getting shot had not been on pietro’s bucketlist.

and damn did it hurt like hell. in the midst of a battle he’d gone down, the others too preoccupied with their own fights to help.

wanda was far away, too. pietro briefly wondered if this was it. if he would bleed out before he’d have the chance to see his twin again.

and then you had stepped in. you’d dragged him away from the fight, had taken him to your apartment and had patched him up.

quite frankly, he felt like he was losing his mind. being stuck in an apartment while injured prevented him from doing everything he typically would to stay busy. he needed the rush of a fight, a competition, hell even a sense of purpose. currently, he had neither.

hence why he was bitching at you, instead.

“i’m sure it’s healed enough,” he scoffed from where he stood in front of the mirror, inspecting the injuries, as though he hadn’t been patched up only a few nights ago. he’d pull a stitch if he moved too much.