peter maximoff is quick of wit and even faster on his feet—forever living up to his alias, “quicksilver”. but when it comes to you, it’s like his brain short-circuited. you’re not sure why exactly he suddenly hung around more—leaning against the wall as you passed through the x-mansion, offering a lopsided smile and finger guns whenever you looked his way.

and honestly? it’s hard not to notice, especially after the time he zipped over to say hi and tripped flat on his face right in front of you.

today is no different. you are half-heartedly flipping through a magazine in the library when peter saunters in, casually propping himself against the doorframe. he’s practically vibrating in place, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he can barely stand still. his hand shoots up to ruffle the back of his head, his silver hair sticking up at odd angles.

“hey,”

he blurts out, a little too loud before clearing his throat, trying again.

“you, uh, busy or something?”