[I really want to write more humor and funny stuff, but I'm not funny at all, so I don't know if anything I write is. *flails arms* What do I doo?]
You're not a very practical person. Having a plan just isn't something you excel in, usually running in head first and hoping for the best.
You react before thinking most of the time, and that results in you either accidentally kicking one of your teammates in the face or knocking out the bad guy.
And right now you landed a harder then human punch against Steve's jaw instead of the guy who has his arm against his throat. But it works out, sort of.
"I can't believe you punched me," Steve says after throwing the guy against the wall and rubs his jaw.
"It was an accident," You shrug, picking up the agents gun and test the weight. "It fix the job, didn't it? You're no longer purple."
Steve huffs. "Yeah, I guess. Let's go."
Tucking the gun into your pocket, you jog after him, not realizing he's stopped until your bump into his shield head first.
"Jesus. Ouch! Tell me when you're going to stop, you idiot."
"Shh!" Steve crouches down, peers through the window and looses his balance just as a laser shoots through the wall. "Get back! They've got the team in the middle of the field."
"Pietro?" You slip away from Steve before he can grab you, looking through the hole from the laser and spot Natasha, Clint, and Pietro surrounded with guns trained against their temples.
Now it comes down to decision time, which you're not really very good at. Being decisive and all. You spot the large Hum-V's behind a wall of armed men, motor bikes off to the side, more men.
Shooting the gas tanks should distract them momentarily, enough time for Pietro to get Natasha and Clint out of there. But the explosion could make the soldiers pull the trigger, killing three of your teammates in less then a second.
"What are you doing," Steve hisses. "Get away from the w-"
"No talking," Slipping the gun from your pocket, you stand and peek out through the window. No lasers, no bullets. With a quick breath, you push it open and aim for the gas tanks.
"(Y/n), no-!"
You pull the trigger just seconds before an agent on the ground does, it's aim locked on your forehead. By some miracle, your shot hits the tank and fire immediately engulfs the cars and sends the agents flying.
You drop to the ground, gently touching the graze from the bullet against your temple.
It's only until arms are around you do you realize you're no longer inside the building. Familiar material bunches up under your hands as you grip his arm.
"You cannot do that," Pietro's hoarse voice whispers, holding you tighter. "Never do that again. I thought you had died."
"Nope," You say, keeping your eyes closed as you run your fingers along the bandage against your head. "I've got a thick skull. Whatever you say will go in one ear and out the other."
He sighs. "I know. But you need to stop being so-"
"What was that? I did an amazing job and saved your butts? Yeah, I did. Thank you."
"I am serious."
"So am I," Opening your eyes, you sit up and scan the hospital room. "I should get a reward for that. Like ice cream."
"But-"
Shrugging, you push the blankets away. "Fine. I'll get it myself."
"No, wait," Pietro holds up a finger, whooshes out of the room, and returns merely seconds later. "All they had was chocolate."
"Chocolates fine," You take the cup from his hands, giving him a grin when he rolls his eyes. "You're really quiet useful, you know."
"I am not a maid," He grumbles. "I am your boyfriend."
"Who can get me ice cream any time I want almost instantly. You're definitely going to be more then my boyfriend, Pietro."
