SLOW DOWN // X-MEN // PETER MAXIMOFF × READER

☆ Chapted 7 ☆

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~Back to the story~
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The building looked neat enough. Inside the diner, soft lights of yellow filled the space with hints of neon emitting from the light-up signs on the walls. One of them had an ice cream cone, another with a pizza, and a third one that had a cup of coffee with steam sifting above it. Peter eyed them as they walked by to sit at the booth next to a window.

   "Don't even think about it," warned (Y/n).

   Peter's heart skipped, but he wouldn't let himself show it. "Pft, what are you talking about?" She couldn't read his thoughts, right?

   "I don't have to be able to read your mind to know what you were thinking," she laughed. She grabbed a menu off the side and flipped through. "I saw you looking at the signs."

   He nervously laughed it off. "So, you were looking at me?" Peter gave a cheeky smile as he leaned on his elbows against the table top, his head placed on his hands.

   (Y/n) rolled her eyes and clarified. "Only because I was trying to practice how to decode that mess in your head!" She reached over and flicked his forehead with her index finger, sending Peter to sit back in his seat.

   "You still can't hear my thoughts, huh?" He grinned. "And without me knowing? Wow, alright, you have my permission to try right now." He knew she couldn't and, to add onto its difficulty, he purposefully filled his head with nonsense. "Go ahead."

   (Y/n) tried for a second, closing her eyes only to tap out quickly. "Yeah, nope, not happening; I'm already getting a major headache." She fell back into the cushion of her seat.

   "Not only did you try to pry through my head without me knowing, but now, after given full approval, you insult me by saying I give you a headache? Ouch."

She smiled through her throbbing headache and nudged her head to send a pink packet of sweetener flying into the air at Peter. Though, it was a weak toss of the mind, slow enough for him to easily catch it.

   "Tsk, nice try," he smiled. "But you know I could've gotten that a mile away, right?"

   (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, it was worth the try." She chuckled before looking around the room. "Where's he at anyway? I can tell he's here even if I'm not reading him right now...?"

   Confused, Peter perked up. "Who?"

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Rubin was in the back of the kitchen washing and drying the plates. The water moved over his hands with soap and pieces of left overs from the meals. It disgusted him.

   He faked a gag and decided it was time to take a break. "I'm taking my fifteen right now, alright?" He shouted, wiping his hands dry.

   "Yeah, sure, I'll take booth number seven's order for you," said the manager.

Rubin threw his towel off to the side to look through the kitchen's window. His stomach turned. There she was, sitting where she and her dad usually sat- except there was someone else in his seat. Who was he?

   The server kept his eyes on the two customers. Without turning away, he called again. "On second thought, I'll go on break later after taking care of table seven."