Cornelia Street - Avengers

Nowhere To Hide

"I had to fight like hell, and fighting like hell made me what I am."

Compound, 2017

(The Last Time Taylor Swift)

...

Duck.

Punch.

Kick.

Repeat.

"Focus. An easy way to get yourself killed on that field even quicker than you already will, is losing focus during the fight," Pietro reprimanded, his eyes darkening as they stared her down. "Eyes on me. You don't falter, understand?"

Bethany gritted her teeth, fighting the urge not to roll her eyes at the eldest Maximoff's persistent lecturing. "Yeah. It's like the first thing Squad 88 taught us." Throwing out another punch which he dodged effortlessly, she imagined landing it squarely on Pietro's smug face, wiping that smirk off his mouth as he grabbed her fist in his hand.

He pulled her towards him, lowering his voice as his face hovered inches from hers. "If you put half as much effort into your training as you did your sarcasm, maybe you wouldn't be such an easy target," he shot back, midnight eyes sparkling.

Bethany shot him a withering glare. "And maybe if you weren't such an insufferable know-it-all, I wouldn't have to be so sarcastic."

Her anger at Pietro ran deeper than their daily sparring sessions. She couldn't forget how he had iced her out after she helped Tony's daughter all those months ago. 

His abrupt withdrawal left her feeling abandoned and betrayed, forcing her to fend for herself when she needed support the most. The memory of those cold, dismissive days gnawed at her, adding a raw edge to every punch and kick she directed at him.

The incident with Lucia had been a turning point, Bethany had risked everything to protect her, believing it was the right thing to do. And it was. Pietro's reaction, however, was anything but supportive. He had shut her out, his demeanour turning colder than she thought possible, refusing to acknowledge her efforts or even discuss the matter.

His indifference stung, leaving her to deal with the fallout in a foreign country, alone. Her frustration boiled over, fuelling her movements as they continued to train, each jab and kick filled with raw brute force, an energy that only seemed to intensify in Pietro's presence. 

It wasn't just the physical training that made her come back every morning; it was the unresolved anger, the need to prove herself, to make him see that she wasn't as disposable as he had made her feel.

If she didn't hate him as much as she did, she might have enjoyed this banter they both participated in every morning, and yet she kept coming back again and again. Every morning without fail.

A formula not even she could understand. She let her frustration fuel her movements as they continued to train, each jab and kick filled with raw brute force, an energy that only seemed to intensify in Pietro's presence. Her partner, for his part, matched her intensity without fail.

"Come on, Principessa, show me what you've got," he taunted, his hands motioning her closer as he dropped into a squat, eyeing her down. His hands clenched into fists in front of him, eyes watching her, almost daring her to edge closer. To push between the boundaries of what they had been teetering on for years. 

But he was fooling himself if he thought she would be the one to initiate. Bethany clenched her jaw, focus sharpening as she launched into a flurry of kicks and punches, the spongey mat underneath her serving as a good boost.