SLOW DOWN // X-MEN // PETER MAXIMOFF × READER

☆ Chapter 11 ☆

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Aw shit, here we go again🚶🏿‍♂️

   "I guess that worked?" Said (Y/n) hopping off the bed and into a stretch. "I saw each of my parents and had them remember that they saw me asleep in my room."

   Peter tilted his head and nodded. "Sure, guess that did it then," he fell back onto the cushions of the other bed and folded his arms. "So, trick Mister and Miss (L/n) is done; next step, breaking into the Pentagon."

   (Y/n) had begun to brush her teeth. Slowly, she walked into the room with her hair a mess. She spoke through the toothpaste foam in her mouth. "Ugh, don't even remind me..." she rolled her eyes and turned around to finish up.

   Despite her tired appearance, Peter could not help but to continue to admire her. He liked her candidness; there was never anything to hide or make up for. Everyday, (Y/n) dressed and did her hair the way she liked, and behind the scenes, like now, there still wasn't anything to try to uphold. She didn't care that he saw her in her sleep-deprived state— and he appreciated that. In a way, that meant to him some level of vulnerability; something never shared with someone else.

   By the time (Y/n) got back to the mirror, Peter was already there at the bathroom counter. "You should really fix your hair," he said, combing his hands through. "Looks like you walked out of a fight with a gorilla." To the best of his ability, he began to mimic a gorilla's sound.

   Of course, (Y/n) couldn't hold back her laughter, even if exhausted. She felt the circles under her eyes weigh heavy, causing her to squint more than what she wanted. "I mean, you're the one looking like a monkey, picking through my hair like one." She snickered to her herself as she watched him fixate on her hair.

   "Um, picking through your hair?" He looked at her with accusing eyes. "Are you admitting that  there's bugs in your hair that need to be picked or?"

   Playfully, she pushed away his face before crossing her arms, allowing him to continue. "Whatever, besides, what are you doing?"

   "Fixing your hair."

   She looked into the mirror to see Peter focused on sectioning the parts, weaving them and separating them accordingly. "Since when do you know how to do a braid?"

   He placed his head over her shoulder and looked into the reflection of the mirror. "Did you forget I have a little sister?" He smiled to himself. "A little sister who especially demands that I do her hair nearly every time she wants to play 'princess'?" He then moved back and finished his braiding. "Done."

   (Y/n) turned her head from side to side to inspect the braid(s) in her hair. It looked nice, nicer than she had expected it to turn out. Evidently, Peter proved to be an expert braid stylist. "Thank you," she said while looking at her hair a moment longer. The second she stopped, her eyes moved to Peter's reflection. She felt her face heat up at the sight of the smile on his face. The glow on his cheeks really highlighted his dimples and rosy complexion.

   "It's nothing," he said, turning on his heel and jumping onto his bed. "You needed it anyways."

   (Y/n)  walked over to her side of the room and got into her bed, as well. "You could use some hair styling, too," she snapped, though she had to admit, (Y/n) quite liked Peter's hair as is. The way it was always looked tousled around after a run, it fit his style.