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From the outside, you didn’t exactly look like someone people were meant to “get along with.” You didn’t try to be rude. You just… had a tone. A very specific one. The kind that made compliments sound like insults and insults sound like you were doing them a favor.
Natasha once called it “emotionally weaponized sarcasm.” Tony called it “corporate-grade hostility.” You called it “talking.”
“Wow,” Clint mutters one morning, watching you lean against the counter. “She smiles like she’s charging us for it.”
“I am,” you say without looking up. “You’re all in debt.”
Steve sighs like he’s already tired of the future. Bucky just nods like that tracks. Pietro, on the other hand, looks enchanted. Completely, irreversibly enchanted. He appears beside you mid-sentence sometimes, like you’ve always been talking to him specifically.
“I like when you speak,” he says once, entirely sincere.
You glance at him. “That’s unfortunate.”
He grins. “No, it is good.”
You go back to your book. “I’m insulting you right now.”
“Yes,” he says happily. “It is very creative.”
The thing is, you don’t ignore him. You just… don’t react the way people expect. Which, for Pietro, is basically catnip. You don’t laugh at his speed jokes. You don’t act impressed when he zooms around the room. You don’t even flinch when he appears too close too fast. You just look at him like he’s mildly inconvenient. And he loves it.
It all comes to a head in the common room. You’re mid-conversation with Wanda when Tony walks in, followed by one of the newer agents—someone who thinks “team bonding” means “public commentary.”
They glance at you. Then don’t bother lowering their voice.
“She’s… kind of difficult, isn’t she?” they say. “I don’t get why she’s even here.”
Wanda stiffens. Steve looks up. Natasha goes very still. You don’t react. Just sip your drink.
“I’m right here,” you say mildly.
“Yeah,” the agent continues, “I just mean—she’s not exactly… likable.”
Silence drops. Heavy. Awkward. Pietro is gone. One second he’s leaning against the wall. The next he’s in front of the agent. Too fast to track. Too sharp to ignore.
“Say it again,” Pietro says. His voice is still light. But something under it isn’t.
The agent blinks. “What?”
“What you just said,” Pietro repeats, slower now. “Say it again.”
Tony mutters, “Oh no.”
“I—uh,” the agent stammers. “I just meant she’s hard to like—”
“No,” Pietro interrupts. A pause. “You are wrong.”
The room goes dead silent. Even you finally look up. Pietro turns slightly—not away from the agent. Toward you. And suddenly he’s not joking anymore. Not teasing. Not playful. Just… certain. “I like her,” he says. A beat. “I like her very much.”
You blink. “…Pietro.”
He looks at you like he’s waiting for something. Like he’s always been waiting. The agent clears their throat awkwardly. “Okay, but—”
Pietro doesn’t even look at them anymore. “I am not finished,” he says flatly, looking back at you with admiration. “I like how you talk to people like they are already wrong.”
You stare at him. “That’s… not a compliment.”
“It is to me.”
A beat.
Steve looks like he’s having a crisis. Tony looks like he’s live-streaming this mentally. Wanda looks vaguely delighted. Natasha looks mildly concerned for everyone involved.
Pietro continues, now fully committed. “I like when you do not laugh at my jokes.”
You cross your arms. “They’re not funny.”
“Yes,” he agrees instantly. “That is why I like it. You don’t laugh just to make the silence less uncomfortable.”
Silence.
“…are you done?” you ask.
Pietro thinks about it. “No.”
That’s when you sigh. Put your drink down. Walk right up to him.
And say, very calmly, “You’re very loud about something I already agreed with.”
Pietro freezes. “…what?”
You tilt your head. “I like you too.” A pause. Then, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re just slow.”
The room collectively short-circuits. Clint actually drops something. Tony whispers, “I KNEW IT,” like he’s been waiting years for this payoff.
Steve looks personally betrayed by reality. Wanda covers her mouth to hide a smile.
Natasha just mutters, “Of course she likes him.”
Pietro, meanwhile, looks like someone just rewired his brain. “…you do?” he asks, quieter now.
You shrug. “Yes.”
“You are not joking?”
You stare at him. “Do I look like I'm joking?”
A beat. Then Pietro grins. Slow. Bright. Absolutely gone. “No,” he says softly. “You do not.” He leans in slightly. “Good,” he adds. “Because I was going to keep saying it until you did.”
You sigh. “…that sounds exhausting.”
“I am very fast,” he says proudly.
“Emotionally too?”
“Especially emotionally.”
Behind you, Tony whispers, “We are never recovering from this.”
Natasha replies, “We were never supposed to.”
And Pietro? Pietro looks like he just won something he’s been chasing without realizing it had a finish line. Like you were never hard to like at all. Just waiting for someone fast enough to keep up.