Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
AN: As a rabid Kietro shipper, the episode "Stuff of Villains" made me so exceedingly happy that I just had to write a fic based on it. I intentionally went for a little vagueness and sloppiness in the narration because it seemed to fit the mood of the piece, and I hope it works. Please review! And remember, Kietro is love.
Who We Are
I. Rescue
For others, it would have happened in the blink of an eye, but Pietro Maximoff lives and thinks at the speed of light, and is therefore able to clearly witness each event as it unfolds.
The armored van slides off the cliff, its door handle still clutched in Fred Dukes' large hands as he staggers backward.
"Blob!" Pietro cries, pummeling the glass with his fists, scared shitless and at the same time vaguely irritated that the fat idiot can't even rescue him properly. He can't die like this. It's too stupid, too soon---
And suddenly she is there, falling on top of him, small hands grabbing his waist, and he catches a whiff of strawberry-scented shampoo before registering the alien sensation of his atoms passing through metal…
Now he's hanging off the edge of the precipice, heart racing, watching the van plummet to what should have been his imminent demise. His gaze shifts--- to the pale skin and large blue eyes and dark brown hair of the girl Lance once left them for--- and every nerve in his body is screaming at him to get the hell out of here, but all the same he wonders if he should help her climb back up.
She can phase through solid objects, you moron, she can take care of herself.
Pissed that he's allowed himself to care and forgotten the most basic rule of survival--- save yourself first--- he makes some kind of flippant remark, watches those eyes of hers widen in anger and surprise--- that's right, this doesn't change anything, I'm still the bad guy--- and then speeds off into the night.
II. Reason
"Why'd you do it?"
Kitty Pryde blinks at what had been empty space in front of her until half a second ago. "Huh?"
"Don't play games," he snaps, silver hair gleaming in the light of the afternoon sun bearing down on the sidewalk. "You know what I'm talking about. Last time. You could've just let me fall. No, you should have. Why didn't you?"
She honestly has no idea how to answer him. It's what she's taught, the point that's hammered into her head and driven home in every lecture and training session. It's against her nature to let someone die.
Pietro Maximoff wouldn't understand that, though. He'd laugh and call her weak.
"Well?" he demands. "C'mon, I don't have all day."
Even when he's standing still like that, arms crossed in front of his chest, he vibrates with restless internal energy, lean muscles tensed and coiled as if ready to bolt at any given moment.
And suddenly it's important to her that she makes him understand.
She lifts her chin, looks him squarely in the eye, and says in a voice soft yet determined, steel encased in silk, "Because I'm not you."
She braces herself for the inevitable cruel retort, but it doesn't come. Instead, she blinks again, and he is gone.
III. Regret
"What?" he sneers, weeks later. "You thought I'd change just because you did me a favor? Well, guess what, that's not my style. This is who I am, Pretty Kitty."
And the funny thing is that she really is pretty, and he knows that if he leans in a little closer he can smell her strawberry shampoo…
He doesn't get the chance. Never even sparing a glance in his direction, she walks away.
IV. Redemption
It's raining in New York, and someone holds an umbrella over Kitty's head. She brushes strands of wet hair out of her eyes and looks up.
He's taller, filled out a bit more, and his hair is longer, but it's still the same smirk and the years melt away and it's high school all over again.
"Fancy meeting you here, Shadowcat."
Her lips curve into a teasing smile. "Heard you're one of the good guys now."
He scowls. "You don't have to rub it in."
She giggles, the sound barely audible over the rain and the noises of the city.