Sleepwalking - 3 - { quicksilver x reader }

You already knew it was going to be a weird day when you woke up to your mother throwing your curtains open.

“Mae, it’s nearly ten! You need to get up, kiddo, or the day is gonna pass you by.”

Head swimming with sleep and the faint imprints of a silvery dream behind your eyes, you slowly blinked them open, squinting at the fresh morning light.

“Ten?” you repeated blearily. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I left you breakfast wrapped up on the counter. I have to meet my boss today and get started, so I’ll be back around five, hopefully. Annie is playing in the front right now, be sure to keep an eye on her. Get as much unpacked as you can today.”

“Sure thing,” you grumbled, trying to wake up. “Have a good day.”

Mom swept over and kissed your cheek hard and gave you a quick hug before saying, “You too. Bye.” and leaving.

Wow. Ten. Sure enough, you glanced at you clock and it read 9:57 a.m. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept in this long. And then the previous night filtered back into your mind, and you were very, very awake.

Your hands tingled absently as you remembered shaking his, listening to him tell you his name. Flustered, you shook your head and slid out of bed. No wonder you slept in. You ran a mile. You weren’t out of shape by any means, but you certainly didn’t run regularly. And on cue, your thighs ached the moment you stretched your legs out to stand.

“Ughhh,” you groaned, wiggling your toes and pushing your hair out of your face. “Gross...”

The first thing in order was a shower. Annie was outside — a quick glance out the window showed her in an outfit that didn’t match with fairy wings on, and she had her dolls in a circle on a blanket as she spoke to them — so you left your pants on the floor and just snatched some clothes from your dresser before heading for the bathroom.

One of the pros of the new house was that the piping had just been fixed, and the water pressure was amazing. Your old house had two bathrooms, both of which had a flimsy shower head and water that came at scarcely more than a trickle. That, and the hot water lasted maybe ten minutes. But the bathroom here steamed up in a minute flat, and you sighed dreamily as you soaked yourself in the hot downpour, feeling much more human by the second.

You lingered longer than you usually did, just relishing the newfound sanctuary of your house as you leaned against the pink tiles with your eyes shut until you felt completely at ease. You went through the motions afterwards — half-heartedly dry your hair, ignore the mirror entirely, pull on clothes (today’s ensemble was a partially-striped t-shirt and cut-offs) — and then plunked down at the wooden table in the dining room to eat.

You were always terribly grateful that even though your mom worked, she always got up in time to make breakfast for you and Annie. Grandpa had been a nutritionist, and implored on her to never skip breakfast, since it got your metabolism going for the day, and she had taken it to heart. So you skimmed the comics in the newspaper, chugged orange juice, and savored some very perfect blueberry pancakes.

Just as you finished and were heading to the sink with your plate, the front door slid open with some difficulty, and you saw your little red-headed monster peer in.

“Mae!” she yelled, beaming from ear to ear. “Hi! Good morning! Mommy made pancakes!”

She was perfect and infectious, and you grinned as you replied kindly, “Yes, I know. I just had them. What are you doing out there?”

Annie made to come inside, but her fairy wings hit the door frame and she gave up quickly. “I’m having a banket. It’s where... you have a lot of people, and they eat food on a blanket. Like in a castle.”

‘Banket?’ you questioned. But it all clicked together rapidly, and you had to turn away to make sure you didn’t break down into tears of laughter.

“O-oh,” you stammered, hurrying to put your plate in the sink and not guffaw at her. “You mean a banquet, yeah?”

“Yes. A banket.”

“Ban-quet. There’s a ‘kw’ sound there in the middle.”

“Ban... quet?”

“Yup! There you go. I’m gonna start unpacking, but you can knock on my window if you need anything.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Will you play with me later?”

Considering you really didn’t have anything else to do (your mind flickered with images of a broad smile, dark eyes, monochrome hair, and you quickly shoved them down, along with the tightening of your stomach), you replied, “Sure thing. Be good.”

The door shut, and you sighed before heading to brush your teeth and continue the unpacking process.

——

While packing was a little therapeutic, it was also dull and carried a weight of melancholy with it. With each item that came out of the box, you had to deal with all the memories that came with them. Eventually, you unearthed your Walkman, which was a huge relief. The headphones were still attached and in working condition, and you gladly slid them on your ears before clicking play.

Crocodile Rock started up immediately, and you spurned into action. The boxes that had been an intimidating pile were suddenly a challenge. You glanced at the clock — 11:46. You put your hands on your hips and smirked at the boxes, deciding on 1:00 as a goal. Then, you could bring in Annie for lunch, and play outside with her after her nap.

The mixtape you had was a blessing. After Crocodile Rock, you were treated to Wouldn’t It Be Nice?, some Elvis, Ella Fitzgerald...

You danced. You sang. You probably looked very stupid, but it didn’t matter, because you flat-out had fun, and laughed, and when it was over you felt a little silly but had a pile of empty boxes and a tidy room.

“Heeeeeck yeah,” you sing-songed proudly as you took the headphones off and turned around once to admire your work. Your toes wriggled on the woven, patched up rug you’d had for years, and decided it didn’t look half-bad. Maybe once you had stuff on the walls it would really come together.

Then you remembered you hadn’t checked on your sister in an hour.

“Oh shit, Annie!”

You rushed to your window and were relieved to see her rolling around in the grass. But then you did a double-take — there were definitely two children there. Another girl who was wearing a very wrinkled princess dress and looked to be just around Annie’s age. One of the neighbor’s kids, you guessed?

She looked nice enough, though, and they weren’t fighting, which was always a good sign. Maybe Annie would have a friend. The thought was sweet, and you enthusiastically went to the front door.

It was getting hot out, though at least it wasn’t nightmarishly bad. You were met with shrieking squeals that could only be produced by young girls, and smiled wryly before you could help it.

“Annie Marie, who’s your friend?” you called out, stepping onto the porch.

Both girls stopped, panting and looking very dirty and sweaty, but still twitching with giggles. Annie sputtered, using her palms and elbows to try and get her stray hairs out of her face before shouting, “This is Polly and she is also a princess!”

You covered your mouth with your hand, silently shaking with your laughter. “Okay,” you said, uncovering your mouth only to speak. “Hi Polly. I’m Maisy. It’s nice to meet you.”

Polly, bless her heart, cleared her throat and gave a lopsided curtsy that revealed her shorts and t-shirt under the dress. “Hi Maisy,” she said in a small voice.

She was downright precious and you had the urge to squeeze her.

“Polly lives next door,” Annie blurted out. She pointed enthusiastically at... At the Maximoff house.

You gaped for a moment in total shock as that tidbit of information processed, then snapped out of it. “Um,” you said cautiously. “Is... Peter your big brother?”

The little princess named Polly gasped, and then went wide-eyed, nodding frantically. “Uh-huh! Yeah! He’s ten years older than me—” She held out both of her hands to display ten very dirty fingers. “—And he plays a lot of games, and he’s really, really, really good at them!”

Stunned, you managed to say, “Th-that’s pretty cool.” And she seemed all too happy to continue.

Making sure not to trip over her dress, she took Annie’s hand and together they scrambled up to the porch steps you had just sunk onto, elbows on your knees and chin on your hands in a daze.

“Peter’s really smart,” she went on hurriedly, and you absently noted that her eyes were a pretty blue-green that reminded you of water lilies. “He solves math problems really fast, so, so he has to help me with my math homework sometimes. And he plays princess with me, but he doesn’t like putting dresses on as much anymore.”

...Oh. My. God.

Your cheeks burned with hysterics that you stamped down immediately, and your heart thumped far too fast in your chest. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to scoop Polly into your arms and hug her, and then Peter afterwards for being a stupendous older sibling.

“I-is that s-so?” You managed to sputter politely. Polly nodded, all serious, and Annie was laughing wildly.

“Your brother wears DRESSES?!” She was trying to catch her breath, and you were inwardly glad she seemed to find it charming instead of gross. “How do they fit?! He should play with us! Maisy is gonna play with me later, so— oh, um, is it okay if Polly plays with us, too?” Annie’s attention shifted to you at the end, and you thought it over in an awkward rush: princess tea party banquet with Annie, Peter, and Peter’s little sister. Peter potentially in a dress.

Peter in a dress?

It was too good to be true.

“I would be honored,” you replied solemnly, bowing your head in the royal respect that your sister would have demanded anyway. Annie was positively beaming when you looked up again. She grabbed your hand, and shook it sloppily.

“Okay, good,” she said. “You promised. Polly, let’s go ask your brother!”

Polly smiled cheekily, and sang, “Okay, let’s go to my house!”

But, you remembered responsibly why you came out in the first place. Apologetic, you said: “Hold on, now... It’s Annie’s lunchtime.”

Annie went from firecracker to wet blanket in .001 seconds flat. She looked horrified.

“What?!” she cried. “I can’t yet! Maisy, we have to invite Polly’s brother or—”

“Or what?” You rolled your eyes and reached for her scrawny arm. “He’s not going anywhere, Ann. Here, how about this: Princess Polly, if it’s okay with your mom and dad, you can have lunch here. We’re making PB&J sandwiches with sliced apples.”

Annie outrage was immediately forgotten. Polly went slack-jawed.

“Really?” they said, obviously in disbelief. You smiled vigorously and nodded.

“Yes, really.”

Polly and Annie turned their heads simultaneously at each other, making very important eye contact where they exchanged silent information. Then, just like that, they were screaming with joy and rocketing down the steps towards the sidewalk.

“WE’LL BE RIGHT BACK MAISY!”

“ANNIE, BE CAREFUL ON THE SIDEWALK! DON’T HURT YOURSELF!” You yelled back. You were sure she didn’t listen, but just rolled your eyes and went inside to work on the sandwiches.

Lunch was easy, and the apples were cut, sandwiches were made, and plates were out in a few short minutes. You had just finished arranging the food on the plates when you heard the front door open, and the sound of smaller footsteps coming inside.

“Hi Maisy!” Annie greeted. “Polly’s mommy said it was okay! And she said thank you.”

Fleetingly, you wondered what Mrs. Maximoff was like. You had a feeling ‘stressed’ might be a good guess.

After the three of you finished off your plates, you were happy to see their eyelids drooping and their movements turning a little sluggish.

“Annie, Polly,” you said gently, “I think it’d be best if you took a nap. Is that okay with your mom?”

Polly blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “She said I can stay until dinner.”

You nodded. “Alright then. Naptime for Team Fairy Princess. Up we go.”

They must have been amazingly tuckered out, for you were able to pull them into your arms with zero protest. Annie might’ve been asleep on your shoulder before you made it to her room. Once you were in, you balanced on one foot and used the other to pull her covers back, and then awkwardly eased them into the bed.

“Sleep tight,” you whispered as they sleepily scrounged up the covers and passed out. You heart swelled up so much it almost hurt, and you briskly left the room to let them sleep.

But as soon as the door shut, you realized that that was that. You had nothing to do at all. The boxes were unpacked, the kitchen was clean, the girls (you felt a sweet twinge at that phrase, and secretly hoped you’d get to keep using it) were knocked out for at least half an hour.

‘...But What about Peter?’ a quiet voice offered in your head. You nearly choked, and quickly tried to think of something else, but... you couldn’t quite get rid of the feeling of temptation it brought.

So you stood there in the hall, chewing on your lip and gazing fitfully at the front door. You weighed your options carefully, and tried to be reasonable.

For one, you didn’t even know if he was home. And also, the idea of visiting the Maximoff’s uninvited seemed impolite and 100% nerve-wracking. Plus, you weren’t about to leave the girls home alone.

“Well that settles that, I guess,” you mumbled a little forlornly. You wandered into the dining room and checked the kitchen clock — only 2:00. Three hours till Mom got home.

And you wondered what Peter Maximoff was doing.