Slightly Better Than Twinkies - Peter Maximoff

3. Pawn to A4

Word Count: guys I got carried away again 7700 exactly

Warnings: angst, slow burn, anger and frustration on the reader end, and too many words

It was a couple days later and you were sore beyond belief. Your back had a large bandaid on it as well as your bicep and both of your wrists to cover up the whip lashes, and the bruises on your neck were still predominantly there.

After Peter had carried you out of the Danger Room and into the Infirmary you had to deal with the Professor apologizing on the program somehow overreacting or something, which then led to you getting much more injured than should be allowed. You waved it off, stating that if anything it just made it more believable and was probably better for your training.

You were shaken up from the experience, there's no doubt about it, but you were okay. You passed with seven minutes and thirty-four seconds to spare, which means you would be able to take care of yourself (for the most part), and you were proud of yourself.

You could tell that Peter wasn't as forgiving about it as you were since you could see him lightly trace over your bruises and bandaids with his eyes and frown, but you would just smile and tell him it was okay. He would nod and put on a half assed smile that obviously meant it was not okay, but chose not to say anything and move on.

So that's what you were trying to do. Move on.

It was time for your weekly facetime with Kara, and you made sure to wear a thick turtleneck with long sleeves to cover up the bruises and bandaids. You didn't want her to freak out over the stuff you did, so you just kind of played off your training as boring. You also didn't want her to end up accidentally telling Tony, and then he comes over and starts this whole parade about how you need to stay safe and... turtlenecks were cute, anyway.

"Hi, Y/N!" Kara smiled as she sat down on her bed and held the phone close to her face so you could see every pore.

You wiggled your eyebrows and fingers, giggling as you responded, "Hey Karamel."

"Whaaaat's up?"

"Not much," you sighed, laying down on your stomach on your bed and propping your phone up against a pillow. "It's the Professor's birthday in a few days and I have to figure out a way to get him a present without him reading my mind and finding out what it is."

This was a problem you ran into every year, with both the Professor and Jean, and you still hadn't figured out a way to get them something without them knowing. How were you supposed to give them something without knowing what it was yourself?

Kara shrugged and twirled a piece of her hair in her free hand. "I've got an idea: Don't get him anything."

You rolled your eyes. "Who do you think I am, the Grinch?" This man had been practically raising you since you were eight years old, the least you could do (in your eyes) was get him a birthday present.

"Alternatively: Just go to the store, close your eyes, and randomly buy something, so then even if he reads your mind, he wouldn't know! Because you don't know!"

You had thought of that. And then thought of a million reasons why that plan really wouldn't work. "And how do you suggest I walk out of the store? And come home? And wrap the present?"

Kara squinted her eyes as if it was obvious. "With your legs and hands?"

"...Blind."

"Hey," she scolded, flipping some of her hair behind her shoulder. "There are people that do it. If blind people can do it, so can you!" You had noticed that her hair was growing a little; it went just past her shoulders now as opposed to the shoulder length when you last visited.