✁𝙏𝙤𝙢 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥

If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you hated Peter Parker.

Your back landed against the training room floor for what seemed like the millionth time, dull pain flooding through your limbs. You sighed, groaning as you stumbled to your feet. Natasha stood a few feet away, not looking tired at all, despite the fact that you had been sparring for over an hour.

"It's okay, Y/n, you'll get it soon," she said, her voice neutral but still encouraging. "You just need more practice."

"Practice?" a voice from behind you scoffed. "Like that's been making her any better. She's still just as hopeless as she was when first started." You whipped your head around, your eyes meeting Peter's annoyingly warm brown ones. You glared at him and he raised one eyebrow, clearly amused at your anger.

"Peter," Nat started before you could say anything. "She only started training a few weeks ago. Y/n has made big improvements. Not all of us have super strength, you know." She gave Peter a knowing once-over, making you giggle. Nat winked at you. "I think that's enough for today, Y/n." She walked toward you, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Don't ever let a man discourage you," she said with another wink, patting your shoulder twice before gracefully exiting the training room. You let out another soft laugh, stretching your sore arms above your head. You tensed up when you felt two hands grab ahold of your wrists, spinning around to find your face inches from Peter's.

"What do you think you're doing?" you hissed, attempting to remove your wrists from his grasp, but he only held them tighter. His grip wasn't painful, but you felt he was up to something sinister. His eyes looked down into yours mischievously. You suddenly realized the somewhat intimate position he held you in and felt your face warm slightly. Peter did not seem to realize or care, and moved your arms further back behind your head, forcing your body closer to his.

"If you want to actually improve, you have to challenge yourself," he said, his face growing serious. "You need someone who's not afraid to push you to your limits." You rolled your eyes.

"And let me guess, that person to 'push me to my limits' would be you?" You scoffed. "Thanks, but no thanks Parker." He released your wrists and your arms dropped back down to your sides, your shoulders feeling tight as ever. Peter shifted his weight to one side, crossing his arms, his face unreadable.

"I'm not saying Nat isn't doing a good job. Your progress just isn't fast enough." He shrugged, turning around to walk away. You felt anger begin to heat up your chest, tension winding your body up like a coil. Whatever blush remained from your proximity to Peter was long gone, replaced by intense hatred. He did this all the time, making rude or snarky comments about whatever you did. Nothing you ever did was good enough, apparently, and you wanted nothing more than to kick his ass for making your life a living hell. You raced after him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.

"What is your problem, Parker? Who do you think you are to make judgments about me and my progress?" You felt your chest rise and fall, your heart rate elevated. By contrast, Peter stared at you lazily, leaning against a rack of weights, his expression calm, almost amused. His lack of reaction only seemed to add fuel to your fire. "You know nothing about what it's like to have to work for something. You know nothing about my experiences or me, so just leave me alone." You glared at him for good measure. The vague amusement vanished from his face, so you assumed you had struck a nerve. He looked like he wanted to say something in response but changed his mind, only shaking his head slightly.

"You're right, Y/n," he said, his tone completely neutral. "I don't know anything about you. And I don't care." You stepped back, his words like a knife to your chest. He didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he clearly just stated that he didn't care. "But if you ever want a real challenge while training, you know where to find me." With that, he walked out of the training room, his feet steady and pace normal, leaving you alone. You, on the other hand, were trembling slightly and out of breath. Sinking to the floor, you started stretching your stiff and tired limbs out, hoping to slow the race of your heart and steady the shakiness in your hands. Wrapping your hands around your left foot, your mind drifted back to Peter's words. "I don't know anything about you. And I don't care." You knew he disliked you, that part was mutual, but for some reason his words still cut a little too deep for your liking. Exhaling, you slowly got to your feet and left the training room, the gray expanse feeling a lot bigger than it had previously.