Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Not My Specialty (Pietro Maximoff x reader)

It had been a long day. A very, very long, albeit entertaining day. You were assigned to interview the Avengers after their return from Sokovia, and found that even though you had a full night of sleep and they were still recovering from their mission, they had limitless energy in comparison to you. The fast one was particularly annoying with it.

"That's all of the questions you have for me?" he asked with a wide smile. "I can do this all day, if you wish."

"I'm sure you could, but no, thank you," you smiled back as courteously as you could. "You were my final interview of the day, so I really must be going."

His expression dropped into disappointment and frustration as he watched you continue to pack your belongings to leave. He could pretty easily slow your progress if he wanted to by sabotaging your efforts with a few quick passes, but he felt secure that it would only push you away faster. Maybe starting subtle would be the best way to go.

"Coffee?"

"Wait...where did you-?"

"I made a quick run," Pietro smiled coyly but with just a hint of conceit that only he could pull off. Somehow he still managed to maintain a strange innocence that you couldn't deny. "I thought maybe it would help to keep you here just a while longer?"

"And why would you want me to do that, Mr. Maximoff?"

"So you will stop calling me that."

The glimmer of mischief in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and within seconds you felt a warmth spreading across your cheeks. You quickly took the cup from his extended hand and turned away before he could notice the flush building in your skin and returned to your packing. "Thank you for this...Pietro," you nodded, "but I really must be going."

"Hmm," he groaned in displeasure, "very well. At least allow me to help you." A flash of silver surrounded you that lasted only a matter of seconds, but when it stopped, you were standing outside of your car in the garage of the tower with the cup still in your hand, not a single drop spilled.

"Okay, I'm impressed. That is your goal here, right?"

"Subtlety really isn't my specialty," he conceded, "but determination is. So yes, I am determined to impress you, (Y/N)."

The attention he was giving you wasn't something that you were accustomed to, and it was almost uncomfortable under his gaze now, knowing that he was seeing you this way. It wasn't that your own curiosity wasn't piqued, but it wasn't something that you had prepared yourself to handle when you walked into the tower earlier that day. Things like this didn't sit well when they were sprung on you by surprise.

"I really should go, Pietro," you replied as politely as you could, "thank you for this," you raised your cup with a polite smile and darted into your car before he could say any more. He stood in place, unwavering and watching you intently as you fumbled your keys, cursing under your breath at the anxiety that was getting the best of you. "Put the damn key in the ignition," you mumbled to your hands as if it would be enough to get control. You closed your eyes and took a long breath, opening them again with a steadier hand. When you finally started the car, you gave him a quick wave and made a fast exit.

~~~

By the time you reached home, a mere ten minutes away, the coffee that Pietro had given you was gone and the tremor in your hands had subsided, but he was still on your mind. The Avengers lived lives that were full of danger and action and no guarantee that they would have a tomorrow; the idea of getting close to one of them felt like a terrible risk. But there was no doubt that he was cute; he was dangerously adorable and what was worse is that he knew it as much as you did.

A long yawn broke your thoughts and reminded you of how late it was. Grabbing your belongings from the car, you took your phone in hand and scrolled through texts and emails as you made the long walk to your apartment. A few junk mails, a text from your mom that definitely had to wait until you had the will to answer it, and one email from Tony Stark; it was a thank you letter for the interview, but you laughed at the realization that it was the exact same one that you received after your meeting about the battle of New York a few years ago. You decided that maybe a playfully worded thank you letter for his thank you letter would be in order once you slept and had the wherewithal to utilize your sardonic and cynical vernacular to its best use for the man.

You reached the hallway that ended at your door and stopped in your tracks; the floor had a line of flower petals leading the way, organized too carefully to have been an accident or someone dropping them unknowingly as they walked. Now that your senses were heightened, you jumped at even the slightest noise that seemed out of place, slowly making your way around the final corner.

"I do not mean to scare you," Pietro smiled from your door, holding a bouquet of the same flowers that were lining your path, "but I didn't think a phone call would be appropriate for this."

"For what? Acting like a stalker?"

His face immediately paled and filled with fear as he thought of all of the possible outcomes to this moment. "That isn't my intent, (Y/N), I promise you."

"Okay, I know that," you scoffed, "but you have to admit this looks that way, right? And how do you know where I live?"

"Tony may have provided me with your address."

"Maybe no thank you note then," you mumbled, stepping up to your door and sliding the key into the lock. "It's late, Pietro, and as much as I appreciate everything that you're doing, I just really need to turn in for the night."

"Yes," he nodded in hesitant agreement, "yes, okay. But please, these are for you." He held out the bouquet and waited for you to take them, and when you looked at him now, he didn't carry that cockiness or conceit that you had noticed before; he looked softer and apologetic. "Before you go, I would like to ask something."

"Yes."

"Thank you," he sighed, "I would like to ask if you-"

"Pietro, I already said yes."

"Oh," he stopped, taking a second for the realization to strike him. "Oh! Really? Okay, great! Perfect! Thank you!"

He was so energetic and almost childlike in his excitement that you couldn't help but smile in return. You took the bouquet and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away and opening your door. "Tomorrow at 7. Don't be late." You could feel his eyes following you when you walked into your home and closed the door behind you, and the sound of his celebration on the other side of it had likely woken every neighbor on your floor. A small knock had you opening the door again, gasping when he reached in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

"Patience isn't my specialty either," he whispered, running away with a flash of silver and a laugh that carried him all the way home to the tower.