Fantastic Fanfiction: Marvel and DC Fanfiction

Comb - Pietro Maximoff

"Ow!" Pietro jerks away from you, pulling the comb from your hands. "Can't you be more gentle?"
You scowl, your patience starting to run thin. "It wouldn't hurt if you would just sit still!" You snap as you resume the chore of getting the absolute rat's nest out of his hair.
He complies, much to your relief. However, a mere minute later he's restless again. "How much longer?"
You eye his hair flatly. "Half an hour. If you quit yanking the comb away."
"Half an hour?" Pietro groans, slumping low in his chair. You don't tell him that what you said was an exaggeration, but take advantage of his despondence to tackle a particularly nasty tangle. "I'll be old and grey by then," he mutters.
"You're already grey," you quip, then grip his ear to keep him from turning his head to look at you.
Defeated, he stares forward, but you know what his expression is - aloof mixed with a large dose of superiority. "It's not grey, it's silver."
"It's weird."
"You love it."
You huff, but can't deny it. You know he's smirking, the insufferable little twerp, so you tug a little harder than necessary on the next knot. He yelps, and you smile in smug satisfaction.
You're not sure what you and Pietro are. You're close, even more than to your families, but not a couple, or at least not officially. You certainly bicker like you've been married for years.
"You almost done?" Pietro asks a few minutes later, bouncing one leg so hard that the chair he's in has started squeaking.
"No, and would you stop that?" He stills, slouching lower into his seat. When he hisses and pulls his head down towards him shoulders like a turtle while you work on a particularly stubborn tangle, you say, "If you hate his so much, why not just get your hair cut short?"
"Because it's cool like this," he says, and you snort.
"Cool? Seriously?"
"More than you."
You lean over his shoulder to look him in the eye. "I will shave you bald in your sleep."
He smirks confidently. "No, you won't."
"I will."
"Won't."
"Will."
"Won't."
"Are you challenging me?"
"Maybe."
"You are so on."
"Like you can catch me."
"Which is why I'll be doing it when you're asleep."
"I sleepwalk."
"What?" You squawk right next to his ear, making him cringe away. "How is that relevant?"
"How is it not relevant?" Pietro shoots back, his smirk returning, and you straighten up with a huff.
"Why do I even put up with you?" You ask, planting your hands firmly on your hips in a stance of mixed exasperation and amusement.
He turns to give you a smug grin. "Because you have no choice. You'll never be rid of me. I'm like a song you just can't get out of your head."
You sniff, moving to work at a knot that's been exposed by the new angle. "More like an insect. A fly or mosquito that's impossible to swat."
Suddenly he's no longer in his seat and your hands are left poised in midair. Then arms wrap around you from behind, making you squeak as he speaks against your ear. "I take that as a compliment, you know."
You turn to face him but he's already gone. Biting back your frustration - all your hard work on his hair is ruined now - you drop the comb and flop onto the worn couch. "Okay, fine, you win."
Abruptly, Pietro appears on the couch beside you. "Ooh, goody. What's the prize?"
You stare at him flatly, and he realizes that you're not finding this funny anymore. "Aw, come on Y/N. Don't be mad at me." You look away and he appears on your other side. "Please?"
Looking ahead, you blink and he's there in front of you, on his knees. He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, and you can't hide your smile. Immediately he grins, taking your hands in his. "There's that smile."
"Don't even try buttering me up, Maximoff," you warn, but your testiness is already fading.
Pietro settles down beside you again, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "What, I can't compliment you?"
"Not to get yourself out of the doghouse, no." You let him pull you against him, shifting to get comfortable. Ironically, now that you're trapped beside him, he's still. However, one glance up at his newly mussed hair and you give it up as a lost cause, though you really need to get it done at some point...
"How about some Star Trek?" Pietro asks after a moment's silence, looking down at you with a lifted eyebrow.
"Doctor Who?" You give him your own puppy eyes, and he caves with a groan.
"Why not?" He pops up off the couch to get the show started, and you settle back against the couch cushions with a contented sight. The hair can wait till later.