#quicksilver reader insert

A heavy rainfall blurred Pietro's vision, but he was able to see the telltale sign of the vigilante's work. Her work, the perpetual thorn in his side. A ghost haunting his waking and dream state.

The lifeless body of yet another one of New York’s worst was artfully posed in doll clothes. Garish make up made the hit all the more gruesome. But it was most likely deserved.

"I've got one." Pietro rubbed his temples. It was Sunday night, he had class in the morning, and his ever demanding lab partner, albeit smart and always right, would not appreciate him sleeping through it.

“Cold case?" Nat asked through the comms, though he knew she already knew the answer.

Pietro looked to the old evidence box propped under the corpses arm. It had been thoughtfully tied in a clear trash bag.

"She checked the weather," Pietro murmured and went to read the name on the crumbling cardboard box. "Rag doll murders?"

“One sec." Nat typed for a moment. "Serial killer from the 70s. How old does he look?"

Pietro squinted before just wiping the buildup of water from his eyes. “Definitely looks old enough. Probably about 90."

“I'll alert Captain Baylor. It is one of the evidence boxes that was stolen a few months ago. How long do you think he's been there?"

"Considering this is a very successful brunch spot's alleyway, and nobody reported anything until 9 tonight, not too long. Do I really have to wait for Baylor to show with his gym bros?"

"Yes, Pietro," Nat sighed. He asked every time, and the answer was always the same.

Pietro wanted to whine. Why him? Why did he get assigned to the new local Avengers task force? Lucky for him Baylor and company were always quick hoping to get any sign of her.

Most of the time they were too late, but sometimes she waited. And as if his thoughts summoned her, her mocking, sultry voice came from above.

"Oh boys.” All guns aimed toward a fire escape with no sign of her. "I did your job, again. You're welcome.” She was perched, cross-legged on the tower of empty milk crates next to the body. Almost floating on them.

Pietro crept back, as her attention focused on Baylor. She was quick to notice, but she made no move as Baylor threatened injury for the fifth time that month.

Twelfth since the beginning of the year and it was only April.

She pouted, somehow conveying puppy dog eyes from behind her mask. "While I love to engage in some verbal sparring, this has gotten repetitive. You’re going to arrest me? Shoot me? You want to work on a compromise?" She yawned loudly. "I must get—" She was gone in a blink.

"Fuck." Baylor kicked the crates over.

"Going." She was back on the fire escape grinning down at them before bouncing up the steps to her inevitable escape. Bullets or not.

"Maximoff!” Baylor barked. "What are you waiting for? Make yourself useful."

Pietro gritted his teeth as Nat also warned him to keep it to himself. This was why he was on this specific assignment. He was the only one who could keep up with the vigilante. She didn’t have super speed, just the ability to appear where she pleased and become non-corporeal as she saw fit.

"You think you got her this time?" Nat wondered.

“Yes,” Pietro grunted as he sped after the pain in his ass.

She teased him from rooftop to rooftop, always being one step ahead and disappearing when he got ahold of any part of her.

Each time she goaded him. "So close… Come and get me… You almost had me… Don't you just want to, I don't know, ahh—” she had mimed choking herself with gleeful glint behind the mask.

Pietro growled.

"She's really leading you on a chase tonight,” Nat mused. Pietro could hear a bag open over the coms.

"Are you seriously eating right now?" Pietro groaned.

"This is my scheduled programming, Pietro. It's entertaining. It definitely needs a snack." He could imagine Nat kicking up her feet on the desk watching his live camera feed as he scrambled after the vigilante.

Pietro watched her jump through a boarded window of an abandoned warehouse. It only took a few seconds for her to be on him when he entered. She had been ready for him to look for her. He cursed himself as her arms wound around his neck and her legs constricted around his arms and torso.

She shimmied his optical camera frame behind his head and tossed it out a broken window.

“I’ve lost visual.” Nat sounded disappointed, not concerned.  

Pietro flung himself back onto the floor and the vigilante disappeared. His spine painfully crashed onto the concrete.

"Oof, that looked like it hurt." The vigilante was solid again, standing over him. He pulled her calves out from underneath her. She fell onto him, and he quickly rolled her over, pinning her wrists above her head.

Every fiber of Pietro came alive with the feeling of her chest breathing deeply underneath him.

"Truce?" she offered with a small smile.

Pietro growled in response.

"That's a no." She was infuriating. Always so sure she was winning the game, and she was as she basically turned to smoke underneath him. His face landed on the cool, saw dust covered floor.

She stood a few feet away waiting for his first move. Ready to let him have a fair fight. Well, as fair as she deemed. Balanced was a better term. Her ability combined with his superspeed made it rare for full contact hits.

So, when Pietro's elbow collided with her cheek bone at a neck breaking speed, eliciting a guttural gasp of shock from her, he hesitated. Only for her quickly retaliate by giving him a high tick to his ear, knocking out his comms. Her foot came down and shattered it.

"What the fuck?" Pietro clutched his ear as she gingerly touched her already bruised and swollen cheekbone.

"I could say the same to you." She showed no remorse, she only glowered at him. "We agreed, no head shots."

"I agreed to no such thing," Pietro snorted. The ringing in his ear was starting to subside. But it was going to ache for a few days if he had to hazard a guess.

"Foreplay,” she teased and cocked her head at him as they began to slowly circle each other. Waiting for an opening.

"That is not what—” Pietro was unable to finish his sentence as her solid form latched onto him. Her mouth crashing onto his and her fingers wound into his hair, sharply pulling his head back.

A low moan vibrated in Pietro's throat, and he felt his weight shift, become weightless, and then come back heavier. His stomach dropped as he free-fell four feet onto a blanket laden bed. She never even noticed, though he was sure that it was second nature to her now.

Her lips trailed feverishly down to the hollow of his neck. He grazed the curve of her ass.

"I'm still turning you in," he grunted as she worked all his weaknesses.

He felt her lips smile against his pulse point. "You say that every time.” Her hand trailed down his abdomen and it took everything in Pietro to not drive his cock into her hand.

"I mean it." he insisted, "You are a nuisance to my life. I would finally be able to have a weekend off.”

 “What fun would that be?” she nipped at his ear.

“You are exhausting,” Pietro continued sliding his hands up her sides to unzip her fitted jacket, exposing only a sports bra. He unzipped that too. "And a literal pain in my ass. I should be turning you in right now to Baylor."

"Mmhh, you're no walk in the park either. If you and your silly avengers wouldn't meddle, I would have cleared all the cases NYPD has left to rot." She dipped her hand into his joggers. Pietro hissed, broke, and rolled into her. She tightened her legs around him.

“Instead, I find myself constantly distracted," she panted as he circled one of her nipples.

"You like me?" Pietro teased and pulled back. This earned him narrowed eyes through her mask and an almost too tight squeeze below.

"Don't flatter yourself. I don't like you, just what you do to me,” she snapped.

"Good, we're on the same page.”

"Pants off,” she ordered a kneeling back onto her heels, removing her clothing with no pretenses. "Everything off.”

"This is the last time.” Pietro was telling himself as much her. The guilt was already starting to set into his stomach. He would probably vomit after this. He should say no to her. He should have never engaged the first time. And all ten times after that.

But seeing her exposed to him it was almost like home. Her shape was nearly identical to yours. The scars were different, and she had a tattoo on the side of her rib cage. A small raven with a series of roman numeral under its talons.

It has been the snow-white hair and movements that had made him hesitate their first encounter, resulting in his ass kicking. It had looked like Hale. But on the next encounter when he had got her in a headlock, he could tell the structure was all wrong to be you.

He didn't know whether to be relieved that you weren't hiding from him or cry that his hope had died. That night he drank a lot, destroyed a few sparring dummies, and didn't leave his bed until the vigilante’s next act. Which was how they had fallen into this pattern.

Fight. Delude himself with her familiar shape. Snap, argue, fuck, and regret.

"You say that every time.” She lounged back on her pillows, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I mean it this time," he grunted, stripping himself.  She made an unconvinced humming agreement as she soaked in the sight of him.

For a second Pietro could have sworn he saw a glimmer of sadness, but it was quickly replaced with a devilish smile as she hooked her legs around his waist pulling him to her.

Pietro switched off his logical thinking and closed his eyes. He could almost make it believable that it was you by feel. Almost. Which is why when they finished and she shifted him just out of sight of the Avengers tower, he promptly vomited in the alleyway.

Nat checked in on him when he came upstairs, and his lie was already prepared. It was the same one every time, the vigilante shifted him to Buffalo of all places.

Each step Pietro took towards your old, shared room had his stomach eating itself. He dove into the shower, the water scalding as he scrubbed his skin raw, trying to wash his guilt away. It was only marginally helpful.

"Better than nothing," he said to his reflection, wet tendrils of silver hair falling into his eyes.

Once he was dry and the guilt was only a dull ache, he went back into the bedroom and opened the top drawer of your dresser, pulling a long chain with two rings looped on it. He never wore it when he was dealing with the vigilante.

      Your engagement ring and the ruby ring Pietro had given to Wanda that had been gifted back to him settled over his sternum. A familiar pulse of energy seeped into him.

His hand came to rest over the rings as he murmured a million apologies for the past, present, and future.

****

 A sharp pen jabbed into Pietro’s side, startling him awake.

"You're drooling,” his lab partner, Harmony, hissed. He blearily blinked at her in her lab coat and safety goggles. Had he slept through the instructions?

 "Sorry,” he apologized, donning his own gear.

She shoved her notes at him and started setting up their equipment. He skimmed over them. Not too complicated.

"Rough night?" she asked eyeing the beaker in front of her.

Pietro snorted. "You could say that."

"Coffee after to wrap up our notes?” she offered.

"I need to eat something." Pietro's stomach sounded in agreement.

"That can be arranged.” Harmony smiled and Pietro returned it, feeling a small semblance of normal for the first time in twenty-four hours. "But first I really need you to try and focus and not burn yourself.”

"That can be arranged,” he repeated her words.

****

Pietro watched her from the corner of his eye as Harmony glanced over their lab report. Her dark hair pulled atop her head in a messy bun and the circles under her eyes told him she also had a rough night. That was doubly confirmed when she violently rubbed her eyes.

"Late night." He turned to her, his knee brushing hers but neither bothered separating.

She groaned. "I was studying for that psych exam and then I fell asleep in my contacts".

"That exam isn't for another 3 weeks.” Pietro rolled his eyes.

"And you should be studying too you know," she sing-songed.

"And you shouldn't be studying so hard. Don't you work too? You’re a live-in nanny, right?”

"Yes, but I get the weekends off. Unlike somebody else I know.” Harmony joked.  “I'm assuming you were out avenging last night?" She set aside their notes.

"Avenging." Pietro mused, his head falling back as he struggled to push down the creeping guilt.

"You seem to get a lot of local assignments now. When did that happen?"

Pietro peeked open an eye at her. "As compared to?"

She went quiet and was now very interested in their lab notes again.

"Are you keeping tabs on me?" Pietro rose an eyebrow at her.

Harmony pursed her lips. "No. I just happen to have some friends who are really into Avenger's blogs."

"Are these friends at the table with us now?”

"Shut it," she grumbled. Pietro leaned forward, playfully narrowing his eyes at her.

"No, please tell me about these blogs."

Harmony became a shade paler as her eyes fixated at the center of his chest.

"Hey, what—” He looked down to see the chain had slipped out from his shirt, the rings on full display. Her hand was half extended as her eyes warred with on indiscernible emotion.

Pietro clasped his hand around the rings, and he tucked them back into his shirt. She blinked and forced a relaxed smile. He swallowed hard as the guilt hit full force.

"My—My fiancée died a few years ago."

"Oh.” Harmony ducked her head down.

"She was an avenger too."

"I'm so sorry." And Pietro knew she meant it when she looked back up at him, her eyes filled with sincerity.  "It's a beautiful ring. I'm sure she spent countless hours looking at it.”

"She did.” His leg began to bounce as he tried to shake the feeling a grief. It had not got any easier as the years passed by.

"I—I should go,” she stammered hastily packing her book bag. "My nanny kid has dance lessons after school, and I need to get that bag packed up. See you around, yeah?"

Pietro felt something was wrong, but she was she was already out the door before he could press her about it. A sharp pulse of energy shocked his sternum.

 He hissed and looked to the ruby ring that glowed a moment before returning to be unseeming.

Goodies carefully nestled under your arm and feeling triumphant you head down the hallway to your room. You’d barely sat down on your bed and opened the box when a loud gust of air immediately followed by rapid knocks at your door signifies the arrival of your favourite co-worker.

“Hello Peter” you greet in synchronisation with you opening the door, the silver haired boy leaning against the bannister opposite your room.

“That’s not fair, how’d you guess?” He says as he enters your room and plonks himself in the dead centre of your bed, brushing past you and increasing your heart rate unknowingly in the process. No matter how many times Peter has come into your room, the sight of him on your bed always makes you feel like a school girl with her first crush. Absolutely ridiculous, you’d scolded yourself more times than you can count, you’re a teacher, he’s a teacher. You’re too old for sillly crushes.

“What is this?” Peter asks with a gasp, holding up the open but uneaten box of Oreos accusatorily. “A whole box and you weren’t even going to share.” You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to swiftly grab several chocolate coated biscuits from within.

“Hey!” You rush to your bedside, leaning to grab your prized box as he holds it out of reach, “I found those fair and square!” Try as you might you can’t reach the cookies, Peter having longer limbs than you.

“Oh doesn’t feel nice when someone doesn’t share does it?” He asks teasingly. Throwing your hands up in defeat you sit on your mattress directly beside him, resting your back on the wall behind. His amusement ending with your defeat, he reluctantly places the now half finished box between the both of you.

Neither of you speak as you enjoy your chocolate treat and the increased beating of your heart. You’d have assumed your veins would be accustomed to Peter’s presence by now, but every time their increasing speed of moving blood around your body proves you wrong.

If you’d known each other when you were teenagers you’re sure things would have already played out differently, when you were more flirty and confident, unafraid to make a move and make your intentions known. Things are different now, you’re older and less inclined to take frivolous risks. In favour of keeping the work place as free from awkward encounters as possible you had chosen not to act on your school girl crush for now. No matter how much you wanted to.

“So”, you begin after you’d helped demolish the box, “what’d you do to weasel your way out of chaperoning?” As you spoke the entire student body were at the large hall that had been hired to host prom. This was the first year you and Peter were working together that one was held. Having been made to attend the previous ones, you wondered how he managed to evade attending his very first one.

“You really think Professor X would trust me at a glorified party without joining in?” He queries with a quirked brow, eliciting a laugh in agreeance from you. “What about you? Would’ve thought prom would’ve been your thing.” You tilt your head and furrow your brows in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question light-heartedly, earning a disbelieving look from him.

“Oh c’mon, a girl like you? I’m sure you were prom queen five years running.” You let out a hearty laugh while you try to disguise the blush that crept its way on your cheeks with his words.

“You couldn’t be more wrong actually,” you disagree, “I was pretty forgettable in high school.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Just like the blush that had almost dissipated came flooding back brighter than before at his kind words and eyes that rested on your face.

“Okay then Mr. Class Clown”, you change the subject to bring some normalcy to your features, “what were you doing at prom? Spiking the punch bowl I bet.” Oh how wrong your joke was.

“I was never even at one.” You couldn’t keep the shock off your face which made Peter laugh lightly at you.

“Not a single one?” Your shock even more evident in your voice than it is on your face. He shakes his head, a smile at your surprise still present. “Why not?”

“I don’t know really. I didn’t get on with a lot of the kids at school and I guess I didn’t think it was important”, ending his sentence with a dismissive shrug.

“Do you regret it?” He thought on your question for a minute before answering.

“Yea… I think I do.” While you weren’t the prom queen Peter had predicted, you had always gone with a group of your friends. The photos and memories you have of those nights you cherish, the fact Peter couldn’t share in that saddened you for him indescribably. You’re sure he would have loved it. Laughing, clowning around, slow dancing… Slow dancing. That gave you an idea. You perk up instantly, tucking your feet excitedly under your body as you turn to face him.

“Peter, where’s your Walkman?” He seems confused, but like a puppy with other puppies he latches on to your excitement.

“In my room.” He ends with an upwards inflection as if it was a question.

“Go grab it.” Your hair flies around your face as you blink, seeing a seemingly unmoved Peter, but now his portable cassette player was firmly in hand. This time you all but leap from the bed, grasping Peter’s free hand in your own as you tug him out of your room.

“Where are we going?” He struggles to get his sentence out amidst his excited laughter.

“To the lake now c’mon.” You tug his hand even tighter with your last word. Unexpectedly he yanks back, briefly making you collide with his chest, effectively stilling your movement.

“I know how we can get there quicker.” You remind yourself to breathe as he quickly and firmly wraps his arms around your middle. “Hold on tight”, he speaks in your hair. You’re pretty sure you know what’s coming so you close your eyes as a precaution. One minute you were in the halls in the X-Mansion, the next you’re at the aforementioned lake separating yourself from Peter and gasping for air. Your empty lungs, while still to do with Peter, were not merely down to his presence or words alone this time.

“Sorry, it’s a bit jarring the first few times.” Eventually you settle yourself enough that you can stand up straight once more. You finally allow yourself to take in your surroundings as Peter was already doing. The lake usually shrouded with students was completely void of anyone barring you and Peter. The water rippled occasionally in the light breeze and the moon cast its beams upon it. Looking at the picturesque view before you it was almost like being in a Van Gogh painting, although you preferred your reality that included the speedster beside you.

“Set it up to start at the next song.” You motion with your head at the Walkman. He obliges, taking only a second before a genuinely innocent smile crosses his face. He hands you the right earbud, the left already taken by him.

“Haven’t worn through these ones just yet huh?” You ask, still smiling from his previous gesture which had made you notice he was using the headphones you’d gifted him. It was his birthday not all that long ago, you’d wanted to get him something so he knew you were thinking of him but you’d struggled finding an item that fit. Eventually you’d chosen the white headphones before you now, as the packet had guaranteed the buds would stay put while exercising. Perfect for a man that never stops doing just that.

“I think they’re the best ones I’ve ever had.” The music was quiet, probably due to the fact you were both restricted to one earbud. You reach over and increase the volume a couple of notches, the melody to one of your favourite songs filling your ears. It was slow too, perfect to dance to. You start swaying, but only just so it was noticeable. Peter gazes at you, watching you shift your weight from foot to foot in time with the song. Tentatively you take one of his hands in yours, holding it out to the side.

“Usually when music’s playing people dance.” Your joking probe breaks him of his momentary trance. Clipping the Walkman to his belt his places a delicate hand upon your waist, your free one laying upon his shoulder. You both sway like awkward teens making you realise you were giving him much more of an authentic prom experience than what you had thought you could. In Peter’s soft gaze your nerves dissolve more and more with every word sung in your ear. You get the courage to release his hand in favour of wrapping your arms around his neck, him following suit and encircling your waist.

If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true

Jim Croce’s voice is melodic, it fills the moonlit air around you with a magic only the two of you could feel.

The box would be empty

Except for the memory

If you had a choice you’d stay in this moment forever, just you, Peter, the moon and his Walkman.

Of how they were answered by you

As answered by the very song you were listening to you just couldn’t, time would always slip away from you, no matter how much you wanted to cling to it in the hopes of eternalising this precious moment.

“Y/N?” He takes your unflinching eye contact as a response, and with a sudden confidence he leans in, capturing your waiting lips in a chaste kiss.

But there never seems to be enough time

To do the things you want to do

Once you find them

You thought Peter was done stealing the air from your lungs but his lips moving away from yours proves you wrong. He rests his forehead on yours, close enough that the breath he stole could dance against your face.

I've looked around enough to know

That you're the one I want to go

Through time with

The final notes of the song float through your ears. When it finishes neither of you can move, almost glued to one another. Maybe it was the moon, or the music that put magic in the air. Whatever it was you never wanted it to relinquish its hold on the both of you.

“Everything in my life is fast Y/N, I have trouble slowing down”, he announces seemingly out of the blue. You reluctantly move your forehead away from his to get a better look in his eyes, gently playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “No matter how fast, you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

If anybody else on planet Earth had spoken those words to you you’d have rolled your eyes, maybe even laughed right at them. The man in front of you was the only exception to that rule. He could make dirty words sound pretty, and he could turn cliché ones into poetry handwritten for your ears only.

The smile on your face is contagious, his lips mirroring your own while you search for the right words to say. How do you even tell him how you feel? He summed it up so perfectly that any words you could think to use seem feeble in comparison.

“Really?” is the only word that manages to make it past your teeth, leaving Peter to smile at you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I had no idea how to tell you, I’ve been too nervous.” You’re surprised at his words, you’d never have pegged Peter as one for nerves. “Apparently all I needed was prom.” Peter reaches down long enough to restart Time in a Bottle.

“Just once more” was the biggest lie told all night. That song played over and over, leaving you both in that magic moment you wanted to hold on to.

This was no prom. You had no chaperones, no curfew, no rules you had to follow. You’re both adults, making your own rules as you go. You had to silently disagree with Peter on one point though.

3 years ago

Pietro Maximoff was accustomed to attractive women, but something felt different about the one who glided across his line of sight. Y/H/C peaked out from your winter hat, tendrils framing your face. A look of ease in your eyes as you changed direction in a split second, weaving in and out of other not so graceful skaters.

"Piet," the voice of his twin sister pulling his eyes away from you. Wanda struggled to stay upright on the ice.

"You know, for someone with superpowers, you can't skate to save your life." Pietro closed the few feet between them and steadied her. She narrowed his eyes at him.

"And you can?"

"I can at least stand, dear sister. Where did Vision go?" Pietro took her hands and pulled her with him around the rink.

"To get hot chocolate, I'm afraid the line is probably long. He's already been gone for ten minutes."

"He'll be fine, he is the most patient of us all." He reassured Wanda in their native tongue.

You skated into his vision once again, accelerating across open space before throwing yourself into the air and landing perfectly on one foot.

Pietro halted and Wanda stumbled back into you.

You quickly caught her and flashed her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to invade your space. I get carried away on the ice."

"No, no. It was my idiot brother's fault, he should be the one to apologize." Wanda gave Pietro a withering look.

Your Y/E/C landed on the speedster for the first time and a small breath caught in your throat. The smirk that seemed to be at home on his face invited you in as he regarded you with intrigue.

"I'm Wanda, and this is Pietro." Wanda stepped to the side to allow Pietro into the conversation, leaving the space in between the pair of you open. He offered out his hand.

"I'm Y/N." You took it, his hand engulfing your own.

“It is… nice to me you, Y/N.” Your name rolling off his tongue sent a thrill through you.

“Hot chocolate?” Vision floated into the group, balancing 3 Styrofoam cups in hand. You recognized the android.

Adrenaline shot through you when you realized who the siblings were associated with. You had been careless coming to New York City. The Avengers had been beginning to target your assignment when you had escaped. They must have known you worked for the Rambovas. Now they were here to get you.

“Long line?” Wand inquired as she plucked the cup from the top.

“I probably could have gone to your favorite coffee shop on the other side of town and it would have been quicker.” Vision passed another cup to Pietro. Vision’s attention turned to you, literally frozen on the spot. You had iced yourself into the skates and onto the rink. “Um, sorry, my apologies. I’m Vision.” He gave an awkward wave.

“I-I ha-have to go.” Maybe they weren’t here for you, but you weren’t going to stick around to find out. There was a loud shatter as you yanked yourself of the rink, cracking the ice around you.

“Wait!“ Pietro made to dart after you, but Wanda held him back. She looked from the fractured ice to Vision.

“That’s not normal.”

Vision frowned. “Indeed, we will bring it up with the team as soon as we get back. We should be able to track her down.”

****

Now

A neat stack of books on your desk by the same author piqued Pietro’s interest. The spines were cracked and frayed like you had read them a million times. Pietro knew you liked to read, but he had never seen you read this series.

He glanced behind his shoulder to your sleeping form, counting your deep breaths to make sure you were not pretending to get out having to explain your past to Pietro. He had pushed you for more information, but you insisted you needed to sleep off whatever they had injected the pair of you with.

“I have nothing else better to do,” he murmured to himself. Pietro grabbed the book off the top, he knew you would have put them in order. The memory of you moving into his room and meticulously organizing your bookshelf was bittersweet. You had trusted him completely and the way you openly adored him made his stomach churn with regret. The past year had only been scowls and annoyance. But it was an improvement from your empty eyes.  

Pietro sat on the floor in a corner of the room, keeping you in his line of sight. With a heavy sigh at yours and his predicament, he opened the book to try and not think about it for the time being.

It was an easy read, even for Pietro whose English reading skills still weren’t the greatest. The books seemed to be written for young teen girls, that was what he could glean from the first few chapters. The main character was a 16-year-old girl pulled into a world of teens with special abilities being used as spies. The fifth chapter had him physically pause.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” he traced your name with his finger, trying to make sense of it. Your name was a character in the book. He read further. She was a 16-year-old, experienced spy for the Government, abilities she would not disclose, and closed off to the main character. Suspicion wormed into Pietro’s brain. What was the likelihood you coincidently shared a name with a character in the book who was almost the equivalent of your real life? You weren’t closed off, at least when you and Pietro were speaking terms, and he was very much aware of your abilities. From both a positive and negative receiving end. But you had abilities and worked for someone before the Avengers. Was Y/N even your name? Why had you never told him about any of this?

The suspicion only grew the more he read on. Personality-wise, as Pietro knew you, you didn’t share much in common with the character. But stylistically as she was described and some of her common phrases were too familiar.

You began to stir, still feeling a slight numbness from the sedative. A groan escaped your lips as you pushed yourself up, they had not been gentle transporting your body.

“Piet…ro?” You silently cussed yourself out for almost using his pet name, but not seeing him upon waking up stoked a level of concern you had suppressed.

“Down here.” His tone was flat and clipped. You looked over to the corner of your room by your closet. He met your eyes with a level gaze and he frowned at you. “Care to explain something to me?” He held up a book, his thumb holding his place in the book. He had already read about half of it.

Dread washed over you, but you kept a calm demeanor. “My favorite book as a kid? What about it?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. If that’s even your name.” He dog eared his page, you had to stop from yelling at him for doing that, because that was not an argument he would want to entertain. Pietro’s eyes had narrowed in on you and he was going to focus on what he wanted to.

“Y/N is my name. It’s the only name I’ve known.” That wasn’t a lie.

“You’re omitting, omitting is lying, remember?” Pietro used your own words against you. Goddammit, sometimes he was too good at reading you.

“Oh, I remember. You want to bring that up, right now?” You rose an eyebrow, you didn’t want to bring it up either, but if it distracted from the line of questioning you would stomach it.

“Something tells me you have been hiding something bigger since I met you on day one.” He threw the book back on your desk and closed the distance between you.

“Bigger than you sticking your—” You started to snark.  

“Y/N! I am not having this conversation again. I’ve profusely apologized for it and admitted my mistake. We’re talking about you, not me, right now.”

“I don’t know what you want to know!”

Pietro threw his arms up and gestured wildly around the room. “Everything! What have you not told me? What have you not told the team?”

“I didn’t think it mattered!” You defended yourself.

“Didn’t think it mattered? It got us captured. You said you went to boarding school.”

“Technically it is a school and everyone boards here at one point or another.”

“Wow, so I get my ass chewed out by you for omitting, but this whole time y—” Pietro was interrupted by the beeping of your door.

You tensed as Moreau stepped into the room. “Trouble in paradise?” He smirked at you. “You didn’t tell your poor hubby about your accomplishments here at the academy? You’re not ashamed of your family, now are you?”

“You are not my family,” you hissed.

“Tsk-tsk, that’s not a nice thing to say. We grew up together.” Moreau tossed a bag of clothes at you. “Get changed, both of you. The Baroness would like to meet you, Mr. Maximoff.”

Moreau turned on his heel to leave but paused in the doorway. “You better hope she’s in a good mood.”

He just the door, leaving a small crack and you pulled Pietro to you. Your lips hovering near his.

“Y/N, what are—”

“Sh,” you whispered as quiet as you possibly could, “Moreau is probably listening in, possibly spying. Go along with whatever I say from now on. We are married, we met when you were still with Hydra undergoing experimentation, you proposed at the Rockefeller center when we were ice skating—”

“That’s where we met—”

“I know, I know, just…trust me. Okay? Can you do that? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You don’t?” A small smirk appeared on his.

“Not the right time. Do you trust me?”

“I always have until now. But yes,” he nodded and gently kissed you. “We got married on my parents’ anniversary, October twenty-third, in Central Park with just the team around. The leaves were changing, the air was crisp, and you looked beautiful in your dress, sexy even. Goosebumps covered your skin, not from your exposed back and cold, of course, but from the rush of getting to marry me—”

“Slightly smug, but I will let it pass,” you murmured, “Continue?”

“We held a dinner at that hipster Biergarten you love, drank hot apple cider mixed with whiskey, and instead of wedding cake, we had donuts. As we danced, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have married a woman as beautiful, smart, and cunning as you.”

You sucked in a shaky breath; his words had brought life to a film in your head. Pietro had thought about this before, and it hurt that it had never gotten to be his reality.  

TAG LIST

The dynamic of the group was odd to witness. They all had drastically different personalities, something you had already gleaned from the bickering during the school day, but under the influence of alcohol, it became even more obvious. It was as if the group was comprised of smaller groups. 

The Maximoff twins were obvious. Natasha and Clint were a pair, that you were sure of. The way they shadowed each other and communicated in their body language was hard to ignore. Either they had been friends for a long time or something was going on between them. Though you felt it would have been inappropriate to ask. Tony and Bruce seemed close, from what you had overheard from their in-depth science conversation at lunch earlier. You could always find Steve, Bucky, and Sam together, but Bucky seemed annoyed whenever he was left with just Sam.

Thor was an outlier and seemed to bounce around all of them seamlessly. His cockiness rivaled Tony’s. Thor appeared to be about six beers deep and enthusiastically telling a story about how he wrestled some unnamed beast in is home country.

“Where is Thor from again?” You turned to Pietro who was watching the group from a distance with you. Though you had felt him watching you when you weren’t looking.

“Some Scandinavian country… we think.” Pietro shrugged. “You sure you don’t want another drink? Nat makes a mean cocktail.”

“I’m sure she does, but I should probably keep my wits about me and not smell like I’ve been drinking. My dad is like a bloodhound with that stuff. One beer was already a risk.”

“So, what is up with your dad anyway? He seems…” Pietro struggled to find the right word.

“Hella protective?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, hell-ah protective, as you so put it.” Pietro inclined his head in your direction, closing the small gap between your bodies.

“He means well. I haven’t made the best choices in my life. And trouble seems to follow me wherever we go. It’s only a matter of time before it finds me here.” You were being intentionally vague. It was a can of worms that someone you just met shouldn’t have sprung on them.

Pietro furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t push. “So, you set fire to your previous school?” He guided you back to the group and you sat next to Wanda on a loveseat, Pietro perched on the arm.

“Fire? Is Y/N talking about setting her school on fire?” Tony had been making his way to the bar when he heard the word fire. Another lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Yes, but don’t even think about sitting next to us with that lit.” Steve waved his hand to the offending object.

“It’s my house,” Tony guffawed.

“Rule eleven, specifically made for you, is not smoking within the group circle, because not all of us are trying to get lung cancer before twenty-five.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s unfair that we have rules specifically aimed at me. But fine.” Tony dropped his cigarette into his glass and joined the group.

“Rules?” You echoed.

“Top secret,” Tony winked, “Back to the fire, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t anything crazy. I was in wood shop and got bored, wondered if I could burn in a design on a plank with my lighter, and it was highly flammable, apparently. It didn’t take long for the rest of the shop to start on fire, the air was basically half saw-dust.” You shrugged, honestly, it wasn’t the stupidest thing you’d done. It was also an accident for once.

“It only went as far as the home-ec classroom. No big deal, aside from being expelled." 

"Lame!" Tony yawned. "Let's play truth or dare!" 

Everyone groaned and threw empty solo cups at him. 

"Why do you always insist on playing?" Nat looked to him, incredulous. "We've been friends long enough that it isn't fun anymore. You just want us to do stupid shit." 

"What's wrong with stupid shit?" Tony insisted. "Besides we have a newbie now!"

  You looked at your phone and saw it was almost ten o'clock. Had it really been two hours already? "Sorry, but I have to head out. Curfew." 

"And here I was thinking you were a trouble maker," Tony smirked. 

"Oh, I am. But I don't want to be grounded for eternity. Great party though, Tony. Thanks for the invite." You made to leave with Pietro and Wanda on following behind you when a young boy, probably about 14, came running in, out of breath. 

"Alright, who invited the freshman?" Steve rubbed his temples. "We agreed, no freshman." 

"Parker isn't going to cause any trouble, the kid's a saint," Tony argued. "What's going on?" 

"Some--oh hi," the freshman saw you. "I'm Peter Parker. You must be new."

"I'm Y/N. You okay, Peter?"  

He was still trying to catch his breath. "Oh yeah! There's a bunch of Hydra High douche-bros who snuck in. They're by the pool." 

"Fuuuucccckkkkk." Bucky cursed. "They're definitely here to start some shit." "Alright, is everybody sober enough to deal with them?" Steve looked pointedly to Tony who was rolling up his sleeves, already looking ready for a fight. 

"We should probably go, you don't need me and Wanda, right?" Pietro looked to Steve. 

"Umm... if you're parked in the driveway, you won't be able to get out. They blocked it with their own cars." 

"Looks like you're going to be late. Sorry." Pietro frowned at you. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. 

"Nah, it's not your fault. How quickly do you think we can scare off these guys?" Tony held up his hand, gaining everyone's attention. "I might have a solution. Let me go down to my basement, and I will meet you out there." 

The group made their way down to the pool. Your other classmates had crowded around, keeping a distance from Hydra.

  Hydra was raiding the outdoor bar and the scariest student among them was lounging on a wicker chair, sipping lazily on a bottle of vodka. A small voice in your head said he was the leader. Maybe it was because everyone else was at work nabbing whatever they could and he was already enjoying their spoils. You just knew. 

"Avengers!" he called out, happily. "Great party!" 

"Avengers?" You whispered to Pietro. 

"I'll explain later." 

The leader's eyes narrowed in on you. "New recruit?" 

The hair stood up on the back of your neck as he stood up and stepped closer to you. He looked you up and down, perplexed. "Do I know you?"

"Doubt it." Pietro pulled you behind him, breaking his line of sight. 

"Maximoff onto a new toy already?" 

"What are you doing here, Keller? I thought we told you not to come near this place again?" Steve pulled the attention to him. "The message was pretty clear when Thor cracked open your forehead." 

"We heard about the dope ass party, Rogers. Thought some of your classmates would want to have a little more fun--" 

"We don't want your shitty drugs." Peter piped up. "Like weed is cool and stuff, but--" 

"Your shit is garbage." Tony sauntered through the group, a contraption strapped to his arms. "And calling it 'Candy Andy' is kinda lame." 

A light emitted from Tony's palm and beam jutted out and shatter the bottle of vodka in Keller's hand. Tony hissed from the hot metal burning into his palm but stood his ground. 

Keller remained calm and held up his hands, though you could see a slight look of terror in his eyes. "Alright, we'll see you around another time then. Good to see you again, Y/N." He winked at you and they took off. 

You froze, you didn't know him, how did he know you?

****

TAG LIST

The skies had opened up over the city of New York City that early evening and never let up. An even bigger storm brewing behind the horizon of skyscrapers. Rain pelted against your window as a streak of lightning lit up your dim hospital room, followed by a sharp clap of thunder. Sharp enough to wake the dead.

Sharp enough to wake you from your comatose state.

Your eyelids felt like they had been glued together. When you opened them, they were out of focus and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust. Where were you? Where was Pietro?

Flowers covered every open counter space and a dozen of assorted baskets littered the floor. There was one that contained muffins and your stomach growled at the sight.

Your hand strayed down to your abdomen to rub your bump and it never reached one. Your stomach, though not as flat as it had been prior to pregnancy, was flat. All of a sudden it became hard to breathe and something was beeping in the distance.

What had happened? Where was Pietro? Where was your baby? When you tried to sit up it, a tube stopped you from ripping your blanket off.

You looked down at your hands to see an IV and a pulse oximeter. You were in the hospital? How long had you been here?

It didn’t matter, you had to get out. You had to get to Pietro and your baby. Your baby had to be with him, and safe, right? You ripped out the offending tubing, and swung your legs off the side of the bed, and pushed off.

The door to your room opened and your gaze met the familiar fatherly face of one Clint Barton.

“Y/N!” Clint dropped the cup of coffee in his hand and rushed over as you began to teeter. “You’re awake!”

“Where’s my baby?” Your voice was low and shaking, you could barely hear yourself. As if you were already afraid that you knew the answer.

“Please lay back down, Y/N. You’re looking a bit pale.” Clint tried to guide you back to the bed.

You jerked your arms away, leaving a smear of blood on Clint’s arm.  “No! Tell me, Clint.”

“Only if you get back in bed.” Clint saw the manic look in your eyes and was afraid that if he said anything you would fall apart before him.

You lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed. Your baby had to be with Pietro. That could be the only possibility.

Clint gently pushed your back into the bed, covering you back up with the blanket. He swung a chair next to your bed and took a deep breath. “Y/N, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Your memory was murky and you tried to grasp onto any piece of memory. “Hydra attacking the restaurant. I fired Tony’s repulsor hoping to cause enough of a distraction.”

“Y/N,” Clint took your hand, “You’ve been comatose for almost a month.”

“A month?” you echoed back, “I’ve missed that much time? How’s Pietro handling being a dad on his own?”

Clint took a deep breath. He did not want to be the one to tell you, but Pietro and Wanda were across the world if he had to guess, which left him as the next person in line to tell you. “Y/N, we found you… alone. Hydra left you to die, Pietro found you just in time.”

“By alone you mean…”  Your voice caught in your throat.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Pietro and Wanda are out looking for them right now. As soon as you stabilized, they started following any lead they could. Last we heard they were in Nepal. I will have Nat send out a message that you woke up.” Clint squeezed your hand. “I can’t even imagine what your feeling right now, but we’re all here for you and they’re going to find them. Pietro and Wanda are strong on their own as is, but together and out for vengeance, they are unstoppable. When we first met them, when they were under Hydra, they gave us a run for our money. They also took Vision with them.”

“When you say looking for them—”

“It was twins, we don’t know how to explain it. Wanda saw it in your head.”

You swallowed the tightness in your throat. “I’ll take your word for it.” The hollow chuckle that bubbled out of you terrified Clint. “Clint?”

“Yes?”

“I want you and Nat to train me. I’m not going to sit idly by.”

Clint saw the spark of anger in your eyes and the determination set in your jaws. He wasn’t sure how to react. He could handle crying, but this was rage brewing. Much like your other half, he assumed you were a force to reckoned with when provoked. “You need to heal before anything.”

That would buy him some time. Pietro should be able to get back to you before then. Clint wouldn’t dare do anything to piss Pietro off and letting you hurt yourself would definitely do it.

“Heal?” You questioned.

Clint gave you a perplexed look. “Y/N, you were cut open.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You didn’t feel any pain.

“Maybe it’s the shock?”

You pressed your lower abdomen. “I had my appendix taken out in college, and that hurt. Now… now I feel nothing.”

“Um, I’m going to get your nurse.” Clint shot off the chair and out the door.

****

The moment Pietro received word you had woken up he made plans to get back to you. Wanda wanted to come too, but Pietro wanted her to keep looking for the twins. They were in deep, trying to find Hydra hideouts and it had taken almost three weeks for Pietro to get Nat’s message.

He practically ran back to you, save for the ocean he had to get over. He took one flight and started running as soon he got out of the terminal.

Pietro had prepared to see you broken and inconsolable. Steve was waiting by the elevator as Pietro arrived. “Cap?”

“Welcome back, anything?”

“Nope, look I’d love to chat, but I need to get to Y/N.” Pietro turned to walk down the hallway to your room, but Steve stopped him.

“She’s not in her room. Come with me.” Steve lead Pietro back to the elevator and to the 15th floor.

“Why is she on the training floor?” Pietro’s jaw tightened. He thought he had left you in good hands. “She should be resting.”

“You can bring that up with her. We tried.” Steve pulled him over to one of the simulation mazes.

Pietro looked at the tracking monitors to see you suited up, working your way through the maze with Clint and Nat. “Are you fucking crazy?! Get her out of there!”

“This isn’t her first go.” Steve motioned to the hologram with your stats. Not as good as Clint and Nat’s, obviously, but you had excellent marksmanship and your hand to hand combat was ranked above Tony’s out of the suit. “You’re free to end the simulation—”

Pietro slammed his hand on the stop button and glared at Steve. “I am not happy about this.”

“Clearly.” Steve grimaced.

The lights went on in the simulation maze. Making it hard to see, you had been doing a night test. “Steve, what the fu—”

“Draga!” That voice made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t even see him coming. In a split second, you were in his arms being squeezed tightly. Your face nestled into his chest.

“Piet.” You melted into him, having to bury your tears deeper and deeper. Now was not the time.

“You should be resting,” he softly growled in your ear.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Pietro let go after a lingering kiss to your temple as he breathed you in again. “Seriously, explain. Clint, I put you in charge of her care, and I come home to find she’s been simulating?”

“Pietro, don’t be mad. I begged.” You finally got a good look at him. He was rougher around the edges and he had grown a slight beard. If it hadn’t been caused by your current circumstances, you would have dwelled longer on how ruggedly handsome he looked.

“Oh, that makes it so much better.” Pietro gave you a look. “You need to be taking it easy.”

“I’m fully healed and I’m not going to get hurt,” you countered.

“The last time I saw you, you were on death’s doorstep. It can happen again. It will happen again if you try to get involved with this.” The pain was evident in Pietro’s eyes. He had spent so much time trying to block out the image of you basically lifeless. It would haunt him forever.

“Seriously, I can’t get hurt.” You pulled out a small dagger from your thigh holster and ran it across your palm before Pietro could figure out what you were doing.

“Draga!” He made to grab your wrist, but you turned away. Crimson pooled in your cupped hand for a moment and you wiped it away on your pant leg to reveal no wound.

Pietro grabbed your hand to examine it closely. “What the hell?”

****

TAG LIST

You rest your head on Peter’s shoulder, waiting for your cup to cool down before taking a sip, when a family comes through the door. The two excited little girls burst through the door first, followed by their parents instructing them to slow down so they wouldn’t crash into anything. The girls slowed down by a fraction but did not cease in their game of tag. You look over at the mother to see that she was wearing a front pack which had the smallest little face staring at you from it. You had to supress a squeal. His face was scrunched and wrinkled, his small hands balled into fists against his mothers chest. You watched as the miniscule boy opened his mouth in what was proportionately a large yawn before closing his tired eyes.

The smile on your face speaks for itself and as you take your head off Peter’s shoulder to reach forward and grab your cooling mug. You peer at him, noting he must have been watching you looking at the family.

“Sorry, I was staring wasn’t I? They’re just so sweet”, you say, blowing on your coffee and tentatively taking your first sip. The fact you loved kids was no secret, you adored them, taking every babysitting opportunity that you could growing up. When you’d imagined your life as a little girl it had always been with children scampering around. You hadn’t accounted for meeting Peter then though.

He was a big kid himself, so when you’d first started getting serious with him you’d thought it went without saying that he’d want them too. Surprised was an understatement when you found out that wasn’t the case. At first he’d been guarded about it, laughing it off or changing the subject when you’d asked, but eventually you pieced together the truth. He was afraid he’d be like his father.

You had known fairly well immediately after meeting Peter that he didn’t have a father growing up, being raised by a single mother. You’d been shocked to say the least when he’d confided in you that the Magneto was his father. You saw the way this man was feared, how he’d put people’s lives in danger again and again. You saw how this affected Peter, how he wished his father was someone he could look up, someone to be a role model for him. He’d never found that in Erik, and while all of that was behind him now and he and Erik had sorted things out between them, those memories still wreaked havoc on his disposition towards kids.

You understood that if you stayed with Peter that he didn’t want kids for the foreseeable future, and that he very well might never want them, but you’d been surprised when you realised you were okay with that. Your friends had been concerned you were sacrificing too much when you’d married, having mentioned to them about him not wanting kids, but you didn’t see it as a sacrifice. You weren’t giving up your dream, simply realising a new one. As long as you were with Peter you were happy, kids or not.

“Pretty sure you’d have to have a screw loose to not look at that baby”, he says with a smile, trying to get a glance at the hardly a few weeks old baby himself. It’s now your turn to watch Peter, seeing how he poked his tongue out and bulged his eyes in an attempt to get the baby to smile. “I think he’s a bit young for that Peter”, you say while supressing a laugh at his antics. He shrugs at you, claiming no one is too young to find him funny before you settle down to finish your coffees, your eyes never truly straying from the happy family of five.

“So they were the cutest huh?” Peter asks you as you’re walking home, talking about the family he’d noticed you couldn’t stop smiling at. “Oh Peter, those wee girls were so cute! Did you see how the one with the pigtails kissed her baby brother on the forehead? I could’ve dropped dead right then.” You say it all with no agenda. You’d never try to change Peter’s mind, but you can’t help gushing.

He falls silent as you reach home after the short walk, him unlocking the door and letting you step inside first. He watches as he take your scarf off and hang in on the coat rack at the door, seeing how your hair falls daintily around your face and how your cheeks are a little flushed from the walk. He could never stop looking at you, sometimes he was so enraptured in watching you that you had to snap your fingers at him to pull him out of his trance.

It’s true, he hadn’t wanted kids. In the years since he’d worked things out with Erik though he’d felt a change. Something shifted, as if the worry he’d turn out removed like his own father had started to fade when he’d finally gotten to talk to him. Lately he’d noticed he was looking at kids just as much as you, thinking how great it would be to have a little Maximoff running around.

“Hey Y/N?” You stop on your way to the kitchen, turning around to look at Peter while humming to indicate you’d heard him. “You know I love you, don’t you?” You scrunch your eyebrows at the way he was speaking rather awkwardly, walking over to him and putting your arms around his neck. “Of course I do, I love you too.” Nows the time, looking into your eyes he couldn’t be more sure of it.

“I’m ready”, he speaks, having to continue when he only sees confusion on your face, “for a family. I want to have a kid.” You don’t speak for a while making Peter wonder if he’d said something wrong or if he’d chosen the wrong time. “Are you serious?” You whisper, a wide grin spreading larger across your face with every word you speak. He nods his head at you, his signature grin coming out at your happiness.

“Do you mean that?” You ask, still unable to shake your utter shock at his announcement. He nods eagerly once more, eliciting an excited squeak from you as you tighten your arms around his neck, him reciprocating by wrapping his around your waist. You stay there for a while, too excited to release him.

When you do, you quickly squeeze his shoulders before sliding your hands down his arms to connect your hands with his. Simultaneously you start stepping backwards with him in tow, leading him towards your bedroom. “C’mon Mr. Maximoff, put a baby in me”, you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. He laughs full and excited, “I don’t know that it happens that fast.” He says, even though he continues to follow you. “Well we won’t know unless we try.”

“Whatever you say Mrs. Maximoff.”

                                                        ********

You sit on the closed toilet seat, absent-mindedly scrolling through your phone as you wait for three minutes to tick past.

It’s been eight months. Eight months of trying, false alarms, and looking for symptoms that weren’t there. The both of you knew going into this that people don’t get pregnant immediately, a lot of the time it takes a fair bit of trying. You just couldn’t help how impatient you were. You’d gotten used to the fact that you might never have kids, now that you were trying for one you had been impatient.

The time on your phone rolls over to 5:48pm, marking three minutes passed. You sigh and pick up the little white stick, expecting another negative. When you look at first you only see one strong red line but then beside it a very faint second line stares back at you. You don’t believe it, pulling out the instructions and reading that no matter how faint, two lines indicated a positive result. You grab another from the box and repeat the process over. 5:53pm you check again, seeing the same thing, one strong line and a fainter second one. You clap your hands over your mouth out of excitement. You were pregnant. You and Peter’s child was in your womb as you stood there gobsmacked. It was probably only the size of a bean or grape, but you look down at your still flat stomach anyway, a comically large smile on your face.

The door slams announcing Peter’s arrival home, followed by him calling out your name down the hall. You grab both tests and shove them into your pocket, opening the door and walking out to see Peter at your dining table with a takeaway cup in his hands and another in the seat opposite him. You kiss him on the cheek before taking your seat across from him, cupping the warm vessel in both hands.

You idly chat very briefly as Peter sips at his drink. You raise your cup to your lips as you intend to take a sip before you stop dead and put the cup back down. Aren’t pregnant people not supposed to have coffee?

“What’s wrong with your coffee?” Peter asks, noticing you haven’t drunk any, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone off Brew, I think I’d cry if we had to find a new favourite spot”, he says dramatically, adding “ugly crying too.” You giggle at him, reaching across the table presenting your palm to him. He reaches back and clasps your waiting hand, smiling as your thumb rubs back and forth.

“First of all we’re never leaving Brew”, you say with a cheeky quick squeeze of your hand, “but I think I need to start laying off the coffee, maybe switch to hot chocolates or something.” He furrows his brows as he takes another sip. “Why?”

“Well”, you start, your excitement now bubbling to the surface, “I hear you’ve gotta be careful how much caffeine you drink while pregnant.” “Pshh, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it babe, don’t torture your-”, he stops himself mid sentence as he realises what you said, eyes snapping to your grinning face. “Are you, are you...” He fades off when you produce the two sticks from your pocket and place them in front of him. “We did it. I’m pregnant.”

His reaction is far more immediate than yours. He holds up your hand in his, kissing the back of it before quickly shooting up and hugging you tightly in a flash. You laugh at his eagerness and your own excitement, hugging him back just as tightly.

He pulls back, placing a hand on either side of your face and kissing your forehead. “We have to tell everyone!” He exclaims, you laughing at him. “We’re not supposed to until three months.” He agrees to keep quiet for the mean time, although he did try to convince you to let him tell one person which you absolutely declined despite how much you wanted to tell people too.

“Look,” he says motioning out to the lounge with his arm around the back of your chair, “soon we’re going to have a little Peter and Y/N running around here.” You smile, being able to picture Peter playing on the floor with your child.

“You do realise this means you’re going to have to deal with me not being able to have an Americano for nine months right?” You say teasingly. “Yesh, it’s going to be rough,” he says, you doing nothing to disagree. You look up into the face of the man you love and the man who has made you the happiest you’ve ever been.

“It’s going to be worth it though”, he says with sincerity. You smile with him in agreeance.

“Sorry Scott, sorry Kurt.”

“You’re such a party pooper man.” You and Peter spoke in unison, showcasing your different dispositions. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have what we have babe.” He says into your ear, causing another giggle to bubble from your throat.

“Not deaf Peter.” Scott grumbles from his spot on the sofa neighbouring the two seater you and Peter were on. “I also have a girlfriend”, he says raising the hand joined with a less than interested Jean’s, “in case you forgot.”

You and Peter weren’t listening, having already retreated into your bubble again. Scott rolled his eyes at you both, not that you could tell through his glasses. Despite the teasing and the annoyance, Scott couldn’t help but admire what you two have. Looking at you no one would guess you’d been together for years. In fact, when you’d first gotten together your peers in the mansion had speculated amongst themselves that it would be a fling and nothing more.

“I dunno Ororo, it just feels like we’re always going to be like this” you remember musing to your friend. “That’s what they all say Y/N.” Despite all their doubt and bets on when you’d end you had proved them all wrong. You never stopped holding hands down the hallway. You never stopped placing kisses on the others cheeks whenever you could. Most importantly, you’d never left your honeymoon phase, every week passing feeling as though you were reliving your first week together over and over. Your friends were outwardly sarcastic and snide about your ‘too good to be true’ relationship, but inwardly they were happy for you, if not puzzled. How did you two do it?

“Am I sneaking in tonight?” You whisper to Peter as you make your way upstairs, the movie you had paid no attention to now over. “Of course. Give it an hour, Scott should be snoring by then.” You kiss his cheek closest to you, his cheeky grin making the apples of his cheek prominent. This has been your little habit of late. You’d wait until Scott was fast asleep, slink into bed to cuddle with Peter, and there you’d stay until the gentle morning rays awoke you with the reminder you’d have to return to your own room, lest you should be caught in the act.

You were smiling at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in the communal girl’s bathroom, already counting down the minutes until you’d be in Peter’s arms again. His head resting atop yours and his lips pressing light kisses on anywhere he could reach; the memories and anticipation causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach like a school girl with a crush. You guess in some ways you were. Was it lame to say you had a crush on your boyfriend? Maybe. But who cares? Certainly not you.

“Hey Y/N?” Jean’s voice pulls you out of your daydream. “Can I ask you something?” She queries as she washes her hands. Your nod prompts her to continue, “You and Peter... How do you do it?”

“What do you mean?” Your words barely make a coherent sentence past the toothbrush and toothpaste still in your mouth. “You know what I mean”, she’s reluctant to say what she’s thinking, the confused look on your face forcing her to, “how are you guys still so happy after so long?” She’s embarrassed, her eyes darting all around the bathroom. You spit out your toothpaste before answering, deeming a clear voice was probably necessary for this unexpected conversation.

“Are you and Scott-” “No no, we’re fine it’s not that”, she interrupts, “it’s just we’re still new. I want what you guys have when me and Scott have been together for that long.” The two were still a relatively fresh couple of the mansion, only having been dating five months by this stage. Honestly, you don’t know how to answer her question. You didn’t think you did anything, you were just happy. “I mean, there’s no magic rule we follow or anything...” you don’t know what to tell her without making her want to vomit in her mouth. “Just don’t take him for granted. Appreciate the other person for who they are and let yourself be happy. Don’t let little things get between you, that’s all we do”, you surmise with a shrug of your shoulders. The flush of a toilet and opening of a stall makes you realise that Ororo was in the room the whole time.

“Good thing I’m not lactose intolerant”, she says washing her hands, “otherwise I’d be even sicker than I already feel.” Despite her words there was a smile plastered on her face, making Jean snigger and you shrug. “Well consider yourself lucky”, you say as you exit, toothbrush in hand, “that was me going light on the cheese.”

Time tics by slowly as you wait, minutes seemingly taking hours as you wait for the small digital clock to flick it’s digits over to 11:00pm, the time that would ensure Scott and your roommate Ororo were both asleep. The soft breathing coming from the other side of the room indicates you were safe on your end, and when the clock finally ticked over you were gone, stepping softly and silently down the hallway to Peter’s room. You stealthily open and close the door without making a sound. The dark proves no obstacle as you make your way to his bed, having done it so many times now you’re sure you could make the journey blindfolded.

“What took you so long?” He’s made that joke enough times that you really shouldn’t laugh, yet you just can’t help yourself as you slide into his waiting arms. “Traffic was crazy”, you say as you snuggle down, his arms securing their permanent position around your waist as he kisses your shoulder blade. You and Peter loved to spoon. While sometimes Peter enjoyed being the little spoon, most of the time you happily took that position, just like tonight. You take a moment to enjoy the mere feeling of being snuggled next Peter, as you usually do, the butterflies still in flight within your stomach now mixed with the little exhilaration at the idea you could get caught.

“So Jean asked me an interesting question on the bathroom today.” You have your whispering down to a fine art. While you were sure that a bomb could go off and Scott’s snoring would still continue, it wasn’t a chance you overly wanted to take. You move your face to see his hovering over your shoulder, his eyebrow arched suggestively, earning a small flick upon his nose. “Nothing like that you pervert”, he rolls his eyes at your name calling, “she was asking how we were so happy”, you regale.

“That’s funny”, you widen your eyes a little in intrigue to prompt him on, “Kurt asked me the same thing in the guy’s bathroom.” You look at each other in the eyes, flicking back and forth between each pupil. You both crack at the same time, letting your shared giggles fill the air around you. You both encouraged the other to stop, but nothing quelled your laughs except time to let yourselves calm down. “What’d you tell him?” Your curiosity almost too much to bear. “Uh-uh”, he tsks, “ladies first.” You roll your eyes playfully yet oblige his request regardless, recounting every sentiment you had passed on to the girls. “Your turn.” You wriggle around in his arms to face him, eager to hear what he’d said.

“Nothing.” You furrow your brow in confusion. “Nothing”, you repeat in disbelief, “you had no advice for the poor guy?” He shakes his head at your misunderstanding. “I told him that when you find someone who makes you this happy”, he brushes his nose against yours briefly, “that there wasn’t anything you had to do. I do nothing every day and I reckon I’m the happiest guy under this roof.” You laugh, his words vacuous to some made your heart swell. He was right, you’d spent many a day doing nothing at all, yet you felt like you could have been a top the Eiffel Tower or in a gondola down the canals in Venice for how full and happy you felt.

“How did we become that couple?” You ponder out loud. Peter shrugs, his bottom lip slightly sticking out in wonder. “You like it don’t you?” The glint in his eyes tells you the answer before he even says it.

“Is it bad that I kind of love it?” His questions almost rhetorically.

“Not at all”, you bury yourself into his chest, ready to nod off in the secure hold he has around you before continuing, “I hope we’re always that couple.”

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