Quiver | Pietro Maximoff ✔

Chapter Twelve

~Eliza's POV~

I couldn't sleep.

It was a pain, quite literally, but I tossed and turned, and no comfort was found. My eyes stung with fatigue, yet my body decided it was itching for a run.

My back longed to be stretched, but it was the middle of the night and I was warm; curled underneath the blankets on my bed.

I tried to convince myself to just close my eyes, hoping I could ignore the itching, but then my bladder decided it was full. I rolled onto my side, and the familiar need to run to the bathroom shot through my insides.

I groaned, squeezed my eyes shut, and trailed to the en-suite.

My eyes had bags bigger than the ones stashed in my wardrobe, matching a grey pallor that made me look ancient. I rubbed at them tiredly, now beginning to feel my body slowly beg for its bed, and I trudged in the direction of the pillows and throws scattered on my bed in the darkness of my room.

And then I heard it. A soft whimper, like a child's groan of pain.

I wrapped my body more securely in the fluffy dressing gown I'd pulled on after I'd left the comfy space in my bed, and hovered by my door. I heard it again, but no other noise sounded through the wood.

I began worrying that someone had broken in, but I had to remind myself that I was living with the literal Avengers. Tony Stark would be more than prepared for an intruder, especially in the dead of night.

I creaked my door open, cringing slightly at the noise, but was met with everybody's doors pulled shut. Several warm lights cast soft shadows along the wall, and I chewed my lip. Maybe I'd imagined the strange noise.

But when I went to shut my door, I heard it again.

A distant whimpering of pain.

I tiptoed along the edge of the hall, pressing my ears to the doors for a few seconds at a time, waiting to hear the noise. I had reached the end of the hall, and turned to walk back the way I came, when it sounded - a little louder this time.

And then I realised which door was hiding the noise.

Pietro.

I ran on the toes of my feet, dancing lightly from one foot to the other when I finally reached his door. I hesitantly held my closed fist up, and considered knocking, but I changed my mind. I didn't want to wake everybody else up if he was sleeping.

Maybe it was just a snore?

I pushed the door open slowly, and slipped through the small gap I created before shutting it behind me. His body lay under a dark duvet, his grey-blonde hair stuck in wild angles away from his face. His eyes were shut, and as I crept closer I saw his face was contorted in a painful wince.

The light was spilling though the curtain he'd left open, and a light summers shower was hitting the window. My eyes accustomed to the gloom, when he rocked his head back, and the noise left his lips.

It was louder now I was in the room, and I understood what the boys had said when they'd told me the rooms were semi-soundproof.

His hand clenched around a blanket, his nails tearing feverishly at it as his eyes squeezed shut.

"Pietro?" I whispered, leaning forward to tap his arm.

He froze, but the whimper turned into a sob, and soon his whole body was shaking.

"Pietro?" I gently sat on the edge of the bed, wary that he was thrashing slightly in his sleep.

He mumbled, and shook his head, his cries becoming more audible as his shoulders stopped heaving quite so heavily.