Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver Imagines

Breaking In

The car has barely stopped moving before Charles Xavier turns around, fixing you with a piercing stare as if his prolonged eye contact can stop you from getting into any trouble. "Listen, Y/N. We've talked about this. We're all going to go in and convince this Peter Maximoff to join us. Please, for once in your life, do not make this harder than necessary. We want him to agree with us, not be convinced to lock us up in the Pentagon as well."

Next to you, Logan chuckles. "Listen, I know the kid. Trust me, Y/N is going to be the least of your worries." Xavier frowns at that. "What does that mean? I thought you said this mutant would be an ally of ours." Logan nods, although there's something almost like a smile on his face. Whatever is awaiting you in this house may be challenging, but he's likely going to laugh at you regardless. "Oh, he is an ally, just a difficult one. You'll see."

Xavier furrows his brow. "But we can trust him, yes?" Logan nods, already starting to get out of the car. "As much as you can trust anyone. I can only hope that he won't be too much of a pain in our asses, but I doubt that." You grin, joining the other mutants in walking to the front door. "I like where this is going. I bet we're going to have plenty of fun." The Professor rings the doorbell, then gives you one last beseeching look. "Just don't break anything or anyone, Y/N, the last time was already bad enough."

You laugh. "I'll do my best." Footsteps echo from inside the house, then a weary-looking woman opens the door. She takes in the sight of your group- one man who looks seconds away from beating someone up, one man with long shaggy hair who appears to be in desperate need of an aspirin, a young man in glasses, and you. Fantastic. "Look, I'm sorry, just tell me how much he owes you and you can be on your way. Please don't press charges."

Xavier frowns. "What? No, we're not here for that. We need to talk to a Peter Maximoff. Is he here?" The woman sighs, gesturing for you four to follow her into the house. "Who doesn't want to see him? What's he stolen now?" Xavier shakes his head. "I'm afraid there's been a slight misunderstanding. He hasn't stolen anything, we just want to talk to him." The woman laughs bitterly. "Good luck with that. He'll be downstairs."

Xavier and Hank exchange a few last looks of confusion before you head down into the basement. You can hear the din of a ping pong game long before you see the boy himself. At first, you'd been confused as to why you heard a ping pong game but only saw one person downstairs, and why the welcome mat by the front door appeared to have been run down by a particularly volatile motorcycle, but your thoughts clear the second you get a better look at Peter Maximoff.

He's a mutant, obviously. His power is speed- he's playing himself in the ping pong game, moving faster than anyone else you've ever seen. The second the four of you come to a stop in front of him, Peter starts issuing a stream of excuses- he didn't steal anything, he's completely innocent, the usual deal. You raise an eyebrow. "Well, at least we know for sure that we're at the right house."

Peter looks up at you, distracted from messing with Xavier, Logan, and Hank, and grins. Seconds later, he's standing in front of you, arms casually folded across his chest. "Well, I think I like you most of all. What's your name?" You glance over at the Professor, taking in his exasperated expression with a grin. "Y/N, but I'm not supposed to be talking right now." Peter pretends to pout. "Why not?"

Xavier takes this as his opportunity to change the conversation. "She's not talking because we're talking. We need your help, Peter." Peter, however, does not have the patience to listen to Xavier for longer than a sentence or two. You can hardly blame him- after having sat through a couple of his lectures, you'd also want to get up and leave. Peter considers the group before him. "So, what are you? Not cops, not FBI."

Seconds later, Peter's standing on the opposite side of the room, holding Xavier's wallet. He rifles through it, holding up the old Xavier's School business card with a general air of disdain. "Not FBI. Weird school, though." In an instant, Peter is standing next to you again. "Is it a weird school? Is it weird that you're traveling with three grown men?" You laugh. "No, it's not. The school is fine, they're fine. We're friends."