Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver Imagines

Hear Me Out

 The heels of your shoes click on the smooth tiles of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. You're not walking alone- by your side is none other than Steve Rogers, the man out of time. You're used to working alongside Avengers such as him, but you still find yourself unconsciously lengthening your stride to keep up with the blond man.

Steve turns to you as you head further down the corridors, away from the main atrium and towards a hall of debriefing rooms. "I should mention that I'm here because I need you on a new assignment. I have a case file here for you, one that I wasn't able to give to you earlier because we need discretion. Secrecy, if you will." You raise your eyebrows. "You think keeping the files from me for a couple of hours longer will make sure this mission stays a secret?" Steve shrugs. "In a building full of spies? I think anything works."

You give him a quizzical look. "So, what could possibly be important enough to warrant this? What's in that file?" Steve glances around to make sure nobody is listening in, or at least pretending not to, then speaks in a muted voice. "The reason this mission is so secret is because it involves the addition of two new members to our team. They're not exactly on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s list of favorite people, so we're keeping this under wraps until the last possible minute."

You flash him a knowing grin. "You mean you're waiting to tell my bosses until the mission is a success and they're forced to pretend it was their idea all along." Steve chuckles. "Well, when you put it that way I guess so." He reaches for a briefcase at his side, flipping it open to access the folders tucked away inside. As he rummages around inside the bag, your gaze is drawn to a man on the opposite end of the hall, a man just ducking his head out of a door to speak to someone a few feet away.

You feel like your heart has briefly stopped beating. For some reason, you think you recognize that man, that you know that shock of white blond hair and the smirk he always seems to slip on like a well-worn glove. But that doesn't make sense, because you haven't seen that man in almost a year and there's no way that he could be here right now, just down the hall from you. The man is about to head back into the room and close the door behind you when he turns and sees you. The two of you make eye contact for just a second, and even though the man seemingly moves on, you can tell from the look in his eyes that he saw you. He recognizes you, and you know now that there's no way that isn't the man you're thinking of. There's no way that isn't Pietro Maximoff.

By all accounts, it doesn't make sense. You had known Pietro since you were a child, even before the bombings stole his parents and house away from him, and the violence tore you away from everything you held dear. You had both grown up in Sokovia, in cramped houses a block or so apart. Yes, he had a twin sister Wanda, but you had always been closer to Pietro. When you heard the bombs go off, you had been terrified for him. When you were older, a teenager struggling to get by in the war torn streets, he had looked out for you.

You can still remember one night, when you had been caught unawares by a group of thieves and relieved of the little money you'd managed to hold on to. Pietro had found you slumped against a crumbling brick alleyway, hand pressed to a cut on your side. You had been willing to give up right then, to let the world pass you by. He had picked you up, held you tight and bandaged your wound. He refused to leave you until he knew you would keep fighting, and you silently thanked him for it every day.

It was strange, then, that the two of you would go so far to protect each other yet let yourselves be driven apart by the smallest of disagreements. It was barely a misunderstanding, yet it had spiraled into an argument that ended with the two of you storming away, tempers heated and regretted words already spoken. Even now, you can barely remember what it was about. The cause of the argument itself didn't really matter, it was the fact that all the tension and fear of day to day life had sparked a fight that had needed to happen for a while.