AUO SPOILERS!

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To Pietro, everyone and everything was slow. All passed so slowly. Nothing could caught him of guard, he saw it coming before anyone else.

People were slow. The wind lost its charm. Time was a road that he was walking on with a speed that he chose.

It didn't bother him. Not really. He got a kick out of people's inability to react to his quips and remarks, leaving them gaping at his speed. The second the words left their mouth, Pietro was already replying snarkily chuckling at them. The downside was that he quickly grew bored with them. They lost their charm and let's face it, Pietro was far too flighty and ill-tempered to wait for them to catch up.

Yet there was one moment that made him stumble for an answer.

Pietro knew his way around words. That's why it came to him as such a shock when he found himself trying to come up with an answer to a question that came from a blubbering bride in white sprawled on a floor in front of him.

"Does this dress make me look fat?"

It was his first official mission after Sokovia as an Avenger.

It pissed him of that others thought he should take it easy and assigned him to a mission that was created for level 1 agents, designed that nothing could go wrong. He would have appreciated their fussing over him, as he did for maybe an hour after he woke up, but it quickly grew old and he was annoyed by it. Wanda was, of course, the worst, it seemed like she forgot he had extremely fast metabolism that helped him to heal fast. Next was Barton, who felt indebted to him. Though he knew better than to hover behind his back all the time, air vents apparently didn't count.

And now he was undercover at a wedding with Romanoff.

So course it was going to screw up like this.

The short silence was all that the bride needed.

"Oh I see how it is." She sniffled, wiping her nose with her hand. At this gesture Pietro made a face. "I know it does. No need to sugar-coat things. At least it is that ASSHOLE'S FAULT!" She screamed at closed door, mascara running down her face.

"I wanted a pretty dress, with a bow in the back and soft floating cover, cinched at waist with a sweetheart neckline." The bride tore tissue in her hands to small bits and pieces. Pietro looked over her current dress, noticing that her description was the exact opposite of what she was wearing. "But no, he had to choose the gown. You know who does that?" She asked him, raising her teary eyes at where he stood unmoving, observing her with a curious expression on her face.

"An asshat that decides the last minute at the altar that he doesn't want to marry me and now I have to suffer through the celebration even though I'm not married." The last words were followed by a large sob as she buried her face in her hands.

Pietro cringed at the blubbering mess of a woman. He didn't mean go into a room with a hysteric bride. He was slowly growing restless after walking from one end of the hall to another, needing to let out steam and run. It was proving to be a boring mission acting as a mobile escape plan to Romanoff, who sauntered off to seduce information from some poor guy.

"And I ate fucking radishes all month to fit into this monstrosity. All month!" She shouted the last part at him. "I don't even like radishes." She said in a small voice, sniffling every now and then.

Pietro suppressed a smile at her. He moved across the fancy room, sitting in a huge chair that would have swallowed his frame, if he wasn't muscular.

"Radishes are a menace." He agreed with her quietly in English with heavy Sokovian accent.

She looked at him with surprise etched on her face.

"Ah, so the silver haired tuxedo speaks after all." She said before reaching behind her frilly dress and bringing a bottle of champagne to her lips.

"I don't know how I could have been that stupid and not see that coming." She complained after taking a swig from the bottle. "There were signs all over. Like once we were on a walk in forest, cause he wanted to go even though I have a pollen allergy. But I did. And it was after it rained so there were snails all over the path and I picked them most of them up and put them back into the grass so that they would not get crushed. And then I saw another one that was already dead and looked like a bad ramen noodles and it made me sad because I imagined in my head that they were heading to a family meeting after not seeing each other for a year." She paused, lifting the bottle to her lips once more and taking a hearty gulp.

Pietro watched her with an amused expression on his face, leaning forward in his chair.

"That's cute." He told her, looking at her blossoming blush with satisfaction.

"That's what he should have said. And yet he told me that it was really weird, that it creeped him out and that I should stop saying nonsense like that."

"And what about the others?" He asked her propping his chin in his hand.

The almost-bride frowned. "Others?" She asked confused, raising her blue eyes at him.

"The other snails that you didn't put to safety." He explained, snickering as she sneezed. Pietro realized that she had full on blossoming flower headband in her made hair that probably triggered her allergy.

"Well." She hesitated before continuing. "There was too much of them and I didn't want to bend down to pick every single one of them, I'm too lazy for that, so I let them at mercy of fate and thought it could be like in Hunger Games." She sneezed once more and drank form the bottle again. Though Pietro didn't have a clue what Hunger Games was, he didn't give a rat's ass about it now.

A moment of silence settled over them.

Pietro realized surprised that he managed to stay in the room with her for so long without feeling the need to disappear quickly. It happened very rarely. People amused him for only so long, but this girl was something different. But it could be on an account of the fact that her groom left her at the altar and that she was on a good way to get very drunk.

"You're so pretty." Pietro jumped back in the chair startled by the sudden proximity of the woman. She was staring into his face, a mere inches were separating them. He now had a very close view of her black cheeks, red eyes and messy lipstick. Her made-up hair was falling apart, tumbling down her neck in a mess of curls and flowers.

He watched without moving as she lifted a hand and drew it closer to his face.

"Boop." She whispered and touched his nose with a fingertip.

"Careful there, I might bite." He warned her with a roguish smirk.

Her eyes widened. "Ohh.. " She let out. Squinting her eyes, her hand found its way to his silver hair that was falling into his forehead. "You look like a bunny." She told him endearingly.

Pietro smirked, noticing how her pupils were dilated and her cheeks flushed. That bottle of champagne was quickly making its way into her head it seemed. "A bunny that bites?" He asked her, without leaning away from her hands. It's been way too long since someone played with his hair.

The bride pouted, making her lips fuller thinking about an answer.

"Well…" She contemplated, wiggling hands deeper into his hair. "Maybe you have rabies."

Pietro let out a laugh. "A rabies?" Feeling bold, he leaned into her face, their noses almost touching. "I hope you are immune then, cause sweetheart, I am in the mood to bite into something."

A loud sound of stomach rumbling could be heard in the room.

The bride blushed and retracted hands from his hair, wrapping them around her stomach. "I want a cake." She mumbled angrily under her breath.

"I think I could do something about that." Pietro told her standing up with the goal in his mind to steal the wedding cake, trying to shake of the feeling of her hands in his hair, when a voice came through the comm in his ear.

"Maximoff, we have a situation here. Meet me in the main hallway." Romanoff ordered and the comm grew quiet.

Pietro stood up sighing, opened the door without a word and stepped into corridor. He shut the door, but not before sending a wink to the bride that giggled happily at him, waving at him with an empty champagne bottle that appeared in her hand.

A second later he was leaning on a wall, next to Romanoff. The red headed assassin gave him an unimpressed face when his arrival blew hair into her eyes.

"Easy there, hot shot." Natasha said. "I'm in middle of processing the target. That moron would talk to anything that has breasts and that serum is just helping. He let the fact that the safe is here slip. He boasted about how it was going to make him filthy rich tomorrow morning when the trade is supposed to happen. We have to get hands of the device now or it will be too late." Pietro nodded at her, tugging on his bow tie. That damn thing was bugging the hell out of him.

"What now?" He asked her quietly as a waiter carrying a tray with gold rimmed flutes passed by. Pietro scoffed on the inside at the blatant display of wealth. Thank God that Stark had Pepper or Pietro would not be able to stay in the tower for very long.

"Create a commotion and get the civilians out. The safe is rigged and there are guard on this and also surrounding floors. We don't want this to get ugly. You get them out and I'll take care of our target." Natasha instructed, watching irritated as Pietro was bobbing head to an ABBA song that was playing through a stereo located above them.. "We are going to need possible back up guys. Be ready in 20. On my call." She murmured into the ear piece as she disappeared around the corner.

Pietro didn't waste a second and darted into the main hall that was full of people in tuxedos and heavy flashy gowns. With a quick look around the room, he spotted an older man smoking a cigarette. With a smirk and a second later, the man was now without said cigarette and Pietro after wafting smoke into smoke detectors, yelling in the most obnoxious voice he could muster up.

"Oh my god, fire!" He thought those people must have been deaf to not to hear the barely held in laugh and the poorly hidden accent, but they all stopped and then started rushing to the exit.

"This way ladies and gentleman." Pietro told the crowd as the women were skittering around him in high heels and gentlemen were hurrying to get out of the hall. The moment the sprinklers set in, all the people grew another set of legs and started rushing from the grand hall, leaving behind a mess of running champagne and smashed canapé. What a shame, he was getting hungry.

After the last person left the hall, Pietro closed the heavy door after him.

A set of heels clicking on the marble floor and another pair of shoes stumbling reached his ears. Turning around and tugging that bow tie from his neck, he saw Natasha with narrowed eyes and a smaller man with round belly and receding hairline that came to stop in the middle of the room.

"You ruined my hair." She told him coldly. Pietro gave her red wed tresses that were starting to stick to her forehead and curl a bland look. The Widow sighed. "Is everyone out?" She asked him.

"Done as instructed." Pietro said, wrapping the bow tie around his wrist. It look a lot better there than on his neck. That thing was suffocating him anyway.

"We have about a minute till the guards on this floor get here." With that said, the trio crossed the hall and entered into a hidden room behind a large painting that depicted a historical battlefield.

When the man was punching in the code and doing retinal scan, Pietro gave Natasha a strange look. "I may have not watched a lot of movies, but isn't this a bit stereotypical?" He asked her, crossing his muscled arms in front of his chest, his tuxedo straining at the move.

Natasha shrugged a shoulder at his observation, keeping her eyes at the man. "Be glad for that. At least it's easy. Still you first mission, remember? There shouldn't be much-", Natasha stopped herself there, firing over his shoulder. Pietro casually turned around watching a guard in black slumping to the floor. "- that could get screwed. Take care of the rest in hall." She told him, turning back to the man that was staring dumbly at the now opened door of the safe.

Pietro smirked and barely got the chance to whistle a song that got stuck in his head about some mamma mia, when he stopped in the middle of the hall to watch 5 guards slumped on the floor in various positions. He would have been probably grumpy by now at this mission, that was turning to be childishly easy, but surprisingly he was having fun.

"I though you said you didn't bite." A voice said from his right.

Pietro looked in that direction and couldn't help himself but to chuckle at the sight. The bride that he thought he left in that room, the one that should have been away from this floor was looking at him with her head propped on the white table, with a joined plastic figure of a bride and groom next to her hand and a piece of cake in the other.

He sauntered slowly to her, watching as her grin grew. "That wasn't biting. But I can show you how it's done." He told her suggestively, leaning against the table opposite of her.

Swallowing cake in her mouth, she grabbed the nearest flute and chugged down the contents. "I want your rabies." She mumbled to him, before biting into cake again.

"Did you leave any for me?" He asked her, gesturing to her cake.

"Don't be greedy. There are still four stories of it left." She said giving him a look. "Would you mind terribly if I had your bunnies?" She asked him, pointing the plastic figures at his chest before giggling to herself.

"Enjoying yourself Maximoff?"

"It's hilarious, Romanoff." He said, turning on heel. Natasha stood there with a medium sized black box under her arm, a gun in her hand and pissed expression on her face. Her hair that was before put into a sleek bun, was now in a curly disarray. Pietro winced at the sight. He was so going to pay for that later.

"I thought I told you to get everyone of the floor." She told him with a raised brow, her eyes focused at the figure behind him.

Pietro turned to look as well. The bride was now dancing with the figurine to a different song, with hair loosely around her shoulder, now without the allergy inducing flowers.

"Yeah." He drawled out. "That didn't really work out." He told her sheepishly, rubbing back of his neck. "What about the target?"

"Taken care of. Currently knocked out cold under a table. Thanks to the serum, he won't remember a thing tomorrow."

Natasha jerked her head in the direction of the door. "We have to go, the guards from other floors are closing in. Take her with you." And with that, she started walking towards the exit.

Pietro in flash appeared behind the bride, sneaking his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, hoisting her up. "Better hold on sweetheart, we're going for a ride." He told her before jogging after Natasha. He wasn't going to risk running at full speed with an inebriated bride that just had more champagne and cake. He wasn't stupid.

The woman gave a joyful laugh, snuggling into his arms, reaching a hand that wasn't holding the figurine to tickle him under chin. Pietro flinched at the contact and the woman giggled in delight at finding a weak spot on him. They were at the emergency staircase, when she started mumbling something and making upset noises.

Pietro looked down at her, slightly alarmed. Straining his ears, he made out what she was saying.

"I'm 25, that's not old… Don't have to be 17 just to be dancing queen.. if they only knew that I could bust a mean dance if I wanted to… Do you think I am not young and sweet, bunny?" She asked that last part out loud. The question reached Natasha too, as she was holding the door open for them. She gave the woman a curious look, eyes trained at her face.

Pietro looked at Natasha helplessly but she just shrugged her shoulders.

"But I want to be young and sweet and have bunnies with you." The bride announced, crossing arms on her chest, without a care in the world that she was in Pietro's arms.

Natasha suddenly grasped the bride's wrist, counting silently. "Did she drink any champagne in the hall?" She asked him, releasing her wrist.

"Yes, why are you asking?" Pietro asked, giving her a strange look not knowing where she was heading with that question.

"Well, hotshot, I think it's you who should get ready-"

"When I was six I farted in a bath and called myself Miss Rainbow, since it sounded like Miss Rimbaud anyway."

"- for a ride."

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Yeah, it's not like finals are in a week and I am procrastinating now by writing two fics in one day. No problema.

Pietro shouldn't have died. I am in a serious denial right now, like with Phil after the first Avengers. And I am sure that we can bring him back.

As always, sorry for mistakes, reviews make me happy.

Bye, bye