margenes | · OPEN POST ·

[a sofa sounds entirely too tempting, and so pietro uses his sister as support (arm over her shoulder) as he makes his way in through the door and towards the piece of furniture. he glances around the place, noting how it looks very different from the comfort of modern homes.

well, at least the couch is comfortable.

he lands on it, relieved, and huffs out a laugh.]

It took me so long to find you. Why here?

[She's developing a bad habit of not answering his questions. Once he's on the couch, she starts to look him over now for injuries sustained from his tumble, not being shot.]

When did you last see me?

[he's noticing, and he's a little annoyed by that—he's the oldest of the two, you know! but he's tired, and willing to give her the time she needs to answer. it seems to pietro that they're both in a position of confusion, one way or the other.

adjusting on the couch, it's easy to remember. it's the last thing he does remember, before waking up. everything else is a bit of a blur.]

You told me you could handle things on your own, and that I should help get people off the city. You know, I'm still twelve minutes older than you, but you keep avoiding my questions.

[A lifetime ago. Wanda's hands pause over his ribs, eyes on his face. He must feel it, too. Something is wrong. What she feels might be a trick is--time, perhaps. Time's never been her friend.]

Pietro, that was... a long time ago. Years.

[Closer to ten, if you factor in the snap.]

Well, so I took a long nap.

[he tries not to think too hard about it. years is a long time, and the last thing he wants on his mind is the excruciating reality that he's missed out on said time.

...]

How much time was it?

Too long.

[She learned how to get by without her big brother. She didn't move on, but she had to carry on, and the thought just has the tears welling up in her eyes again despite her efforts to not cry all over again.]

Oh, Wanda...

[he sits up carefully, his hand on her face, bringing her close for another tight embrace.]

I'm so sorry. [in sokovian,] I love you. I'm home. I won't go anywhere, I promise.

[Maybe she shouldn't squeeze him too tight in this state, but she'll deal with that later. She can't not hug him for dear life, face burying into his shoulder, practically in his lap for all her clinging.]

I love you, Pietro.

[Words she hasn't said aloud for anyone to hear in far too long.

She doesn't know how this happened, but she's not losing this. She's already given up so much. Not him. Not again.]

We won't be separated again.

[it's just like when they were children. their bursts of rebellion came from a deeper grief, of having last their parents; there were days when it was too overwhelming, especially for wanda. pietro always saw himself as the one who had to protect her, to hold her tight and make sure her tears wouldn't be seen by others. it's private, it's personal—these emotions.

at least, despite it all, he feels complete. with her here, finally reunited.]

Stay like this as much as you need. [he knows it's important. he brushes her hair on her back.] It is very comfortable.

[he'll tease her a bit, though.]

[She's missed the teasing so much. It doesn't make her laugh aloud, but it does soothe something her, and after a little bit more of crying and clinging onto him she manages words.]

What did you hurt, clumsy?

Well, doctor said I shouldn't be walking since I slept so long. Muscles are all soft and weak, but I couldn't just sit and wait. Not when you needed me so badly.

[with a light pinch of his fingers, he dries any tear stains on her cheek.]

Just sore all over. I'll get better with some rest.

You're really not smart sometimes, you know that?

[The words carry far too much fondness to be insulting. If he hadn't found her, she might have never thought to look. Why would she?

She can't help but keep looking at him, taking in the face she hadn't seen outside of her memories in so long.]

I am incredibly smart on those other times, yes?

[he takes it not as an offense, rather curries it to his favor. all this staring is making him feel a little awkward; he knows he's handsome, wanda! do you need to stroke his ego like that? he'll only be insufferable from here on out.]

But, really, why are you out here in this place?

Pietro.

[Freshly reunited, and he's making her roll her eyes. She wants to tease him, but the question derails that.

There's... a lot to explain. She doesn't know how to begin, or where, so she just decides to actually answer his question for once.]

I made a very big mistake. I'm... dangerous, Pietro. It's better for everyone and myself if I keep some distance.

[She's far beyond what he last saw.]

[this is serious now. pietro assumed that there had to be a reason why wanda was being cagey about answering his questions. he's finally gotten her to the point where she will consider giving him an answer.

he grabs one of her hands, and holds it.]

Everyone makes mistakes, and dangerous is just a word. Anyone with a gun is as dangerous as anyone with powers.

[but what... exactly...?]

What happened?

[Wanda grasps his fingers, looking down at their hands and shaking her head.]

It's beyond that. I took a town hostage, Pietro. I controlled their minds. It was agony for them.

[The scary part is that she hadn't meant to hurt anyone at all.]

[with her hand held in his, he brushes his thumb over her knuckles. if she won't look him in the eyes, at least he can remind her through touch that he's right here and he isn't on anyone's team but hers.]

Surely not on purpose?

[except every time wanda practiced her magic to manipulate others, she was fully aware of what she wanted to do.]

You should start from beginning. I'm not sure I follow.

You're dead.

[That's the beginning, right? Wanda's brow furrows.]

You... were. I didn't have a home anymore. I went with the Avengers, to America. I became one of them.

[Welcomed, even though she'd wanted to destroy them.]

[how morbid, sister. but he gets it—he had been dead for long, far as anyone was concerned. far as he was concerned. he's not entirely sure how his side of the story panned out, especially when wanda was not aware of him.]

And they treated you well?

[—better than being by herself, surely.

pietro can imagine how bad it must have felt, to be working with stark, of all people, but he has the impression that perhaps clint and even captain america must have been caring enough.]

[She nods. It's maybe not worth getting into the accords. It's the past, now. A far distant past even if it doesn't really feel that way to her, sometimes.]

But you weren't there.

[No matter how warm, how welcoming, how much they tried to be her family and make the compound feel like home, it wasn't. She felt so out of place. It's why she could understand Steve, and why she and Vision got along so well.

They're gone now, though.]

Wish that I could have been.

[he is sorry about that, but apologizing won't make any of them happy, and it's going to sound like someone's shifting the blame somewhere, when it isn't really the fault of either of them.]

America, like we had always dreamt... [well, through sitcoms] Tell me more, Wanda.

I will. I just...

[Have to lean into him again, hug him, remind herself that--somehow--he's here. She can feel him breathe. He's warm. If she stays still enough, she can feel his heartbeat.]

I missed you all the time, Pietro.

[he allows it, these pockets of space that she needs to get her thoughts together, and he's all the more happy to be the target of her hugs. hugging her right back, he presses his cheek to the top of her head.]

I know.

[it eats at him how alone she must have felt, and how he was not there for her. he should have been a little more selfish, knowing that his life was not his own to give away in a flurry of heroism.]

But you do know I haven't showered in a few days, yes?

[bringing one hand up to her face, he looks down at her as he caresses her cheek.]

You can tell me later. I can do my best to be patient. [and they both know he sucks at that] What you need is more important to me, Wanda.

I know. You stink.

[It's a soft, watery laugh against him.]

You should take a bath. It'll help you feel better. Get you comfortable.

[He's a mess. She's a mess, but at least she's clean and smells like tea and grass, not sweat and dirt.]

[an eyeroll from his behalf, but her response wasn't entirely unexpected.]

I don't imagine you have clothes for me in here. [he glances about] Is there warm water or it has to be boiled in kettle?

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