imagine what else you have to say on the matter, Director.”

Cap put his hands up. “Alright, I don’t think there’s anything further, Director Abbott.” The man glanced at Steve with a pleased expression that promptly dissipated after the former spoke again. “Obviously we would require the investigation to be a combined effort between our resources and the MI6 institution to ensure an unbiased approach. Agent Maria Hill has said she’d be more than happy to assist in the matter.”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at the short man who was barely managing to contain his glower. “Very well then, we will be in touch in the coming weeks.”

Steve turned to me before he left the room. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid but you have got to stop almost dying.”

I smiled sheepishly, saluting him as he exited the conference room, flanked by Natasha who offered me a knowing look with a devious smirk attached. I glanced back at Pietro who leaned against the round table, a boyish smile painted across his expression. “What now?” I spoke, feigning annoyance, his smile only grew.

“I like it when you defend me.”

The tension between us was palpable, the air in the room thick with it. I narrowed my eyes at Pietro. “I wasn’t really defending you; I just like pissing Abbott off.”

“Whatever you say, Prinţesă.” His sweet smile had evolved into that smirk I knew all too well.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s funny, I seem to remember telling you not to call me that.” A smile tugged at my lips, but I fought hard to keep it down.

“Hm, I don’t remember that. Perhaps, it was back when you were pretending not to like it.”

I turned from him, walking toward the door before glancing back at him over my shoulder, a taunting lilt in my tone. “Who says I was pretending?” I didn’t manage to make it out the door before Pietro grabbed my wrist and spun me back to face him.

“You have a lying problem.” He murmured; voice deeper than it was a moment ago. Before I could respond his lips were on mine. This kiss was different to the others, passionate in the same way but more fervent, hungrier. My back hit the now closed door firmly, arms winding around Pietro’s neck to bring him closer. The discomfort of being touched was the furthest thing from my mind as he kissed me. There was no room for thoughts that didn’t revolve around the way his lips felt. A warm feeling pooled low in my stomach, it was sweet like honey and caused a flush to travel up my neck, coating my ears pink and making my flesh burn. I tugged Pietro’s hair with one hand, the other gripping his shoulder and pulling him closer. His hands travelled from my cheeks, down my arms, landing on my hips and pushing me further against the door. One of his hands drifted to my thigh, tugging it to sit around his hip; a niggling anxious feeling wormed its way through me at the contact, my heart beginning to beat faster. I gripped his shoulder tighter, not realizing the way my body had tensed until Pietro pulled away to look at me. “Nadia?” I shook my head, taking a deep breath and attempting to move past the discomfort when Pietro’s hand slipped higher on my hip, his thumb putting pressure unwittingly on the recently sutured flesh. I gasped in pain and Pietro’s touch was gone in an instant, he pulled away as if he’d been burned. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think…”

“It’s okay.” I reassured breathily, swallowing the pain, my hand going to cover the now throbbing stab wound. His face paled, eyes falling to my hip. I followed his line of sight, a small crimson patch beginning to soak into my shirt. “Let’s just go to the medical wing and patch it up, it’ll be fine.” He didn’t speak a word to me as we walked, remaining a few paces away from me the entire time. I slipped onto the examination table and began lifting my shirt over my head, wincing slightly at the pain in my abdomen as I lifted my arms, in a millisecond Pietro was before me, helping me to pull the fabric from my body, careful not to touch me. I was left in just my bra before him, the stitches were fine, just irritated. I cleaned them quickly before grabbing the bandage and roll of gauze and beginning to cover them. “See, all better.” There was silence in the room, but I could feel Pietro’s eyes burning into me prompting me to glance up. He was gazing at my abdomen, at the bruises that were still prominent, the wound I’d just covered and the two scars that lived on opposite sides of the flesh. He took a step toward me then. “It’s okay, Pietro.”

“No, it’s not, I made you bleed, Nadia.”

“Well, you’re not exactly the first person.” I teased. His face remained sullen, no hint of amusement. “Okay enough with the face, it was an accident, you can put the hair shirt away.”

He shook his head, jaw clenching. “It’s not just that, you were uncomfortable when I was touching you, I went too far.”

“You didn’t go too far… I- it was just fast, I can’t go that fast, not with that stuff.” I was murmuring by the end of my sentence. He just kept staring at the bruised flesh. “I’m really okay, the bruises don’t hurt that much anymore, and Tara has terrible aim so she didn’t get anything important.”

He remained silent for a long while. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t even really know what was going through his mind, but then he opened his mouth, and his words weren’t at all what I’d been expecting. “That is from Ultron.” He pointed at one of the two scars before his finger moved to the other. “What is that one from?” I looked down at the marred flesh, closing my eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I let out a heavy exhale, looking back up at him. “It was a long time ago.”

Whether it was February or sometime in June I was no longer sure.

The air was glacial around me, and I was sure I was dying.

There was blood pooling in the fabric of my suit, sweat plastering hair to my forehead even with the harsh winter air that bit at me. Annika was beside me; she was holding my hand as the snow at my side turned red.

“Отдыхай сейчас, сестра.”

Rest now, sister.

Saint Petersburg, 4 hours earlier

I gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, watching the water run down the drain. There was gold trim on everything in this fucking hotel and I felt like I was losing my mind. Exhaustion had made a home in the cave of my bones; my body had come to feel like a prison. There was a thin papery feeling that clung to me, seeping into my skin, disembowelling me to make room for the full breadth of it. Nausea washed over me, and a blink had me seeing nothing but red. I’d barely slept, the strange visions were becoming more consistent and Dreykov had been pushing all of us extra hard lately. I supposed it was the result of Natasha and Oksana’s dissemination from the Red Room.

“Sweet Anya, is everything alright in there?” Ambassador Schulz called from the other side of the door. I splashed some water on my face, looking up at myself in the mirror.

“Of course, I’ll be right out, любимый.” (Darling)

I adjusted the short black wig on my head, tousling the fringe before smoothing my hands over the top of my strapless dress. When I opened the door, the Ambassador was stood at the bar cart, pouring two glasses of whiskey from an expensive looking decanter. He crossed the room and handed one of the crystal glasses to me. He was a balding middle-aged man who was almost foot shorted than me when I wore heels. He reeked of pungent cologne and cigars, and I hated him. The ambassador was a disgusting man who’d spent most of the evening attempting to slip his hand beneath the slit of my dress. I clinked my glass with his before letting the amber liquid him my upper lip but never pass it.

“You know, Anya, I’ve been to a lot of countries, but Russian women have always remained my favorite . Although, you may be the most gorgeous of them all.”

I smiled at him, placing the whiskey on the accent table behind me and popping my legs one by one to slip my heels off. “You flatter me.” His hand grazed over my collarbone, caressing me in a way that had my skin crawling. “Perhaps you should check the door is locked, we wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt us.” He double checked the golden handle of the door, ensuring that the lock was indeed in place as I closed the curtains. After he checked the door he walked over the record player in the corner, letting the needle dance across the vinyl, classical music filling the suite. I returned to the middle of the room and Schulz’s hands were on me once again. He pressed his lips to mine roughly, biting and licking at my mouth like a rabid dog. I suppressed my cringe and kissed him back, shutting my mind off from the reality of what was happening.

“Turn around, whore.” He demanded. I wasn’t frightened by his tone; men like him didn’t hold that power over me anymore. His knuckles grazed my bare back as he moved to unzip my dress. I slipped the push dagger from my garter before the fabric fell to my ankles. The blade cut into my hand as I concealed it as he grabbed my shoulders roughly and pushed me down onto the bed. I moved quickly, swinging my legs to kneel on the mattress, slipping the knife into the back of my black underwear before beckoning Schulz to join me I pulled the jacket part way down his shoulders. He sat with his back to me. I left his blazer halfway down his arms, moving to loosen his tie next. I swallowed bile as he palmed at his crotch, grabbing a hold of my wrist and roughly pulling my hand between his legs. In a swift manoeuvre I pulled my hand from his grasp and wrapped my legs around him, one hand covering his mouth and the other grabbing the push dagger and dragging it across his throat.

“ Сладких снов, чувак .”

Sweet dreams, prick.

He thrashed against me, but I laid back and held tightly onto him, waiting for his to bleed out. I wasn’t sure exactly how long it had taken him to bleed out, it had felt to me like an eternity in but a moment. I shoved his limp body from me, his blood dripping from me as I stood pulling my suit from under the bed which had been planted for me whilst Schulz and I were at the opera together.

The clip of my belt almost covered the sound behind me, but I was far too adept after all of my cycles through the Red Room, there was no sneaking up on me anymore. I threw my arm backward, before I’d even looked, slicing through the air in the direction of the person who’d been behind me, they caught my arm before I could reach them, one of their gloved hands wrapping around the back of my neck and slamming my head against the table, knocking my glass onto the ground, whiskey splashing onto the marble as it shattered. I caught sight of the person in my peripheral, black mask covering all but his eyes and lips. He slammed my head against the table a second time, the turn of my head letting me see the gun holstered at his hip. I jammed the push dagger into the side of his thigh, pulling it out and stabbing him multiple times in the area, forcing him to release me as he groaned in pain. I ducked under the punch he threw, slipping beneath his arm and attacking him from behind and tackling him onto the ground and ripping the mask from him before grabbing onto his blonde hair and slamming his head against the marble tiles, red smearing across the floor when I lifted his head up again. He threw me off of him and grabbed a hold of my throat, straddling my waist as he choked me.

There was blood coating his lips and his nose was crooked to a painful angle. I pressed my thumbs into his eyes but he moved his head back out of my reach, grip tightening. He didn’t budge no matter how much I hit and kicked him. Eventually, I managed to get the gun from his belt holster, slamming the base into his head. His grip loosened but it took another hit to get him off guard enough to buck him off of me. I swung my legs around quickly, bringing myself into a crouched defensive position, it was then that I clocked the octopus skull tattoo on his neck. I didn’t know what it meant but I’d seen it before, these agents had tried to steal marks from us before, they would kill widows and take the credit for our hits. I swiped his feet out from under him, restraining him and punching again and again, he managed to get a hold of my wig, but it slipped from my head, light strands falling in front of my eyes. I punched him again stopping only when I felt the sharp pain in my side, glancing down to see the agent jamming a large shard from the whiskey glass into my abdomen. Blood poured onto his hand, he grabbed my actual hair this time, rolling over and pressing the side of my head into the marble floor. I steeled myself against the burning pain in my side reaching out for his gun that I’d dropped before, shooting him in the leg without a second thought. He cried out, gripping the wound on this thigh. I kicked him in the chest, attempting to crawl away but he was quick to grab my ankle and drag me back to him. Whoever the hell this guy was he was extremely well trained and evidently wanted me dead. He swiped my push dagger from the floor, swinging at my chest with it but I blocked his attack and used my free arm to twist his wrist before slamming my blocking arm against his once more. The dagger was still clutched in his fist as it impaled the under side of hit jaw, blood pouring from his mouth as I forced his to twist the blade, crying out in agony and exhaustion as I pushed harder, letting his lifeless body fall beside me. My cheeks were wet as I stumbled to the window, double tapping my comm to turn it on as I sat on the sill.

“Задание выполнено.”

Mission complete.

A long black rope descended from the roof then, a silver hook gleaming at the bottom of it. I clipped it onto my belt, sliding from the window and scaling down the building into the snow-covered street.

“Clean up required in room 103.” I muttered into the comm, pulling twice on the rope to signal I was off. The world was blurring around me as I stumbled into the open space behind the hotel. Blood covered my hand as I went, falling to my knees on the rough gravel path that was quickly being swallowed by snow.

I slipped the shirt back over my head with Pietro’s help. “He was Hydra, that agent, I didn’t really know what that meant back then though.”

“No wonder you don’t like being touched.” He had been completely silent for the entirety of my story, there were times when I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. I sighed, nodding gently as I watched the shadows that danced in his eyes.

I reached out for his hand, glancing up at him as my fingers wrapped around his wrist, using the grip to pull him closer. “This is different.” My hand smoothed over his knuckles and I laced my fingers through his, bringing his hand to my cheek. “I want you to touch me, Pietro.”

He exhaled deeply, letting his eyes close as his head canted forward. “Don’t say things like that, Nadia.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t understand the effect it has on me.”

I leaned closer to him. “So, make me understand.” His fingertips dug ever so slightly into my shoulder, brows furrowing, eyes still closed. His free hand landed on my other shoulder, gliding down to hold mine, bringing it to sit over his heart. The quick thuds matched my own beat for beat. I felt his breath ghost over my cheek as he leaned his forehead against mine.

The look he gave me was tender, gentle. “We can go slow. Whatever you want.”

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