d todo un poco

Pietro is the kind of guy that was often hard to read, the sort that hid his thoughts and feelings behind snarky expressions and remarks. Near enough impossible to get a sneak peek inside his brain. 

Recently things have taken a little turn in your platonic relationship. Ever so slowly moving towards the more romantic side. The thing is, you were both stubborn when it came to sharing emotions. Neither of you wanted to be the first in case the feeling wasn't mutual, even though it was clear you were really into one another.

It was coming to the stage where it began to get slightly awkward, the part of the relationship where it became somewhat tiresome. You wanted Pietro to crack first, much like how he wanted you to.

So today, after a quiet day at the compound, you join the rest of the team in the communal area, blending in seamlessly with a bottle of beer as you sit between Steve and Clint. Turning to face Clint, you see him emersed in conversation with Natasha, so you twist back around, noticing Steve sitting quietly to himself. "How's you?" you sweetly ask, politely including him. 

"I'm doing good, thank you," he smiles, crossing his leg towards you, getting more comfortable. " How are you?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, thanks. Just a long day," you reply, leaning a little closer so he could hear you over the loud private conversations that filled the room.

Glancing over to the kitchen, out of the corner of your eye, you see Pietro make his way over with a bottle in hand, talking with Wanda as he made his way over. You discreetly follow his movements as you continue your conversation with Steve, peering over every thirty seconds, trying not to make your gaze obvious. 

"How did that house viewing go? That place in Brooklyn," you ask, speaking with genuine interest.

"I don't think it was the one for me. There'll be more, right?" Steve rhetorically asks with a wry smile, his beer bottle pressed under his chin.

Peeking over at Pietro, you see an expression you hadn't yet seen before, something bitter. He isn't usually the envious type, but when he notices you and Steve sitting so close together, with your legs crossed towards each other? That's when his mind starts to wander.

There was no reason for Pietro to be jealous as there's nothing going on between you and Steve. He's a generally sweet person to talk to, just all-around good company. But by the way, Pietro's eyes squint in focus told you he didn't quite understand that.

You watch him stealthily, secretly glancing over every time you take a sip from your bottle, waiting somewhat patiently for Pietro to say what was bothering him. He didn't have to speak in order for you to understand his displeasure, the envious expression on his face telling you multitudes.

"I'll be right back," Steve says, leaning closer at a friendly distance for you to hear him. "I've been summoned," he chuckles, excusing himself as he walks towards the kitchen. 

You scratch the side of your head, discreetly looking over to Pietro to see if he's still staring. To your surprise, he was gone. Searching around, you spot the back of him as he's about to leave the room.

You place your beer on the coffee table and subtly chase after him. "Pietro," you whisper, making your way down the corridor. "Pietro," you say again, slightly louder.

"Milovat," the familiar voice of Pietro calls. Following the sound, you see him leaning with his back against the wall, arms folded. "Wondering when you were gonna show up," he smirks, his gaze following you as you rest against the opposite wall. 

"You knew I'd follow you?" 

"Hm," he grins, nodding cutely. "Kinda counting on it. Why are you being so hard to get, draga?"

"Me?" you reply, your tone sounding offended. "No, that's you,"

"Nuh-uh," he says, his gaze fixed on you. "What's with all these games?"

"I'm not playing games, P. I don't-- I don't like games," you say sincerely, eyes softening. 

"With Steve back there," he points with his head, nodding backwards.

"We were just talking... he seemed sad," you speak sweetly, trying to reassure him. 

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sweetly widen as he straightens from the wall. "You're not just saying that?" slowly making his way over to you.

"Yeah, I mean it. I don't like him in that way," 

"Then who do you like?" he asks suggestively, standing a foot away. 

"Who do you like?" you tease, trying to coax him into answering first.

"You're so stubborn, draga," he grins as his hands reach for your face, cupping around your cheeks. He leans forward slightly, kissing the tip of your nose. Whispering. "You."