#quicksilver fluff

God, for someone so fast, he surely was taking forever. 

Perhaps he was doing this on purpose because she found herself cleaning his messy room (his mom’s basement), folding his crumpled-up laundry and deducing what needed to be put in the hamper and what was clean. She dusted the surface of each bit of furniture and re-organized some drawers, still waiting for this idiot to show up. 

Y/N then noticed his usual tower of hostess treats had toppled over, so she went to clean that up as well. Some Twinkies had fallen from their open container, so she went and scooped them up. Peter’s favorite treat. He always made sure to have one on him. 

Beginning to put them away in their container, one at a time, she paused. 

Peter could be an asshole at times, but he was a playful asshole. H wouldn’t mind at all if she took one. 

So she did. 

Sitting on the bed, she carefully opened up a plastic package, leaning against the headboard as she took a bite of the cakey treat. Mmmm chemicals and preservatives. Peter’s favorite. 

“Now, what is this?” 

With a squeak, Y/N jumped, almost dropping the Twinkie from her hand. Peter stood right in front of the bed, arms crossed over his chest with a big smirk on his face. Not upset in the slightest, more amused than anything else. 

“Ermmm,” was all she came up with. 

Peter laughed, zipping onto the bed, making her gasp as he jumped on top of her.

“Shit!” Y/N groaned, arms going around his waist. Pretty much reflex at this point. She then realized he had taken the Twinkie from her hand, taking a large bite out of it. “Hey! Those things are small!” 

“They’re mine,” he replied smugly, nuzzling into her neck. 

She shook her head with a small giggle, “Baby, how much of this did you actually buy?” she asked, taking a bite of the treat. She didn’t even get a chance to chew before Peter nipped at her neck hard, causing her to choke, “Asshole! What was that for?” He has always been a biter, she can’t ever see him without leaving with a huge hickey or straight up just a big bite mark. 

He smirked against her skin, “Just biting into something else that’s mine,”

You weren’t ever too sure about Peter Maximoff. He always seemed like a troubled kid, loud, interruptive, and he never took things seriously. But when he wanted to be, he was kind, and knew the answer to almost everything in your shared classes. So when you were partnered up with him for your final group assignment for Literature, you didn’t know what to expect, or how to feel. At first you thought he might try to run the shop by not letting you contribute any of your ideas to the analysis paper. But as time went on, and you got to know each-other better, you found out that he was deeply misunderstood. And actually really cute and charming.

“Peter? Will you read that to me again?” You sat cross legged on the carpeted floor of Peter’s basement, chewing on the end of your click pen. Peter was too busy playing table tennis with himself to notice you’d called out to him. Dropping the pencil down on your notebook, you let out a frustrated sigh, standing to get his attention.

“Peter!”

Startled, he stopped short, turning towards you with his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah? You alright?” He asked, putting down the paddle and appearing in front of you.

“Yes Peter, I just wanted to get this part done,” you explained, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Peter was always thinking of the next fun thing to do after working on your project got boring, and that left you quite often pleading with him to pay attention.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry,” he lets out a small sigh, running a hand through his silver hair before you both sat back on the ground.

“What will it take for you to work on this with me for an hour? Do we have to make a deal?” You joke with a light chuckle. Peter jumped at the opportunity to compromise, knowing that he could work if he really wanted to, and that the deal would then be in his favour.

“A deal hey?” He asks, resting his chin in his hands, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

“Yes, whatever you want for 1 hour of your precious time,” you scoff, picking up your pen again to work. As a person without a mutation, you knew you’d never fully understand him, and it was best to just be patient. It was your final year, and the final assignment you ever had to do. The end was in sight, meaning you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer - you struggled to admit to yourself that it would actually make you sad not hanging out with Peter almost every day after school.

“I’m not gonna tell you until the hour is up,” Peter teases, retrieving the book for your paper from the couch and opening it to a dog-eared page.

“Okay read it again for me, and this time slowly,” you emphasise on the word “slowly”, watching him let out a small laugh, shifting on the floor to get comfortable.

“Okay, ready?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter takes a deep breath before beginning the poem, “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,” he looks up at you, before continuing.

“And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,” Peter reads clearly, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to decipher the words. You’re skimming over your notes, making sure all of them make sense. Peter memorises the poem in an instant, wanting rather to watch you work than have his eyes glued to the book.

“The moving waters at their priestlike task, Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,” Peter rests his hands in his lap, noticing the way your lips part and your tongue juts out only slightly when you concentrate. He notices you fiddling with the edge of your notebook, your fingertips grazing the spiral as it winds to bound the book. He notices how effortlessly pretty you are, and how committed you’ve been to this assignment. He thought it was so funny that you were so oblivious to his blatant staring. He suddenly lets out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding in.

“Peter?” You ask, the same annoyance bubbling inside you from when he didn’t pay attention before.

“Right,” Peter shakes his head from his thoughts and returns to reciting the poem, “Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask, Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—”

You hadn’t noticed you’d leaned slightly into Peter, your shoulders brushing. Peter suddenly feels warm, his shoulder tingling where you were touching him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he licked his lips, readying himself to read the next part.

“No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,” he thought of how cunning his side of the deal was, and how much more tempting it got the longer you touched him. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.

Peter rested his hand on his thigh, inching his fingers closer to your joined knees.

“To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,”

You look up at Peter, finally noticing how close the two of you had gotten, but doing nothing about the close proximity. Something felt different, the air was harder to breathe, and your stomach felt like it was housed by a million butterflies. His eyes shun as they looked into yours, your faces inching closer and closer.

“And so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

When silence filled the room, accompanied by the small pants of your breathing, you pulled your body away, sitting up straighter and looking more alert.

“Good reading Peter,” you let out a small cough to cover the awkwardness that had just washed over you. Fuck, you were so close to kissing him, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was because the poem was so romantic, and you were sitting so close - it just felt like the right thing to do. You scowled at yourself for being so cliche, and put down your notebook. Peter bit his lip in a smile as your cheeks blushed red because he knew you’d felt that too.

“Okay, deal time?”

You know you asked for an hour, but a break right now didn’t seem so bad.

“Okay,” you say, as he scoots his bottom across the floor to face you.

“One kiss,” he says finally, your jaw swinging open in shock. A kiss? Was he serious? Did you hear that right?

“Peter, a kiss?” You repeat, confused. You hadn’t read that Peter felt anything for you, the same way you hid having a big fat crush on him by being sort of mean.

“Can be just on the cheek?” He says with a small, hopeful smile, tapping his cheek with his forefinger.

Your lips form a tight straight line as you contemplate your choices. Give up the tough guy act now and cave to your feelings, or don’t. It was like Peter was giving you the perfect opportunity to do what you always thought of doing.

“Okay, only one,” you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a curt nod.

“Of course, I mean, only if you want to,” he gives you the option, but his eyes are pleading with you to go through with it.

You lean forward, securing a small kiss on his cheek, almost too close to the corner of his mouth as it curled into a small smile. Your lips linger there for a moment, before you pull away, just slightly, your face still so close to Peter’s. You contemplate whether you should just go for it, regardless of whether your inexperience reveals itself, since after all he was the one that suggested it,. But before you could decide what you wanted to do, Peter does it for you, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

It takes you aback, but you compose yourself quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, as his secure to your hips. He pulls you closer, until you’re practically in his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. His tongue prods at your lower lip, and without another thought, you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore where no one else has. The feeling was magical, and after all those nights you lay awake thinking of this moment, it finally came in full force.

You had to pull away with a gasp when Peter’s hand started to cup your bare ass under your shorts, your hands resting comfortably on his shoulders as you stared at each other.

“Fuck I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-”

“No! It’s fine, I just, I’ve never been that like- intimate with someone before,” you let out a nervous laugh, wanting so badly to crawl into a hole and die from your confession. Peter only lets out a small laugh, the back of his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“It’s fine- I’m not super experienced either,” he reveals, breaking eye contact for a second to look down, “but I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” You ask him, your voice only just louder than a whisper.

“Yeah! I mean- you’re so smart and pretty, and we’ve spent a lot of time together, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you,” he blushes bright red and it’s your turn to reassure him.

“I’ve felt the same way,” you reply, pulling Peter in for a hug, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He holds you close, before you sit back down on the floor across from him.

“So… you think I’m pretty?” He asks, shooting you a cheeky wink. You roll your eyes again, letting out a small laugh - Peter always knew how to break the ice.

The mission sucked. It was up in the mountains and it was snowy and icy and just overall freezing. Charles had sent you, Peter, and Hank to this mission and it was supposed to be quick and it wasn’t. It was horrible and long and you fought with numb hands and chattering teeth.

It was over now, though, but surprise, the smaller jet Hank had taken was not tested in cold weather and had been sitting still for more than 48 hours at the top of the mountain, freezing so guess what? It stopped working.

You and Peter tried to help in getting it to work again, but it wouldn’t even turn on. You asked Peter to run you all back but even the cold immobilized that ability, plus he didn’t want to slip on any ice on the way. You accepted that as youbcontinued to freeze.

A call to Charles was made. One night, he said. You would have to stay in the nearby mountain-side village. It wasn’t far, but you three would have to trek there in the snow and through the woods, numb and in pain at the same time, trying to make your way to the only place Charles could look into finding in said village, a cabin.

When you got there, you found it wasn’t much warmer inside. The walls were wood, and thank god for the amount of blankets on the beds already. “I’ll take upstairs,” Hank said after coming back down the few stairs. “There’s a fireplace up there too.”

Peter removed his coat and pointed at you, “Do you want the bigger bed or the smaller one?” He asked. You were busy trying to clean up your scratches and other wounds, you just shook your head with chattering teeth. It didn’t matter, as long as you were able to sleep warm soon. He nodded, understanding.

“I’m hitting the hay,” Hank announced. Rightfully so, you had just fought forever, trekked forever, waved and he went back up.

You put your last bandage on, “I’ll start a fire, we can warm up before sleeping,” you told Peter. He took his turn with the first aid kit. He watched you start the fire, tucking your hair behind your ears to keep it out of your face. You noticed how he was uncharacteristically quiet. You assembled the wood and paper and quickly lit it with the lighter you kept in your bag. It caught, and you stood up, turning around.

He was struggling to tie a piece of gauze around his hand and wrist, so you walked over and helped him finish it. “You okay?” You asked. Just because he was quiet and it wasn’t like him.

“In pain, mostly.” He said, smiling a little. “And freezing- your hands are so cold-“ he winced as you tied off the bandages.

“Makes sense.” You could hear Hank getting into the bed upstairs. “It’s so cold, even in here. No insulation, I’m guessing. What a horrible fucking mission this was. Cold and boring and the jet issue and now a cold cabin. It shouldn’t be this hard-“

You stopped talking as you watched his smile turned into a smirk and you could tell he had a joke on the tip of his tongue. “Sorry,” he said. You laughed, knowing exactly what he was going to say. You both exchanged a glance of knowing before simultaneously moving toward the fire.

There was a rug on the floor, so you both just sat down on it, hands toward the flames that now raged. “We look rough,” he said. You chuckled, moving your hair out of your face. “Yeah, you’re right that whole thing sucked. I mean we’re alive, but we aren’t really getting the victory we deserved. I’m freezing my ass off even in front of the fire and I’m tired as hell.”

You looked over at him and he was looking at you with a slight smile that read he was feeling unfortunate and fortunate at the same time. He looked back at his hand, wrapped in bandages, but his face flickering with warm orange. To be honest, he was kind of pretty. You’d noted that your teammates were all attractive in their own ways, but Peter here… he was different. He was your kind of attractive. And he was here and this was getting awkward.

“Maybe we should just go to bed,” you said. “That seemed bossy, I mean me. I should go to bed, I’m so fucking tired.” You chuckled and he looked up at you with wide eyes, understanding. “Did you hit your head? You seem spaced out.”

He shook his head, “Cold and in pain. I’m fine. I just think it’s funny how you’ve been beat up, trekked through the snowy woods and you still look good and I look like a huge-ass mess.”

Look good? You caught a glimpse of yourself minutes earlier and you didn’t look good. You looked like a mess and he, Peter, he was the one looking good- well… better. “Fighting yeti-like creatures really brings out my natural glow, hm?” You joked.

“And the new hairstyle you have with the frizz,”

“Naturally done. Literally by nature- wind and snow-styled.” You both smiled with a certain radiance, the warm light bouncing off of your faces. “Anyways, goodnight QS.”

“Night,” he replied. And you went off to the room with the smaller bed. It was freezing in there, away from the fire. You undressed your suit layers, leaving you in your t-shirt and loose pants, then you put on another pair of socks and a sweater. Even the bed was freezing and you covered yourself in a ball, afraid to extend your legs into the cold part of the bed.

You shivered, trying to fall asleep in a ball. There was a faint scraping noise, but that was just Peter. You wished this room had a fireplace as well. It just got colder and colder, it felt like. You let your hair down, not caring if it went in your face. You folded the blanket over so it was double thickness, but no change. Your teeth chattered, you shook gently, your muscles were tight and it hurt. You would not get through the night like this.

So you decided just to go out to the living room. You would sleep on the floor. You were now beyond grumpy, just overall feeling awful and miserable and cold. Shaking, shivering, you pulled your pillow and blanket into the hall, down it, toward the main room that had the fireplace still going.

You were surprised to see that Peter had somehow dragged a queen-sized bed into the living room. It was right by the fire, but not dangerously close, just close enough to keep him warm. He was sitting up to put on his sweater when you walked in.

You chuckled a little because it was funny, but mostly because it was inconvenient. “Oh my god.”

“It’s too cold for any other room. My room is beyond freezing.”

“So is mine,” you said. He smiled, pulling his sweater on fully. “I was going to come out here and sleep on the floor in front of the fire.”

He looked at the fire, then at you. He shook his head… then nodded. “You still can. Just… not on the floor.”

“Yeah, I can just pull the couch over here…” you moved to start pulling the couch but he stopped you,

“No, I mean… Fuck- just- come here.” That was demanding. You shot him a puzzled look and was that a blush on his face? He was just as fed up with this situation, that was apparent by his demand. “It would conserve warmth and you wouldn’t be so cold. And… I wouldn’t be so cold.”

“You want to sleep with me?” You teased. He tried to hide his embarrassed smile with a smirk. “At least buy me dinner first… Are you sure, though?”

He chuckled, “Up to you. It would be a lot warmer in here right now if you got in, though, so… maybe I’ll buy you dinner when we get the hell out of here tomorrow.”

You bit your lower lip and found yourself smiling pretty hard. It would help create more heat to be with another person. Plus you trusted him to be somewhat modest- after all, you’d known him for a while and you were both very tired. “Fuck it.” You put your shit in the bed and hopped in with him. Surprising how he moved the whole bed out, but that’s what comes with super speed and extra strength.

You instantly felt warmer under these covers. You got comfortable and stretched, then turned off the lamp next to the bed. There was all darkness aside from the flames in the fire. It was definitely better here.

“Goodnight,” you said quietly.

“Goodnight,” Peter repeated. Then it was silent aside from the crackling. That lasted about a minute and a half before he put his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. You opened your mouth to say something but he spoke first. “It’s warmer this way.” He said, unabashed.

“Dinner and dessert,” you teased, as if his arm gently snug against your waist was a horrible thing instead of being entirely perfect. You didn’t want to admit how well he fit with you.

“Done,” Peter mumbled back. He was on the brink of sleep. So were you. “Goodnight for a final time.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, tire in your voice as well. You moved yourself a little closer than he pulled you, to fill the remaining space. You could practically feel his grin. And you let your eyes close to get a good night’s sleep.