Just Kids | Peter Parker

27 | Battle Scars

PETER

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"You're back," [y/n] frowned, "why?"

I had arranged to get her a new set of clothes, since her combat gear looked incredibly uncomfortable, but I didn't realize they had given her...that.

I had only seen her in baggy outfits, like my hand-me-down hoodies and sweats, but seeing her in shorts and a sleeveless shirt was different. I felt a little invasive by looking at her like that.

"I see you got the change of clothes," I said, clearing my throat and looking away.

"I'd hardly call these clothes."

"Why?"

"Bare knees and elbows aren't suitable for fighting," she hissed.

Don't get me wrong, the clothes weren't scandalous or anything, I just hadn't seen her show any basic skin other than her ankles, neck, and face. She looked pretty. And cool. Really cool.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone," she said, narrowing her eyes, "so why are you here?"

"Because friends visit each other."

"I'm not your friend."

"Then what am I to you?"

She pressed her forehead up to the glass, her eyes narrowed into slits, "you're nothing."

To be completely honest, it hurt to hear her say that. Even though I knew I wasn't anything to her real self, she still said the words. Maybe her relationship with me wasn't strong enough to fight for remembrance. Oh.

"You wouldn't waste your time talking to nothing," I sighed, "would you?"

She rolled her eyes, looking me up and down with analysis. Once she seemed to have made her mind up on something, she shrugged.

"Fine," she said, "then you're a target."

"What kind of target?"

"The kind I have to get rid of."

I tilted my head, "I thought you didn't want to kill me."

"I can still fight you."

What I said next would either make or break the progress I was having with her. Sure, it didn't seem like much, but it was a lot to me. Yesterday, she turned her back on me, and refused to talk. She seemed present in this conversation, even though it seemed like she wanted to kill me.

"Then do it," I grinned, "fight me."

Signaling to the guards behind me, I watched as they surrounded the glass box, cracking it open for me to enter. I saw her eyes flicker at the open door, but that quickly disappeared when she saw the twenty-plus guards.

Stepping into the glass box, I felt like I was entering a thin bubble. One that could break with the slightest misstep.

Putting up my fists, I nodded my head, "I'm going to stay here, until you realize I'm not going to give up."

"What?" She said, putting hers up in response, "give up fighting?"

"No, give up on you."

Without another word, I took a step towards her, analyzing her next move. A tingle on the left side of my brain let me know she was about to swing there. Deflecting her punch, I jabbed my own fist into her stomach.

Gosh, I hated hurting her.

"How the hell?" she stammered, stumbling back.

Before I could respond, she lunged towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She flipped me onto my back, raising her elbow above my stomach. Before she could bring it down, I rolled out of the way, sweeping my leg under her ankles.

She fell to the ground, so I seized my chance, and held her down. I didn't really plan it, but somehow I was hovering over her.

"I thought you wanted to fight me," I grinned, "that was way too easy."

"Are you calling me easy?"

"Give me an actual challenge, and I'll take it back."

Pushing me off, she lifted herself onto her feet, "another round."

"You sure?"

"Shut up and fight."

This time, she initiated the first attack. somersaulting onto the ground, she foot-stepped onto the side of the glass wall and rammed me into the ground. I let out a groan in pain, but managed to wrap my arm around her neck and toss her off to the side.

She must have bit her lip during that, because she wiped blood off of her face with the back of her hand.

Which... was kind of hot.

Jeez, Peter, you're supposed to be fighting her, not swooning over her. seeing that I was distracted, she landed a punch into my shoulder, and I went toppling back. But she didn't realize I knew her next move. 

When she lunged towards me, I ducked and grabbed her wrists, pinning them down to the ground.

"You lost again," I smiled, "I sense a reoccurring theme."

"Shut up, and let's go again."

From there, the same thing happened over and over again. We'd go all out with hand-to-hand, but I'd always win. I guess I had the upper hand with my spidey-senses.

For what felt like the tenth time, I pressed my forearm against her chest, a smirk on my face.

"You lost again," I stated, standing up and dusting off my hands.

She narrowed her eyes, "how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Know my every move?"

I nodded my head, wiping a few beads of sweat off of my face with the back of my hand, "I fought you once before."

"Did I win?"

I smiled, my mind flashing back to that day in the airport. The first time I met her. I remembered everything about that moment, from the second I took her mask off, to the snarky comments she yelled.

Shaking my head, I walked towards the door.

"You'll have to remember that for yourself," I said, "goodnight, [y/n]."