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

☆ Chapter 18 ☆

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~Back to the story~

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(Y/n) hurried to her class room. Though heartwarming, the talk she had with her father caused her to miss out on a chunk of her morning schedule. She barely had enough time to eat, scooping out a hand full of green grapes and eating them on the way to her car. Besides that, her hair was a mess and her socks were uneven and mismatched.

"Geez, can't believe I'm going to be late to work for the first time in my life," she grumbled. The drive was quiet and frustrating; two other drivers nearly caused a wreck with her car; red lights stopped her at every intersection; and, of course, the school zones that made speeding to work impossible.

Eventually, (Y/n) did make it to work. Around ten to fifteen minutes later than usual but, still, she made it.

The car parked into a space and (Y/n) hurried out, grabbing her bag for school along with her purse. "I can't believe I'm this shook up!" She huffed, slamming the door. Then, as she stood her first step towards the gas station, her sweater pulled backwards. "What? Peter, I swear if you're here making my morning worse-"

"Hey, don't blame me! I just got here!"

(Y/n) snapped her head around to see her friend standing in front of the station, hands up to reveal his empty palms. She turned around and rolled her eyes. The sweater was caught on the car door.

"I hate today!" She yelled, pulling her sweater in desperation. "Nothing's been going right! Too many close calls!"

Peter hurried over and snatched the keys from her hand before any damage could be done. Quickly, he unlocked the door and released the hem of the sweater.

"There, no need to make things worse!" Said Peter, tossing back the keys. "Calm down, the door's aren't even open yet."

"Yeah, because I'm late and couldn't open them on time." (Y/n) briefly closed her eyes and exhaled. "Thanks for the, you know." She vaguely gestured to the car and half-smiled, sincerely trying to lighten the mood.

Peter threw up his arms as if introducing himself to a crowd at a play. "No problem, I can see that you're going through it."

She unlocked the door and held it open for Peter to enter, too. Once inside, he keenly watched her do her usual routine; dump her stuff behind the counter and get the cash register ready for the day.

She never knew how much he enjoyed seeing her carry on without any visible concern. Her face remained flat, focused on the task at hand. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked from the binders to the cashier bag; her hair sifted around while she marked the calenders and sorted out the junk left by the other employee and her employer.

Peter walked up to her behind the counter as she sorted through. "So, what's got you all worked up?"

"Ugh, my dad had a talk with me this morning." She lazily turned and leaned on her side against the table beside her, arms crossed and all.