Holding onto Hope (mlb/marvel crossover sequel)

8

"You?" He asks, reaching for my hand. I pull it away, and just shake my head. "I-I-I have t-to go." I manage to stutter out, and Loki takes my arm. We walk back to the apartment, well more like he drags me back, and I sit down on the couch. The sky gets cloudy again, but I just shake while sitting on my couch. The thunder outside seems to shake me out of it, and I just begin to bawl my eyes out.

Loki sits next to me, his arms wrapped around my shaking shoulders, and it is raining harder than I think it ever has before in Paris. "Shh," Loki whispers, gently pulling me into his chest instead of me just sitting by him. My phone goes off, and I see that it's an unknown number.

Probably Adrien's.

I calm down a little bit, but stay there, circled in Loki's arms. A lot of people would feel uncomfortable here, in (what used to be a) villain's arms, but all I feel is safe. Like the little girl I used to be.

I open up a few portals, and it's to almost all of the avengers. Steve, Natasha, Thor, Bruce, Steven, Wanda, Clint, Scott, T'Challa, Peter, and finally my dad, Tony.

Peter comes and sits down next to me, and Loki hands me off to him. But when I'm in Peter's arms (when I typed in Peter one of the suggested words on my phone's keyboard was Peternette haha) something is different. I feel like I need to comfort him, and he doesn't need to comfort me.

The sky clears outside, now that I am surrounded by a lot of the people who I consider my family, and it stays silent. "It wasn't him." I finally whisper out, and Peter squeezes my shoulders in reassurance.

It feels wrong. Like I shouldn't be in his arms, but someone else's.

"It's okay." Peter whispers, even though everyone hears it. Everyone else gives their condolences, and their advice. "Stick to the plan." Is what the final answer was, and I nod. I open up all the portals again, giving everyone a goodbye hug.

I stand in front of Peter, and he gives me a huge hug.

"It's okay. This is just a rough patch. We'll get through this like how we get through everyone else. One step at a time. Think about the future. In a few years, we'll be in our own house, married, maybe even have a kid, or one on the way. Just get through this hard patch, then we'll be okay."

This was the first time that we ever talked about -or even mentioned- the future, and I think it over. What he described sounds amazing, and I can picture it all.

We would get married in a field full of flowers, and only have our close friends and family. It wouldn't be a huge wedding. My dress would be simple, and not even in the slightest flashy. A piece of cotton fitted to my body with simple lace details.

My hair would be down in loose waves, most likely from a braid. The top half of my hair would be braided into a crown, with the wild flowers in the field that also make up my bouquet woven in with the crown. My shoes would be flats, the ones with the strap around the ankle so they don't fall off.

And Peter would be the most handsome groom ever. He would wear light brown dress pants, with a matching white cotton button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up, the top two buttons not done up. I imagine that his hair would be longer, and he would let the natural curl show instead of styling it so then it doesn't.

We would get married, and go on a honeymoon to some exotic place, probably one of my dad's many private islands, and stay there for about a month. We would fall so hard for each other, and I don't think that that love would ever fade.

A few years after that, when we are probably around 26-27, we would want to have a child. A baby. And we would probably want more after the first perfect, amazing cute baby with big bluebell eyes and curly brown hair like his father. Our son would need a little sister, and she would have her father's eyes and my hair.

We would age, grow old, and be so in love that it doesn't even matter what happens. Tony would be an amazing grandpa, and would love my child unconditionally. I watch in my mind's eye as Peter and I raise our children, and grow old together. The wrinkles bury deep into our skin, but it doesn't matter, because it's us. And we are together. I can see that life so clearly, but then I remember something.

I can't have children.

Even if I were to not be the true guardian and merged with the miracle box, I still wouldn't be able to, considering that Felix forcefully took out my uterus, making it impossible for me to even think about having a child.

My mind goes back to when we would want kids, but be unable to have our own. It would probably lead to a lot of arguments about adoption, and I watch as the future I imagined crumbles into a million pieces. I can see the divorce papers, the signatures, and us unable to even look at each other, considering that I can not and will never be able to give Peter what he wants.

On top of all of that, I don't age. He would grow old, and I would stay perfectly preserved in this body. I have forever in front of me. Peter has -at most- probably about 80. If he lives to be over 100. This crushing feeling takes over, and I can see that this is what felt wrong. My mind went to the future, and I knew before I was even aware, that Peter and I can't even think about having a future together.

I go back into the present, and know exactly how Peter is going to react to what I am about to say. "That sounds amazing, except for the kid part." He pulls away from the hug, and a confused look crosses his face.

"What do you mean? You love kids. Besides, you are so extremely in love with Morgan, how can you not want one of your own?"

"The world is so so so messed up, and I can't imagine having a child come into it. Besides, I can't have kids so-" I get cut off, and Peter says, "You can't have kids?!?" Rather loud. "Felix took my uterus out. Besides, I'm going to stay like this forever, and you're going to grow old. We have different cards dealt to us, but that's okay. Can't we just be happy now and deal with the other stuff later?"

Peter looks extremely hurt, and whispers, "I'm not sure if I want that. Please, let me go home." I want to protest, but I know that nothing I could say would help, and he needs a minute to think. I don't argue with his request, and open up a portal to his bedroom. "I'll talk to you soon. Just let me think. Bye." He says, stepping in and I close the portal.

Loki wraps his arms around me, and it takes almost everything in me to not cry again.