xAvengers Part I

Without a Fight (Pietro x Reader)

Words: 988
Warnings: hints to sex, some feels

A/N: if you read my Vent #1 in my Tags Book, you'll understand where this came from.

Everyone thought they were a great couple; they thought so when they saw the two together, holding hands, stealing kisses, laughing at inside jokes, but behind closed doors, the only thing they were really good at was sex. People didn't know that every night they were fighting. It could be over something as mundane as Pietro thinking she was flirting with Bucky.

She would scream. He would throw a vase. She would poke his chest, eyes glaring at him. He would grab her roughly, forcibly pressing his lips to hers, silencing her protests and arguments. Her arms would wrap around his neck pulling him closer to her, his fingers digging into her skin, marking her.

They would forget what the fight was about once the first piece of clothing was discarded on the floor as they made their way towards their bedroom. Both fighting for dominance, neither wanting to give in to the other. She would bite his lower lip as he slam her into the wall, hips grinding against her.

That's how it went.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Day in. Day out.

There was no variety to it.

~~~

"For the umpteenth time, Bucky and I are just friends!" she yelled, her hand in her hair, pulling it slightly as her eyes closed. Pietro walked in on Bucky popping her shoulder back into the socket, but he only saw Bucky's hands rubbing the sore joint making sure nothing else was wrong.

"His hands were groping you," the Sokovian seethed between clenched teeth, he was pacing slowly across the kitchen, a sign he was trying keep himself collected.

"Damn it, Piet. I dislocated my shoulder! He was making sure the tracking was okay," she sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. Sliding down into slumping position, she looked at the man silently fuming. "Can we juat not do this tonight?" she whispered

His blue eyes connected with her e/c ones, his jaw relaxed as his hand ran through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. He leaned against the counter, resting his hands behind him, eyes still fixed on hers. She closed her eyes and her head fell back against the chair. Biting her lip while she desperately searched her brain of something nice to say, anything that would keep them from fighting.

But there wasn't. Not a damn thing she could say that wouldn't send him off.

"I think we should just end this," she sighed, her eyes pricking with fresh tears, but ones with an emotion she hadn't felt in a while. Sadness.

She heard him take a deep breath and she froze, waiting for the outburst to come, the crash of a plate, the thud of his fist to the wall, the growl that emitted in the back of his throat. But none of it came. Instead, she heard him move, his stocking feet shuffled across the floor towards her direction and she braced herself out of habit, expecting a rough kiss or his fingers digging into her skin.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his hand on her cheek, the other on her thigh. She willed herself to open her eyes and saw Pietro kneeling at her feet, his eyes full of remorse, a sad smile played on his lips.

"If that is what you want, láska," he whispered, his thumb grazed her cheekbone as his hand squeezed her thigh. She leaned into his hand, her eyes focused on the collar of his blue-gray shirt, afraid to look him in the eye.

"Piet," she said, hoping to sound stable, but her voice quivered with each word she formed, "I love you, but I just can't do this anymore."

He nodded, moving his hand from her thigh to cup her face with both. He forced her head to move so her eyes were looking at his and they showed her what she feared most. Glassy eyes that were showing hurt. "I understand," he answered and kissed her gently on her forehead. "Give me a few and I'll be out."

He moved to get up and she grabbed his hand, stopping him by her side. Without a word, she stood up . She turned him to face her and stretched up into her toes, kissing him sweetly. When she moved to pull away, he carded his hands through her haid, pulling her closer to him, returning the kiss. It was unlike all the other kisses they've shared. It was slow, yet passionate, not desperate and sloppy.

When he pulled away, her head was spinning, her eyes still closed, bottom lip between her teeth. "Piet," she started but the words wouldn't form. She wanted to tell him to stay and that they could figure it all out, make them work.

He stepped away from her and tugged her hand as he made his way to their bedroom not saying a word until they were inside and the door was closed. She never felt so out of place in that room until now. Pietro stepped in front of her, his hands resting on her shoulders then slowly slid down her arms, grabbing her hands when his fingers reached hers. Taking a deep breath, he leaned down and captured her lips in another soft kiss, his hands squeezing hers as if he was on an ledge clinging for his life.

"Pietro," she muttered against his lips, but to she hushed his his hand to the small of her back and his lips slowly peppered kisses on her jaw.

"Please," he whispered, "if this is our last night together, can we do this without a fight?" He pulled back to look at her.

Her throat felt tight and tears threatened to fall. She wanted to tell him that she didn't want him to go; that she wanted to work it out. To stay with him. But no words came and all she could do was nod.