You and Pietro have been having problems lately. Between your stubbornness and his childish behavior, it was only a matter of time before one of you blew up on the other for something small. Case and point: Pietro left his running sneakers out on the table. Again.

"Pietro!" you shout, looking around your shared apartment. "You left your damn sneakers out again!"

A whoosh of air comes by you, and suddenly the shoes are gone. In their place is a smug Pietro. "What shoes?"

You place your hands on your hips, anger growing by the minute. "Don't 'what shoes' me. This is the fifth time this week! Is it too much to ask of you to put those filthy things in your shoe bin after you take a run? Put them somewhere I can't see. It's not rocket science!"

Pietro rolls his eyes, smirking at you. "Make me."

"You want me to make you, huh? How about I catch your shoes on fire?"

Pietro frowns. "You are a bitch."

"Damn right." You walk around him to grab the shoes he holds behind his back. "Next time, make sure I can't get them back."

-

One day later...

-

After a long night of not talking to each other, a morning of the same, Pietro goes jogging. After he returns, he leaves his shoes on the table. "That's it." You toss them into the trash.

After showering, you head to your closet to pick out your clothes. As soon as you open the doors, you see something very wrong. The rack of shoes that lines your wall is empty. "Pietro!"

A breeze of air rushes into the room. "What? You said to put them somewhere you couldn't see them. Ta da! I have done just that." Then, as quick as he came, he's gone.

"Pietro Django Maximoff!"