The fun thing about dreams, Wanda— [he starts, pausing a moment as he feels her chin atop his head; wah, sooo heavy] —is that they are so random that they will surprise me in a good way because I am not planning them.
[he pats the arms interlocked over his chest.]
I can write a list of ideas though. Throw them into a magic randomizer blender for ultimate surprise.
I'm not giving you naughty dreams about Sports Illustrated models.
[She squeezes him tightly.]
Have you been having bad dreams?
[No shame in it. The both of them were plagued by nightmares after their apartment was bombed, and there's only been more fuel for them since. Some of her strongest memories from their childhood was waking up sweating, in a panic, tears streaming down her face--and crying against Pietro until she could sleep again.]
I have very good imagination, I do not need "naughty dreams" [yes, air quotes and all] for semblance of private time. I have more manners than that.
[and wanda should know as much. anyway—]
Bad dreams? Worst I had so far was failing fourth grade math test. I could not figure out multiplication tables. Then a lunchbox ate me whole and I was rolling forever in a desert made of marshmallow.
[a quick shake of his head, almost as if to show his desperation of said reminder of a bad dream. he grabs one of her hands, though, and presses a kiss to her knuckles.
nah, he's not gonna share with her if he's been having bad dreams.]
[hmm... isn't that a little too loaded with an undertone of imminent something? oh well, it certainly catches pietro a little off-guard, as his hand tightens on his sister's hands for a moment.
truths, truths. hm. hmmm.]
Eh.
[he sniffles, making a gesture of one annoyed older brother, hoping to push her and her mushiness away without really putting a lot of effort into it.]
[he rests his head against a hand, elbow on the table as he basically just slumps over. magic cooking is nice because it's quick, and honestly, if it means he doesn't have to help with the washing...
This is starting to sound like HYDRA-sponsored interrogation.
[as if they ever got it easy when they were under hydra's control. thankfully (for him), he sees the dirty rag and easily moves out of the way. he doesn't catch it not because he doesn't love her, but because he simply can't be bothered.]
Maybe pistachio?
[he's not really thinking of the flavor—he's not got a favorite. casually restores his obnoxiously-calm seating position on his chair.]
[The food will be ready whenever Pietro complains enough. Yay, magic. Wanda frowns at him not picking up the rag because she is not their mother, and yet... there will still be pistachio and cherry ice cream (SWIRLED) in the freezer for him.]
Gross? Gross for what? Pistachio and cherry is perfectly fine combination.
[or was it because of the rag... he, very obviously, glances behind him, an arm over the top support of the chair, and gives a long, hard stare at the rag—like he's surprised it's still there.]
You know, sometimes it is hard to believe we are twins. I am never this sloppy. [the joke is that he isn't a super clean person either— but, just to prove a point(?), pietro stands up and picks up the rag before wanda can magic-whisk it away form the floor. he even folds it very neatly.] Have you considered having guests?
[The real answer? No. This place was never meant for anyone but herself. She likes it better now, with Pietro here, but that's it. If anything, it makes her less inclined to reach out to anyone else she might know, because how is she supposed to explain this?]
[why is she SO embarrassed about pietro?? he huffs and shakes his head, grinning as he sets the folded towel on the kitchen counter.]
I am just your special little secret.
[he jests about it, though. going back to taking a seat, he props his feet up on the chair across from him, from under the table, and gets comfortable.]
it is a terrible answer to the question, and it pulls at pietro's more protective, big brother instincts to want to question it. but she busies herself by looking elsewhere, keeps busy with something small, and he can't help but think he already knows the answer.
hasn't he always, though? they're twins—and for as much as there's been time and distance keeping them apart, they've always known what is in each other's hearts and minds.]
Then I wish you were more honest with me.
[because it's different, to know something without words being said and to actually be told those words. sometimes, just sometimes, he needs to hear things—the same way wanda may need to hear things, too. which is why he picks himself up from where he is and walks over to her, by the counter, and puts his hand over the one she uses to wipe down the counter, effectively stopping the motion.]
I could never judge you, or think wrong of you. We are the same. [—and it hurts, when he thinks that they may not be, despite their history—] And if something is going on, I want to be here, [he brings up her hand, puts it between both of his own, pressed against his chest] to know and be ready, so I can make sure we will both be okay.
[It was a response meant to get a reaction, get his attention, but now that it's on her she finds she doesn't like it. Wanda squeezes her eyes shut, because if she has one weakness left in the world it's him. She lost everything, but she has this one thing back, and he knows how to peel at her layers. Even the new ones she's put on since she lost him.]
It's not that simple anymore, Pietro. You've been out of the game for a long time.
[And was barely in it. An Avenger for less than a day. She's had to learn to be stronger.]
But that is not reason to say I cannot understand.
[it certainly is disheartening to hear his own sister, his confidant, the other half of his soul since before birth tell him that he's probably not qualified to make things right.
is it fair at all? he feels frustrated, because he wants to be more, just so she won't have to be in this pain that she, undoubtedly, is in. he huffs, rubbing hard at his eyes in annoyance.]
I cannot just say on the sidelines and wait for the world to decide what is next. I'm your older brother. It's my job to protect you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[he pats the arms interlocked over his chest.]
I can write a list of ideas though. Throw them into a magic randomizer blender for ultimate surprise.
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[She squeezes him tightly.]
Have you been having bad dreams?
[No shame in it. The both of them were plagued by nightmares after their apartment was bombed, and there's only been more fuel for them since. Some of her strongest memories from their childhood was waking up sweating, in a panic, tears streaming down her face--and crying against Pietro until she could sleep again.]
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[and wanda should know as much. anyway—]
Bad dreams? Worst I had so far was failing fourth grade math test. I could not figure out multiplication tables. Then a lunchbox ate me whole and I was rolling forever in a desert made of marshmallow.
[a quick shake of his head, almost as if to show his desperation of said reminder of a bad dream. he grabs one of her hands, though, and presses a kiss to her knuckles.
nah, he's not gonna share with her if he's been having bad dreams.]
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She dips her head to be able to press a hard kiss to his temple.]
We'll both tell one another the truth in time.
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truths, truths. hm. hmmm.]
Eh.
[he sniffles, making a gesture of one annoyed older brother, hoping to push her and her mushiness away without really putting a lot of effort into it.]
Magic cooking today?
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Always magic cooking.
[But lasagna is easy. Layers and layers, though the ingredients just all happen to be there as she heads to the counter to begin.]
What about dessert? We can have something when we wake up.
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he's not about to complain.]
Ice cream? Would be nice.
[a simple man, hashtag it]
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Okay, but what kind of ice cream, Pietro?
[She dribbled some sauce on the counter. After wiping it up, she throws the rag at him because she loves him.]
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[as if they ever got it easy when they were under hydra's control. thankfully (for him), he sees the dirty rag and easily moves out of the way. he doesn't catch it not because he doesn't love her, but because he simply can't be bothered.]
Maybe pistachio?
[he's not really thinking of the flavor—he's not got a favorite. casually restores his obnoxiously-calm seating position on his chair.]
Oh, or cherry.
[wanda can pick up the rag with her magic!!]
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You are so gross.
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[or was it because of the rag... he, very obviously, glances behind him, an arm over the top support of the chair, and gives a long, hard stare at the rag—like he's surprised it's still there.]
You know, sometimes it is hard to believe we are twins. I am never this sloppy. [the joke is that he isn't a super clean person either— but, just to prove a point(?), pietro stands up and picks up the rag before wanda can magic-whisk it away form the floor. he even folds it very neatly.] Have you considered having guests?
SLAMS BACK IN
[The real answer? No. This place was never meant for anyone but herself. She likes it better now, with Pietro here, but that's it. If anything, it makes her less inclined to reach out to anyone else she might know, because how is she supposed to explain this?]
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I am just your special little secret.
[he jests about it, though. going back to taking a seat, he props his feet up on the chair across from him, from under the table, and gets comfortable.]
It feels like you are very much a fugitive?
[and yes—that is a question.]
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[That's a terrible answer to the question. Wanda busies herself by looking elsewhere, wiping down the already clean counter.]
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it is a terrible answer to the question, and it pulls at pietro's more protective, big brother instincts to want to question it. but she busies herself by looking elsewhere, keeps busy with something small, and he can't help but think he already knows the answer.
hasn't he always, though? they're twins—and for as much as there's been time and distance keeping them apart, they've always known what is in each other's hearts and minds.]
Then I wish you were more honest with me.
[because it's different, to know something without words being said and to actually be told those words. sometimes, just sometimes, he needs to hear things—the same way wanda may need to hear things, too. which is why he picks himself up from where he is and walks over to her, by the counter, and puts his hand over the one she uses to wipe down the counter, effectively stopping the motion.]
I could never judge you, or think wrong of you. We are the same. [—and it hurts, when he thinks that they may not be, despite their history—] And if something is going on, I want to be here, [he brings up her hand, puts it between both of his own, pressed against his chest] to know and be ready, so I can make sure we will both be okay.
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It's not that simple anymore, Pietro. You've been out of the game for a long time.
[And was barely in it. An Avenger for less than a day. She's had to learn to be stronger.]
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[it certainly is disheartening to hear his own sister, his confidant, the other half of his soul since before birth tell him that he's probably not qualified to make things right.
is it fair at all? he feels frustrated, because he wants to be more, just so she won't have to be in this pain that she, undoubtedly, is in. he huffs, rubbing hard at his eyes in annoyance.]
I cannot just say on the sidelines and wait for the world to decide what is next. I'm your older brother. It's my job to protect you.