Strange night

You woke to the sound of your phone buzzing madly. Your heart was pounding, your throat burning, and you had a crushing headache. You swung your legs out of the bed, your skin breaking into goosebumps, misjudged the vigor of your movement and landed on the floor. The world was spinning. You somehow managed to grope for your phone on the nightstand, but the caller had obviously already decided you were not home.

Which you weren't. Because this was not your home, or the facility, or New York, it was...

Las Vegas. Now you remembered. The team had decided to celebrate your latest victory over HYDRA and all the birthdays in the last months, when everybody had been too busy to do so. So, you had decided to spend a few days in the most fabulous city of the States.

That was how much you knew. You had spent the last three days cruising around with the team, lacking Vision, who stayed at the facility, Rhodey, who was on some top secret missing person case, and Bruce Banner, who you had still not met yet. Last night was an enigma though. You had never been a lot into drinking, so how did you manage to get so wasted? From the point of Clint proposing to stop at some random bar, your memory was a blank.

There was a murmur and a groan on the bed. You struggled into a sitting position and rested your chin on the edge of the bed. Pietro raised his head, blinking at you with reddened eyes. He looked like a sleepy owl that had been dragged through a ceiling fan. His silver-black hair stood in all directions. "Good morning," he murmured in Sokovian.

"More like good afternoon," you replied, somehow managing to drag your aching body onto the bed and dropping your phone back on the nightstand. It was four pm, it said. What the hell had you been doing? Hopefully nothing the others would bug you with forever. Thor had probably not been sober, but he was a demi-god, so to get him shitfaced drunk was next to impossible I this realm. Steve couldn't become drunk at all. That had to suck. The others were a wholly different matter. So maybe you had gotten off well.

Pietro tried to sit up and grinned that goofy smile at you. Even now, when you had to look like a bird that had the misfortune to meet a jet engine, he was goddamn handsome. Might also be due to the fact that he was not wearing a shirt. How could you possibly be so lucky to get him of all people? He wrapped his arms around you and you could lean against his firm chest. Better. You might both need a shower, though.

"What did we do last night?", you asked.

"Don't know," he murmured. You were still feeling dizzy, but Pietro couldn't be drunk anymore. His metabolism was some three or four times (or more, you couldn't remember) faster than those of an average human. So why could he get drunk and Steve not? It was a mystery.

"Mhm," you said and brushed your fingers over his stubble, which was slightly more than just that right now. He smiled idly. Your wedding ring blinked softly in the light.

Wait. What?

You jerked upright, staring at the narrow silver trinket on your finger. Pietro protested with a growl and rolled on the side. "What's wrong?", he asked in Sokovian.

You didn't answer, but pulled his left hand to you, making him lose his balance. His face hit the mattress, followed by another offended grumble. He was wearing the same ring, narrow and silver. You carefully took off yours. It fit you, but barely. Then again, your fingers looked a bit swollen anyway, probably from the drinking last night.

You found a tiny inscription on the inside.

Pietro & Olli – forever yours

You stared at it, speechless. Then somebody wrapped around you and Pietro rested his head in your lap. "Something wrong?", he asked again. You put on the ring again, not sure what else to do with it, and stared into space for a moment. "Pietro, what do you remember about last night?"

"We went into that bar, it was called... Hot Shots? Was Clint's idea. We drank and chatted and Steve looked a bit angry because he couldn't get in the good mood and... I think Wanda and the others did a karaoke contest?"
"And after that?" Whatever rest of alcohol was in your system, it had suddenly lost its effect. And you were not hungover anymore.

"Don't know, I guess we got back to the hotel?" You looked around. That was your room, alright. At least something.

"You sure we didn't make some... spontaneous stop?", you asked. You pushed him off you, earning yourself a hurt look, and began rummaging through your bag. Your wallet. You opened it and found a brand-new passport from the state of Nevada on the name of Olli Maximoff. The picture was a few weeks old, a little portrait you had a photographer make for a new passport. Yours was expiring soon. Looked like that problem was solved.

Too flustered to think anything about this whole affair, you dug out a paper. It was a license from a Las Vegas church for speed weddings. That explained a lot. You dropped on your butt and stared at the cream-colored wall. You and your boyfriend of half a year, which was maybe a month less the time you had known him at all, were married.

You jumped when there was a knock on the door. Pietro was already opening it by the time you checked if you had marginally decent clothing on you. Yes. Pietro's shirt, which was way too big, but had the advantage of covering everything.

"You," you could hear Clint's voice. He didn't sound thrilled. You staked over to the door on legs that seemed a bit too shaky for your taste. "Hi Clint," you said, which turned into a yawn.

"Agent Oliver," he said. Hawkeye looked just as disheveled and tired as you felt, but at least he had obviously taken a shower and put on fresh clothes. "Or wait, Agent Maximoff now, right? Did you, whatsitcalled, consummate your new bond?"

Your jaw dropped at that. You would have expected something like this from Thor, who categorically never kept quiet about what he wanted to know, but Clint? The guy with three kids and the most normal of all Avengers? Then you realized what this meant.
"You know about it?"

"Sure. We were there." He looked puzzled. "Uh... Am I right we have a problem here?"

"Yeah!", you exclaimed. "The problem is I don't remember shit about last night. The last of which is the little fact that Pietro and I are married all of a sudden."

"You thought it was a good idea," Pietro said, giving you his big blue puppy eyes. Clint made a step backwards.

"Whoa. Okay, you two get finished, we're calling in an action committee. Steve will know what's going on."

"What, because he's Captain America?", Pietro asked in a mocking voice.

"He was the only sober one of us," Clint replied with a shrug and a glare to the Sokovian.

Still flustered, you went inside and waited for Pietro to shut the door. Then you cast off the shirt and your panties and climbed into the shower, washing off sweat and dirt and whatever rests of the night before. You were standing with your eyes closed, rinsing out shampoo in your hair, when you heard the shower door open and then a strong, warm body pressed against yours.

"Are you unhappy, dear?", Pietro asked.

"I'm confused," you said. "We are here for partying, then I wake up and we're married? That's like some bad movie plot."

"And you're the beautiful female protagonist." He brushed through your hair to rid it of the last shampoo. You leaned against his chest.

"And you're the hot guy. That's not the point. We've known each other for like six months."

Pietro hesitated, then let go and groped for the soap or something like that. You wiped water out of your eyes and stood there for a moment, watching. He looked disappointed.

"How drunk were you really last night?"

"Can't tell if I don't remember," he replied quietly, completely focused on cleaning himself.

"Speedy, what's wrong?"

He shrugged his shoulders. You frowned. That men never could open up. "Dude, we're standing in the freaking shower, that's the place for a deep conversation. Was it because I said we don't know each other for long?"

Another shrug. "Wouldn't you like to be with me?" Next thing you knew, you were in his arms again, water pouring down on the two of you, soap running down. How the hell did he manage not to fall on the wet tiles at that speed?

"I am with you, Pietro. Right now." You kissed him and he picked you up. "It's really not that. I swear. But as I said, a few things should be taken more slowly. Oh, don't do those puppy eyes again." He smirked at you and you couldn't help laughing. "I just think... it should have been more romantic. You know what I mean?"

"Mh-mh," Pietro said with a solemn nod. You ruffled his hair. It was sticky.

"Okay, we gotta do something about that." He set you down. You turned away to get the shampoo. Yours, to be exact. Well, then he would smell of raspberries for a day. His problem. You liked it and also insisted on washing his hair. It was wonderfully soft after it was clean again. What the hell had you been doing last night?

Pietro looked like he was going to say something, but you got out of the shower and started drying yourself. He did the same and you both got dressed.

"Really, speedy, look at that water trail," you said. "Somebody's gonna fall." Which would probably be you. "You know, since we're married now anyway, we have to go on a honeymoon." You smiled about the thought of going to somewhere exotic like Tahiti or rather mundane like Europe... maybe not Sokovia though.

"I was going to ask you anyway, you know?", Pietro said in a tiny voice. You froze, one hand half outstretched to get your hairbrush.

"What?"

"Olli, I... wanted to ask you if you would be my wife. Wanda told me I should wait, it was too early, and I didn't know how to do it, so..."

"Was this some kind of arrangement, getting me drunk?" You were talking without thinking.

"No!", Pietro exclaimed, obviously offended. "I'd never do that."

"I know," you said, shaking your head. This was all so weird. You heard the door slam, accompanied by a gust of wind. You shook your head with a smile and finished brushing your hair. The next moment the door was opened again. You turned around to your boyfriend... now husband, holding out a rose to you.

"It's a bit late now for that, but do you... do you want to try?" You couldn't help to press one hand to your mouth, tears welling in your eyes. No matter how fucked up this had started, it was still beautiful.

"Olli Maximoff," you said, unable to suppress a big smile. "That sounds damn good, don't you think?" He looked at you, waiting for a Yes or No, his blue eyes pleading. You jumped into his arms, careful not to destroy the rose. "Of course I want to."

"Where do you want to go. Tahiti? Something cooler?"

"Well, actually we got to meet the others first. I want to know what my wedding looked like." He looked disappointed, but nodded. You put on shoes, then a hoodie to cover your still wet hair. At the door, you turned. "Pietro, can you get my phone? Should be in the bathroom."

"Sure." A silver-blue swirl. A blink later he fell for you. Directly in front of your feet. He blinked up at you. You shook your head, grinning. "Told you we shouldn't leave water on the floor."

You woke to the sound of your phone buzzing madly. Your heart was pounding, your throat burning, and you had a crushing headache. You swung your legs out of the bed, your skin breaking into goosebumps, misjudged the vigor of your movement and landed on the floor. The world was spinning. You somehow managed to grope for your phone on the nightstand, but the caller had obviously already decided you were not home.

That somehow seemed pretty familiar. Then again, you had always dreamed weird things, even before Wanda worked on that. Why were you thinking about that anyway? It was months ago. She was more or less fine with your relationship with Pietro. You had even become friends of some sort. Maybe it was because the twins had really become a part of the team, despite Pietro and Clint always pretending to hate each other and playing pranks whenever they could.

"Good morning," a sleepy voice said on the bed. You managed to get on the mattress again and fell directly into Pietro's arms. You kissed him and wondered why the hell this all felt so weird. Maybe that was because you were hungover from Tony's party last night. After Las Vegas was canceled because Laura wanted to be with her husband (or rather check on him), Tony had just announced the party was going to be in the Avengers tower. So... now you were in Pietro's room. Fine as well.

He kissed your neck. "You alright?"

"I'm good," you murmured. "What happened last night?" You had a weird feeling. For some reason you checked your hand for a ring, but there was none. Of course not. You scarcely wore jewelry.

"The others thought it was a good idea to get you drunk. So I got you into bed. I bet Barton was happy to get rid of me. That was all his plan."

You grinned, but sighed at the same time. "Oh come on, he's not some evil mastermind. Besides, his wife was there." At the mention of that, Pietro looked nervous for a moment. Or maybe it was your vision blurring. "Hey, listen, I'm going to get a shower, okay?"

You got up and winked at him before disappearing into the bathroom. You took your time, washing your hair and everything twice, but he didn't show up. Irritated, you went out of the bathroom to dress and found a note.

There's a meeting in the "community room". Take your time.

Love, Pietro

You took your time to wonder why he had signed with his whole name. He had never done that, not until now. Even the handwriting was a lot more carefully done than usual. That was completely out of character for your impatient speedster. You dried your hair and dressed and made sure you looked presentable. If anybody except Vision and Wanda saw you.

You made your way down to the so-called community room, or "I actually want t be social"-room, as Clint called it. Pietro hadn't lied. Everybody was there. They were sitting on the sofas, chatting. Pietro and Wanda were talking like they were conspiring something. She nudged Pietro and he sped away. All of a sudden you knew that Wanda had poked into your head last night. For some reason you didn't remember. You didn't even remember your dream, but this pissed you off. You would confront her about that. Now.

You walked past the others, headed straight at Wanda. But Vision blocked your way. "Good morning," he said to you. "Lucyna Oliver."

You sighed, but had to smile. He was always very nice, a strange kind of nice. "Olli, as always. Good morning." Now the others had seen you as well and the room was quiet. Too quiet for your taste. You didn't check if everybody was staring at you, because you didn't want to know. You'd just blush again. You already did.

"Wanda, have a word, please?", you said loudly. She actually winced. What? You walked past Vision to her. Before you could even start, she preempted you. Instead of talking, she just waved a hand past your eyes.

I'm sorry. Don't tell Pietro, you'll understand soon.

For a moment you just stared at her in confusion. Then somebody cleared his throat behind you. Everybody was staring at you, you knew that, and you hated it. Why did you have the feeling you should know what would happen next?

You had fought battles in these past months, experiencing more than you had ever dreamed of. But you had to gather all your courage to turn around. There were whispers among the other Avengers, until Wanda shut them up with a hiss. You didn't even know how she had gotten over there.

Pietro was down on one knee, radiating nervousness. He held out a small gray box to you. The narrow silver ring shone in the electric lights. "Olli..." He cleared his throat. "Lucyna Oliver, would you like to be my wife?"