Imagines/oneshots Book 1

54. peter maximoff - for the record

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Apocalypse takes place in 1983 and so does this one shot. That's when both records mentioned came out, the pink Floyd album was released in March and the David Bowie album was released in April.

Song: cat people (putting out the fire) by David Bowie
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I paced up to the front door and knocked lightly. I was met with Ms Maximoff, disappointment written all over her face. She swung the storm door open quickly and let me in with a small huff.

"He's in his room but I don't think you'd actually be able to get through to him."

I rubbed my hands together and let one corner of my mouth pull up into a sad smile.

"I'll see what I can do, I'm just glad you called me when you did."

I shuffled quickly down the stairs making them creak under my weight. I hopped off the third step from the bottom with a loud bang into the concrete below me. I stood straight up to see Peter with a liquorice rope hanging out of his slightly open mouth. I decided to play it cool and see where that got me.

"Sup Pete, steal anything cool lately?"

I walked slowly to his Mrs packman game and sat down, pressing the buttons in a timely manner. He zipped next to me in a flash and leaned over my shoulder to see me play the game. I could hear his Shakey breathing as he gnawed on the cherry rope. I lost on purpose and swung myself around to be almost chest to chest with him. He slowly peeled his eyes away from the game to meet my soft gaze.

"Nope."

He stood abruptly and sauntered over to the couch.

"No?"

He looked at me with a questioning look.

"No, I haven't stolen anything cool lately."

I mouthed an 'oh' to him and made my way over to the couch too. I sat next to him but not to close. His record player was playing softly in the background, other than that we sat in silence.

"Did Mom ask you to come over?"

"Would my answer sway your view of me?"

He shrugged and took another bite.

"S'pose not."

"She asked if I'd talked to you but she didn't ask me over, I made that decision all on my own."

He turned his face to see me staring at him.

"Why?"

"Cause I care about you Peter. I'm worried about you, and you won't even tell me what's wrong."

He shrugged again and wiggled further down into his seat. I just threw my hands in the air and slapped my lap.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"Will you just talk to me?"

"We were talking."

"I don't know what this is but you haven't been yourself Peter. I know you and you would never blow me off like you have been."

He huffed a laugh out.

"I'm not blowing you off, we are talking."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood, looking down at him sunken into the couch.

"Will you please just tell me what has been bothering you? I promise I won't tell anyone."

I stuck my hand out and extended my pinky. He looked at me for a second and then sat up to link our two fingers together.