A continuation from the previous chapter. The final chapter- Enjoy!

[[(Prompt: Comforting Pietro after an anxiety attack; Pietro being by your side through difficult times)]]

4. Skinny Love [[Birdy]]

The man grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back and thrusting the needle straight into her neck. Tes screamed, hands scrabbling fiercely at the firm grip on her hair, her nails clawing deeply into flesh as the needle continued to sink deeper and deeper into her skin. Suddenly, she was thrown aside, the scientist cursing, his hands running with blood from the deep cuts she'd gouged into pink skin running red. Gripping her neck tightly, Tes dragged herself backwards, weak sobs lost to deaf ears falling hopeless from cracked lips as she pulled herself away painstakingly slowly, away, away- anywhere but where the man was. He was muttering now, holding the vial incased with her blood up to the light as he cursed the "filthy mutant abominations" to the deepest pit of hell. Trembling, Tesla scooted backwards, taking refuge beneath the cold metal table that housed syringes, scalpels and pills that never failed to make her deliriously sick for days- instruments of torture used against her time and time again. Huddling underneath the table, Tes drew her knees to her chest, a quivering hand covered in her own blood coming to her lips in a pitiful attempt to muffle her ragged breathing. A pair of legs paced past the table, causing her to freeze in terror. She was safe here, he couldn't see her, they couldn't get her. As long as she remained beneath the table, she was safe.

A yell, so full of agony it caused Tesla's blood to frost- running sluggish through her veins- filled the air then, directly behind her. Burying her head beneath her arms, Tesla whimpered. The voice sounded so familiar. Why did it sound so familiar? She was the only mutant in the facility that she was aware of, she had been since they'd brought her there, so- so- A groan, ragged and full of spasming pain, drew Tesla's head up so fast she clapped it on the metal above her. Slowly, rust on rust, like cogs that hadn't been oiled in a millennia, her head turned, her body rotating so that she could see just who it was that the scientists had captured this time. Who their knew plaything was. Maybe they'll leave me alone now. A whisper of relief coursed through her weary limbs, so faint, so minuscule, yet it sickened her all the same. She wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone, even with the promise of a respite from her torture dangling so temptingly before her.

On the operating table their was a body, a boy- about her age it looked like- strapped down so tightly he could barely move a fingersbreadth in his restraints. Poised over him, the scientist held in his right hand a scalpel, the light strapped to his forehead blinding even from where Tes was hidden. The man's arm moved then, the knife disappearing. The boy screamed again, his back arching in pure agony an inch off the table as the scream tapered out to another moan. A weak gasp escaped his lips. Tes felt a small sob grate painfully against the back of her throat as her hands shot up to cover her ears. Her eyes found the bloodstained front of the scientist's lab coat before they squeezed tightly shut. Nonononono, she would not watch this, could not- nononono she couldn't do this, she couldn't bare witness to this boy being experimented on, to being tortured.

"Peter," Tes whimpered, willing her minds-eye to draw up the image of her boyfriend, of dark, mischievous eyes and a warm grin pocketed by endearing dimples. Silvery hair that clung to his face in the rain and stood straight up when he ran, or at least according to what he'd told her ages ago... Yes, Peter, he always saved her; his memory, his face, the pang of love that resounded in her heart whenever she dredged his memory up from what little part of her mind still bore the light of happier times. "Peter," she whimpered again as the boy cried out and the scientist hissed for him to 'shut up'. She needed him. She needed him. She needed him now.

"Tes?"

His voice was weak, full of a sickening pain that caused her mouth to run dry. It was Peter's voice. But how...? And then she realized.

"No!" Tes screamed, ripping herself from under the table without a second thought and tearing towards the operation table. The man was cutting into Peter again, another sample for his collection, another thing to be examined and tested and researched. Peter's head was turned towards hers, the trail of fallen tears shimmering on his pale cheeks beginning to dry as a glazed look took hold of his eyes.

"No!" She screamed again, reaching his head just as gloved hands grabbed her from behind. "Nonono! Peter! Peter wake up! Peter look at me! Please- Peter please!" Tes' hands were on Peter's body, his shoulders, his cheeks, her eyes sweeping over the mangled, bloody mess that had become of him. "Look what they've- Oh my God- What have they done to you?" She was being pulled away, faceless bodies swarming her, all in white lab coats splashed with blood. His blood. Their blood. Her hands were sticky. They were covered in the crimson liquid. Her eyes never left Peter's vacant ones. A strangled cry escaped her lips. He was dead. He was dead. They'd killed him. She'd hidden beneath a table while they'd killed him. Tes couldn't break free of their hold on her. Throwing back her head, she screamed.

"Peter!"

~*~Quicksilver~*~

"No!" Tes rocketed upwards, eyes roving wildly around the dark room before landing on the motionless form splayed out beside her. Sweat trickled down her sticky skin, rolling like shards of melting ice from the nape of her neck down her spine as she sat, gasping like a dewatered fish in the dimness of pre-dawn light. Peering closer frantically, Tes felt the breath practically fly from her lungs at the sight of Peter, hair fanned chaotically about his head and jaw slack as he slept.

A dream. It had just been a dream.

Running a shaking hand over her sweat-slicked brow, Tes shoved the covers aside with a huff, slipping quietly from the bed and padding lightly across the hardwood floor to the chest of drawers. Showering was out of the question; the last thing she wanted to do was risk waking Peter up, especially since the last time he'd actually slept past dawn was seven months ago in July. Grabbing the first thing she saw, Tes undressed quickly, slipping Peter's shirt over her head reluctantly before reaching for her bra. Like a tick the nightmare still clung to her, reluctant to dissipate, and the familiarity of Peter's scent called to her like a songbird to the rising sun- she needed all the comfort she could get at the moment. It was too bad the shirt was too large for her to wear for anything other than sleep. Pulling on a nondescript pair of pants, Tes hesitated before opening another drawer and working Peter's letterman jacket from it's depths as quietly as she could, slinging it over her shoulders like a shield against the world.

Outside, the orange hues of sunrise were beginning to peak their way over the horizon, and absently Tes moved to the large window, drawing the curtains closer together so that only a fragmented tint of daylight whispered into the room. Turning, she circled around the bed to Peter's side, reaching for the alarm clock that ticked away upon the bedside table. A moment of tinkering later, Tes quietly replaced the ticking clock, the alarm disabled. Beside her, Peter sighed in his sleep, rolling so that he was facing her. Tes held her breath, afraid he'd wake up, but all the silver haired boy did was frown, his serene expression marred by the grimace she'd so often seen now upon his face. Sinking down slowly, Tes brushed aside a strand of hair that lay listless across his face, her lips caressing his cheek gently. It had been too long, far too long since he'd gotten a full night of sleep, and it showed in the purple half moon bruises under his eyes, the way his lips seemed to take forever to upturn into a dimpled smile, how chillingly quiet he'd become... Even his speed had been affected. Peter didn't think she noticed, and Tes was glad he didn't suspect her of knowing how much the past six months had haunted him. Running a hand through hair cropped shorter than she'd ever worn it, Tes let her fingers drag down her face, trying to ignore the way her head was beginning to pound like an unruly toddler throwing a tantrum. Reluctantly she left Peter's side, grabbing her bag and wincing when the door squeaked as she dragged it open slowly. With a final glance about the dark, quiet room, Tes turned, the door shutting behind her with a soft snick.

Her watch read six thirty-one. Great. With a groan Tes began the dark, stumbling walk down the second floor's west wing hallway, well aware that if anyone else were awake at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, they sure as hell weren't making a lot of noise about it. A chill nibbled at the back of her exposed neck as Tes reached the stairs, and unconsciously she reached upwards, about to swipe her hair like a curtain down around her creamy white skin. All her fingers brushed was air. And just like that, the memories that had been lurking like a cresting wave behind average swells in her subconscious spilled over the dams she'd been erecting for months- ever since she'd woken up in the hospital at the end of August, with an IV stuck in her arm and Peter's hand in hers. Her legs wobbled dangerously, and with a hand flying up to cover trembling lips Tes sunk down, finding the banister of the staircase and leaning against it as the deluge of recollected cognizance opened its gaping mouth wide and engulfed her.

She'd decided to have her hair cut two weeks after she'd returned to the mansion. Tesla had felt ridiculous when tears had slipped from the corners of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as Peter brought the scissors up to her dull, patchy locks. Trask's scientists had damaged it beyond repair, leaving it brittle and missing in several places where they'd shaved her head to take skin samples. When Peter had noticed her tears, the scissors had been set down and Tes pulled into his arms so fast that her reaction was momentarily lost. Finally, her arms had found their way around Peter's chest, and she had clung to him, burying her tear streaked face into the crook of his neck- embarrassed and scared and confused- for what had seemed like forever. Peter had held her just as tightly, whispering softly into her ear things that for the life of her Tes could not recall. He'd eventually made her laugh when he'd told her that his mother had always made him cut his younger sister's hair, and that once she'd been so fidgety that he'd accidentally chopped off several inches- but the sound was fragile, a hollow shell, void of the happiness that had always filled it.

That first night back from the hospital, Tes had told her mother that she wanted to go to Xavier's School. Because how could her mother understand? How could anyone from her old life possibly understand what she'd gone through, what she still had to go through every endless day of her life. To be a mutant. To be a victim of humanity's cruelness. And so a few days later she found herself being helped into the mansion by Logan. It had been a weekend, so most of the other students were either sleeping or at home with their families. Hobbling around on a single leg, her other bound tightly in a cast, Tes could only watch as Hank hustled up and down the stairs with bag after bag while Peter hovered at her side and the Professor spoke quietly with another one of the teachers. Tes had told Hank as soon as he'd reached for one of her suitcases to take them up to Peter's room. He had nodded with a quick, unsure smile. No one since had ever questioned their shared board situation, not even Charles. It was a way to cope, and Tes suspected that the Professor understood more than anyone her need for the silver haired boy- her rescuer- in the dark hours of the night. Back then Tes had been fragile, unstable. She'd had more bandages covering her skin than skin, and the memory of her appearance, her helplessness, still haunted her. She never wanted to feel that way again. And always Peter by her side. Helping her when she needed a hand, holding her when she needed to be held. He'd saved her, in more ways than one.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the half hour with a low, solemn gong of it's bell, and resolutely Tes climbed to her feet, switching her direction from heading down to, instead, heading up. For as long as he'd been a resident at the school, the biochemist had always roomed on the top floor of the mansion. Before, when her leg had still been cocooned in the ugly white of the cast, Beast had made it a top priority to visit Tes constantly, keeping her company when Peter was away or the Professor couldn't see her for one of their daily therapy sessions. In a way, Tes supposed, they had become very good friends. Best friends- all through her recovery at the hands of Trask. Even Peter had managed to get on better terms with the lanky scientist. Tes felt a small smile brighten her features at the memory of the two boys coloring her cast with a rainbow of markers- with Peter's assistance, it had only taken ten minutes.

Now, as she made her way up the stairs to his room, Tes felt an overwhelming pang of gratitude for the quirky scientist. No matter how socially awkward he liked to dub himself as, Hank was an excellent listener, and always managed to make her laugh when she needed it most, it seemed- the only other person who could do that was Peter. With an hour and a half until their shared chemistry class (of which Hank was the teacher), Tesla could only hope that he was awake as she rapped on the door to his room softly. It opened almost immediately.

"Hey Tes," Hank smiled. He looked like he'd been up for hours. Tesla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course.

"Hey Beastie," Tes murmured. Her voice cracked. She winced, biting her lip. The door swung open wider then, Hank stepping to the side.

"Well you'd better come in, we might as well make a party out of our insomnia."

Tes snorted and stepped across the door's threshold.

Two hours later, halfway through a particularly interesting lecture Hank was giving on the DNA behind identical twins, Tes stiffened in the back of the classroom, her pencil falling from her grasp at the feeling of a familiar, warm presence trickling into her subconscious.

'Professor?'

'Tesla, I hate to interrupt Hank's lesson, but it is critical that you make your way to your room with the utmost haste.'

His voice was relaxed, the palsy lick of his accent echoing in her mind fringed with the ache of sleep. But Tes had had Charles Xavier in her head enough over the past six months to know when something was off. And something was most definitely off. Standing, she hardly cared at the way her chair scraped the floor violently as she excused herself in a rush, exiting the room and flying down the hall in a whirlwind. She'd forgotten her bag- the passing thought was hardly registered as Tes dodged a few students who were plodding along leisurely before her. It didn't matter, the key to her room was in her pocket.

'It's Peter isn't it? What's wrong? What happened?'

She was skipping steps now, practically sprinting up the staircase. People were watching, talking, shouting things after her. Tes couldn't hear them. All she could hear was the Professor's audible sigh that clouded her head in a foggy white exhale as she flew around a corner.

'Professor?'

'He's had another nightmare, a particularly bad one.' Charles' words were quicker now, more urgent. 'In his confusion directly after he woke he managed to project his thoughts loud enough for me to pick up on... Tesla, I fear he's having an anxiety attack.'

"Shit." She fumbled clumsily with the key to the room, her fingers clammy and trembling. With a click that seemed to stretch the ages the door unlocked and then Tes was inside, abandoning the key stuck fast in the lock and shutting the old door behind her hurriedly.

He was the first thing she set her gaze upon, his back to her, bare to the touch, taut muscles and pearly white skin hardly visible in the gloom of the drowsy room. He was slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, and as Tes rounded the bed she saw that his face was hidden, shielded from sight by hands that trembled. She blinked. Peter's whole body was shaking, and this time, it wasn't because of his speedy jitters. This, she knew, was fear, bone deep and suffocating.

"Peter," Tes breathed, crouching down in front of him and tapping his arm gently. Even in the off-lighting, she could easily make out the sheen of sweat painted to his torso. "Peter."

He was gasping, the air wheezing to and from his lips a rasping pant that had Tesla fighting to push down her own panic as he suddenly choked on a breath fighting its way past his constricting lungs.

"It's my fault. It'smyfault. She died becauseofme. I wasn't fast enough, I-"

Tesla's heartbeats were rapid, each beat a hammer pounding within her chest as her hands came up to gently rest on either of Peter's knees. In the ensuing months since her rescue from Trask, Peter had been diagnosed with minor post traumatic stress disorder. And he wasn't the only one in the mansion to have it. Many of the teachers who had been drafted into the war would wake some nights screaming and screaming, their desks vacant the next day come class time. It was brutal, yet as the days ticked by and the Professor's efforts at his brand of therapy continued, the night terrors began to fade, and mornings were filled with lectures instead of empty classrooms. The first time Peter had woken from a nightmare like this, Tes had been just as scared as he. It had taken both herself and the Professor to calm the speedster down. The next time it happened, triggered by a class lab focused on the dissection of a frog, it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to find Peter after he'd flown from the room. But she did find him. This time, as she drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, Tesla steeled herself. She was calm. She was ready. She knew what she had to do.

"Pietro," She whispered soothingly, reverting to his birth name. "It's not your fault Pietro, I'm here. It's me, it's Tesla. Pietro you're awake. You're awake. It's not real, you're awake. I'm alive. Look at me, I'm alive."

A large, brown iris was suddenly visible, and then another as Peter's glassy eyes peeked out from behind the shelter of his hands, his gaze distant; hauntingly vacant. Tesla forced herself to take a breath, her chest constricted. The slight motion caused Peter's eyes to flick in her direction so quickly the movement was a blur. A shudder rippled through him, his trembling escalating so that he was practically vibrating, the edges of his frame hazing as he shook.

"She's dead, she's dead. This is a trick. You'renotrealshe'sdead. Trask is tricking me, they'refuckingwithme."

He was still caught, trapped in the night terror like a fly in a spider's web.

"I'm real," Tesla soothed, her words a low, soft lull that ghosted over Peter's frenzied, repeated words like a cool gust of wind. "I'm real and I'm hear. It's me Pietro, I'm in front of you. You're awake. You're awake...

Peter whimpered, shaking his head, and slowly- ever so slowly- Tesla raised her hands bringing them up to where his rested against his cheeks. She didn't grab his hands, didn't attempt to lower them- Tes had learned long ago when the attacks had started that the last thing she wanted to do was try and control Peter in any way. So instead she waited, patient as the day was long, whispering soothing words over Peter's trembling and gasping.

"Do you remember when you first told me you loved me?" She murmured, and beneath her hands she felt a slight give in pressure, a shift in muscles and tendons as Peter began to relax. "All the lights in the stadium went out, and we all started chanting 'encore, encore,' and then the lights turned back up and nearly blinded us, but we didn't care, no one did." Peter's hands went slack, and as slowly and gently as she could, Tes entwined her fingers with his. "And the crowd just roared and screamed, and we were cheering so loud we lost our voices the next day, and then Pink Floyd started the tune for 'Us and Them' and all the girls around us started loosing their minds, and we were mimicking them and just laughing and laughing, so hard it hurt." She lowered their hands to Peter's knees, her eyes never leaving his. "And then everyone was screaming the chorus and swaying, and I looked up at you, and you looked down at me and said, 'I love you,' and I felt like my heart was going to explode into a thousand little pieces... And then you kissed me, and we were lost in a sea of people, oblivious to everyone but each other..." Tesla could see it now, the light returning to his eyes. She longed to reach up, to wipe the tears streaking his cheeks away, to kiss each droplet, each hurt, from his eyes away, to erase it from his memory forever. But all she could do was whisper softly, "Do you remember, Peter?"

The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with the anticipation of a response... or lack thereof. Tes felt lightheaded as she stared up at her boyfriend, fear clawing at her mind that what if it hadn't worked? What if he were still trapped, ensnared in the waking terror that was Trask. Her knees ached from kneeling for so long, but as Peter suddenly blinked all she could think of was is he awake? Is he conscious of where he really is? Or-

"Tes?" Peter croaked, his voice hoarse, raw from yelling in the throws of his nightmare. Tesla knew, she'd been awoken enough nights to know. Peter blinked, his face contorting, disoriented. "Tes?" He breathed.

"I'm here," Tesla said, watching with barely suppressed alarm as a fresh tear began to slide down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. Peter's hands were still trembling in her grasp, his body quaking, but it wasn't as violent. He was calming down.

"You were dead," he choked out, blinking away another tear as it clouded his vision. It dripped down, splashing with a patter against their intertwined fingers. "We were escaping but the gate closed too quickly and I- I wasn't-" Peter drew a breath that sent a tremor of spasming shivers through his body. He shook his head, dropping Tes's gaze. "I wasn't fast enough and they took you and- and-"

"Shh, it was a bad dream," Tes shushed, raising from her knees and ignoring their creaking protests as she settled herself beside Peter on the bed. Wrapping an arm around his, she closed her eyes, resting her head against Peter's shoulder. "It was a bad dream. You got me out, remember?"

"But what if I hadn't?" Peter's voice broke, barely more than a hush.

"But you did, Pietro. You did. And now Trask has been exposed completely, thanks to you and Charles' testimonies at court. Remember? He's locked up. They're all locked up. Rotting in prison for the rest of their lives." Tes sat up, turning so that she faced Peter. The silver haired boy didn't budge, his head hanging low, hair dripping into his line of vision and shielding his gaze from sight. "And we're here. Safe."

Slipping from his side, Tes hurried into the bathroom, dousing a washcloth with cool water before returning to Peter and dabbing gently at the beads of sweat dotting his neck and forehead, aware of the way his ragged breathes danced along the inside of her arm, still too uncomfortably uneven for her liking.

"Breathe in through your nose, Peter." Tes murmured, holding the cold cloth to his brow with her right hand while her left found comfort in stroking through his silver hair lethargically. Peter did as she requested, exhaling through barely parted lips in a rush.

"Slower," Tes hummed, swiping the cloth gently from the edge of his brow down to where it came to rest at the nape of his neck. "Breath in slower for me." Peter complied, his brow knitting together as he struggled to regain control. This time, when he exhaled, it was less erratic. Four minutes later, when Peter's breathing was just about as normal as it ever was (she still forgot how much faster he normally breathed compared to everyone else), Tes sighed, her relief bubbling up and nearly causing a laugh to escape her lips. Checking herself, she hastily gave Peter a once over, scanning his face thoroughly as she removed the cloth from his neck. Standing, she felt his eyes trained on her back as she tossed the cloth in the hamper, moving to the bureau and pulling from it a jacket and a particular pair of silver sneakers. Glancing at the grey sweats Peter usually slept in, Tes reclaimed her spot beside her boyfriend, placing his shoes in front of him before holding out his jacket for him to take. The questioning look she received was almost comical in its confusion. Tesla held back a snort.

"We should go for a walk, get out of this stuffy room, y'know?"

Like the breaking of the sun from behind clouds, a small smile flitted onto Peter's lips, his dimples pressing shallow patterns into his cheeks.

"O-okay."

~*~Quicksilver~*~

Compared to the previous year's snowstorm that had torn its way across the east coast, the winter of 1975 was not exactly what Tes would call exciting. They'd hardly had any snow, and the ground that crunched beneath their feet was crisp and delicate, crumbling into brown dust as they made their way around the side of the mansion. Despite the lack of snow, the cold was as attendant as ever, a frigid wind buffeting the couple as they turned the corner of the school, causing Tes to duck closer to Peter as a shiver chased gooseflesh up her legs to her spine and beyond. Despite his letterman jacket never failing to keep her warm during their lessons held in the drafty rooms of the mansion, Tes would be the first to agree that it had no business being worn in the middle of winter in New York, no matter how small the walk it was being taken on. Nevertheless, when Tes spotted several other students playing a rather passionately brutal game of rugby on the large lawn beside the school, she was quick to suggest watching. Peter was doubly so in finding a bench for them, his speed causing several of the younger students involved in the game to turn and stare as he suddenly reappeared at Tesla's side.

"Found one," he murmured, the ghost of a smug smile gracing his lips. Tes beamed. When they'd finally sat down, Peter with his arm slung around her and Tes with her head nestled against his shoulder, the game was well underway. Digging into the pocket of her borrowed jacket, Tes pulled a plum from it's depths, handing it to Peter who took it unsurely.

"Where'd you get this?" He asked, swiping the fruit from her hand in the blink of an eye. Tes smiled to herself; Peter was slowly coming back to her.

"I've had it since breakfast this morning."

Peter frowned. "It's ten o'clock Tes... How long have you been up?"

"A while," Tes sighed, winking. Pointing at the plum, she grinned. "I snagged the last one this morning, so you'd better eat it." She threatened playfully. Peter chuckled.

"What'd you do? Electrocute some poor twelve year old for it?"

Peter's joking was incredibly close to what had actually happened, but Tes would never admit that to him. He'd forever tease her for it- she'd never live it down.

"One of the professors, actually," Tes mumbled, causing Peter to snort as he bit into the dark fruit, finishing it literally three seconds later and tossing it into the bushes behind them.

"Was it Hank?"

"Pietro Maximoff!" Tes exclaimed, swatting at him jokingly, "you have an unhealthy obsession with torturing that man."
"He makes it too easy," Peter laughed. Tes giggled, a slender hand reaching up to rub away an irritating itch on the top of her hand, the sleeve of Peter's track jacket sliding down in the process. There was a sudden pause followed by Peter blanching and sucking in a severe, shocked breath. Tes' eyes tracked his, coming to land on the thin, raised skin where scars had formed, souvenirs from her time spent with Trask Industries. Ripping the sleeve down hastily, the frantic, energetic screams of the playing children seemed to fade into nothing as Tes watched Peter retreat into himself. Just as swiftly as he'd been warming up to her and the waking world, now he was thrust back into the nightmare of the past. Tes lowered her eyes. Recovering, as the victim, had been hard. The hardest thing she'd ever done. Every day was a struggle, continued to be a struggle, but she was coping, with the help of Charles and Hank, and Peter and the other kids and teachers. Her family away from her family. But Peter... He blamed himself. For not knowing she'd been taken. For not being able to protect her. For leaving her in the clutches of such evil for nearly half a month. And Tes knew, he beat himself up every day for it. She was getting tired of that.

"Quicksilver."

Peter flinched faster than the naked eye could track, unaccustomed to the unexpected change of name and tone. He glanced at Tes before looking away, his face a mask of barely concealed misery.

"Look at me." Tes growled. Peter shifted towards her almost reluctantly.

"Why'd you call me Quicksilver?" The word's tumbled from his lips in a scrambled blitz, but Tesla had the answer already poised upon her lips.

"Because that's who you are, isn't it? Quicksilver, the boy who broke into the Pentagon, the most secure location in the United States. A kleptomaniac who likes to take his girlfriend on stealing sprees-"

"-But I-"

"The fastest man in the world." Tes steamrolled through Peter's sentence, her voice growing louder, fiercer, more urgent. "You went into that warehouse singlehandedly to get me out, Peter. You." Tes shook her head, feeling tears beginning to brim over like water bursting from an eroding dam. "I've loved you since the day we met, you know. Ever since I saw you." Tesla sniffled, "You and your stupid pranks and your smug grin. I fell in love with you a long time ago, Peter Maximoff." Peter's eyes blew wide, his mouth falling open, but Tes didn't give him a chance to speak. "I know how ridiculous that sounds, and I know it's pretty sappy. But please," Tes' voice broke then, the tears finally too overwhelming to contain. "Please, don't do this to me. Don't push me away. Not after all we've been through together."

Peter's face was a mask of pure astonishment, his dark eyes blown wide and nostrils flared. "Tesla..."

"You can't blame yourself for what happened. And you do. It haunts you, like ghosts in the walls it follows you, haunts you, tortures you." Tesla whispered. "And I see it take hold. And it's not fair. Not to you, and not to me..." She began to fidget then, suddenly self conscious. Hastily she dropped Peter's gaze. "The Professor once told me, during one of my sessions with him, he said, 'Tesla, what's the point of living in the past? This is the present, you must dwell on the here and now, because it might not always be with you'... I took that to heart, Peter, and when I see these scars now," Tesla yanked back her sleeve, exposing the long, deep rifts that ran along the skin of her arm. "When I see these I think of how strong I am, to have overcome something like that. And I think of how strong you are, for staying with me, protecting me. Even when you don't have to-"

"Of course I have to, I love you, Tes."

They'd talked about Peter needing to learn to control himself whenever they became intimate- he would get too excited, forget himself, speed up- but in that moment all recollection of those discussions became lost to them both as Peter darted forward, his lips finding Tesla's within a millisecond, so fast that she'd been just beginning to speak when his lips connected with her own, crushing whatever words she was about to utter as he kissed her deeply, his hand claiming the nape of her neck as he forced himself to slow down to what felt like a painstakingly slow crawl. Except everything felt like a slow crawl to Peter, and if this was to be included in that vast category, well then who the hell was he to complain? Tesla's eyes slid closed, her arms coming up to wrap themselves around him, hands tangling themselves in silver hair as she arched up into his touch. To Tesla, the kiss lasted less than a second. To Peter, it seemed like it was forever that he basked in the feeling of her lips against his own. They broke apart gasping softly, their breath puffing white in the air in front of them.

"I'm sorry." Peter gasped, "that you- you should have told me-"
"Don't," Tes breathed, "don't be. Just-" Tes leaned forward, Peter meeting her halfway, and they were kissing again, Peter leaning into her hungrily, his lips dancing against her own as if he were starved of breath and Tes was his only lifeline.

"Eww!"

Tes and Peter broke apart, turning to stare at the little ten year old who stood pointing, clutching the rugby ball to his chest as if it would provide him some semblance of warmth in the frigid winter air. "Gross!'

"Come on squirt, start playing before I tackle you." Alex Summer's husky voice echoed across the field, and Tes and Peter laughed, grinning at the elder man. Turning back to one another, Peter rested his forehead against Tes', his eyes catching the way her blue lips trembled, her jaw clenched to keep teeth from chattering together loudly. He grinned.

"Are you cold, Tes?'

"No." Tes rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Your jacket's keeping me so warm."

Flitting to his feet, Peter's hand suddenly flickered in front of her face.

"Come on, let's go get some hot chocolate."

Tes allowed Peter to pull him to her feet. "But we're all out. Alex and Logan drank it all. Again." She complained, her eyes rolling irritatedly though the affection within them was plain to see.

Finger's intertwined, the couples' arms swung back and forth childishly as they trudged back towards the mansion. Peter snickered.

"You know that little coffee shop in town?"

"Yeah..."
"I'll race you there!" Peter cried, breaking free of Tes' grasp and speeding up, out of sight. Tes giggled as a gust of wind suddenly flew by her hair, the short strands waving wildly in the wind as Peter materialized by her side once more.

"How many laps?" Tes asked knowingly.

"Four, knocked a couple kids on their asses on the second, nearly ran over Logan on the third. Gonna have to avoid him for a day or two, I think he knew it was me..."

Tes buried her head in her hands with a groan. "What am I going to do with you?"

Peter grinned and suddenly Tes squealed as he scooped her up in his arms.

"I dunno, come get hot chocolate with me?"

Tes giggled. "You don't have any money do you?"
"Nope."
"We're gonna steal it, aren't we?"

"Yep. And maybe some donuts too, if you're hungry for some."
"Starving."

Peter grinned, and for the first time in six months, his smile touched his eyes. Their light was back. "Alright then, let's go."

Tes tucked her head into the crook of Peter's neck, and then they were gone in a cloud of dust. Across the field, one of Alex's friends sighed.

"I wish I could do that."

Rolling his eyes, Alex hurled the ball at him, chuckling as it caught the twenty-something in the chest, knocking him off his feet with a huff.

"Ow!"

"You're not even fast enough to catch a ball, what makes you think you could catch a girl like that?"

"Oh fuck off Alex!"

"Dude, the kids are out here!"

"Oh, right. Sorry!"

Notes: Not sure if Alex was alive after DOFP (it was my thinking that he wasn't, considering that his platoon was a part of the autopsy reports found by Mystique during the movie), but I just couldn't resist throwing him in here at the end. I mean, who would say no to a little Alex cameo? Crazy people. Dingo ate my baby crazy people, that's who.