Third Grade Kisses
This is sort of a side-fling to It's Called a Heart Attack. It doesn't really have anything to do with anything, but it helps explain the some of the interactions between the Maximoff siblings and Evan. It didn't really turn out the way I intended, but I've learned it's best not to fight these things.
By the way, are Pietro and Wanda twins? I can't seem to find a consistent reference.
The night air was cool and damp against her face, heavy with the promise of rain, though the sky remained calm and clear, bespeckled with millions of stars. She spent a full minute just standing there, head tilted toward the heavens, eyes opened wide, mouth opened in silent amazement. She hadn't thought the stars were visible this close to the city.
But the sky was alive with them, all twinkling and winking at her, as if laughing at a joke no one was in on.
"If it's any consolation, he took losing you really hard."
She whirled around, lips pulling back over her teeth almost in a snarl, eyes narrowed to slits; an expression that would have had even the most experienced doctors she'd grown up with stuttering and tripping over their own feet.
How he had managed to come up behind her with out so much as the gravel crunching beneath his booted feet was beyond her. Especially since he was obviously making no attempt to keep his presence unknown. He looked much the same as he did in her cracked and faded memories, taller of course, and finally privileged to a proper hair cut as opposed to the messy blond mop he used to have atop his head, but his beautiful dark skin still contrasted dramatically with the intense bond of his hair, highlighting dark eyes that sparkled with mischief and childish kindness. Though his expression was somber, those dark eyes twinkled and shone like the stars as if, bafflingly, he was…pleased to see her.
The simple, inelegant indication that was reflected in his entire demeanor did not calculate into at all into her understanding of the dynamics of the world outside her prison walls. Her expression remained carefully hostile, but her own stance relaxed slightly into a less formidable position. "What?"
If he was offended or frightened by the harsh tones resonating in and around her voice, it didn't show. He merely offered a little half-shrug and dropped to the curb at her feet. "Pietro. He took losing you really hard."
The wind notably picked up, sending dust and empty wrappers and bags spiraling around them. A telephone wire just a few yards away snapped and swung wildly, sparks raining down below hissing and snapping. Her lips pulled themselves back into the snarl, but her eyes were wide with rage, pupils dilated, expression hard.
"What?" the word was forced between her teeth, voice barely more than a growl.
But Evan didn't seem to notice. He simply sat there, at her feet, head tilted back, black eyes searching the heavens for secrets best left alone. "Relax, Miss Scarlett," his own calm, almost amused tone grated on her nerves, causing the already raging wind to swirl and roar around them, the old abused concrete snapping and cracking apart as if under attack.
"Don't call me that!" she demanded with more heat than she had intended. The loved and worn childhood nickname was an unwanted reminder of lost innocents and a place in a world that hadn't wanted her. Back when the three of them had been nearly inseparable, hiding in basements from parents who insisted it was late and time to go home. Back when her favorite movie had been Gone With the Wind, and he had Pietro had both thought it was cute. Back when Pietro, so much more at ease and wanted by the fickle moods and crowds among their peers, made a point of nodding his head every time he passed her in the hall and offering a cheerful "Hey Miss Scarlett!", letting the whole school know she was his sister. Back when Evan would call her over, arms waving wildly in childish eagerness, "Hey Miss Scarlett, I saved you a swing!"
She was surprised he even remembered the old nickname she hadn't heard in years, let alone was brave enough to use it. Pietro remembered it; she'd seen it on his face when she and Mystique had announced her codename, but he was far too shy and skittish around her to mention it.
He just shrugged again and half-turned to face her. His lips turned upward in wide, almost loving grin. "Why? I remember a time when that was the only name you would answer to." She hated that this was true; that this, this boy had been thrown back into her life unwanted and without warning, who remembered all her childhood dreams and secrets that simply did not matter anymore. A representative of time long dead; real, breathing proof of all she'd had taken from her.
She considered hexing him as she had done not so long ago in the mall, but decided against it, already getting the idea that it wouldn't phase him overmuch. She settled for glowering at him through slitted eyes in a way that had had the entirety of the Brotherhood hiding behind the furniture.
"I don't want to talk about my brother."
His grin faded to the somber expression he'd been wearing when he first appeared behind her and he shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly, "I don't want you talk about him either. I just want you to listen for a minute." He paused for beat, eyes searching hers as if giving her the opportunity to walk away, to pretend the conversation hadn't happened. But unfortunately, her curiosity had been peeked and for her own piece of mind she could not allow herself to let this lie. Though her face remained set in scowl, she grudgingly nodded for him to continue.
"You were just gone, Wanda, as far as I or anyone else knew. Officially, you were sent to go live with your mom outta state, but…I knew that wasn't true. I didn't know what had happened, but I knew you weren't where they said you were.
"I asked Pietro about it, and he wanted to tell me, but he never did. He got real…quiet…for a while, spacing out for hours at a time, standing across the hall and just…staring at your locker, glancing around the halls between periods like he was waiting for you to show up. I tried to get him to talk to me about it, but he just kept pushing deeper and deeper inside.
"Then he just started pushing everyone away. He picked fights with anyone he could for no reason, he went out of his way to get himself in trouble. Like he was punishing himself for something. And, honestly I tried to be a good friend, really I did, but he was just so…" he shrugged again, but this time sadly, and for a lack of words. "He didn't want anybody getting close to him."
She laughed, a harsh bitter sound in the back of her throat. "He abandoned me! I was alone and scared, and I needed him! And he just let him" she spat the word like poison leaving a bad taste in her mouth, "throw me away!"
"He was ten years old, Wanda," Evan said softly, looking her straight in the eye. "He was a scared little kid, just like you. And he couldn't stop it anymore than you could."
The wind settled down, the air cool and still, the night eerily silent in its wake. She'd never really thought about it like that before. The anger and betrayal too sharp and clear to leave space for anything else, were still there, but duller somehow, less vivid and demanding. "Why are you telling me this?" Her voice still carried the harmonics of a growl, but the undertone was soft and calmer than she'd felt in years.
Shrugging again, "Because someone should." He shook his head slightly, "I don't owe Maximoff anything; I haven't for long time. But you don't need to blame him for whatever happened; he blames himself enough for all of us."
The smile was back, playful and mischievous, a hint of laugh creeping into his voice, "Besides, how often will I get the chance to catch up with my first girlfriend?"
In spite of herself, she felt her own lips curl into an answering smile, something she hadn't done since the strange men had carried her away in the stormy night despite her desperate, frightened screams. Back when being her boyfriend had simply meant sharing his Gummy Bears at lunch, pushing her on the swing, and chasing Bruce Stoner around the playground for saying she had cooties.
"I gotta get goin'; the guys are gonna be lookin' for me," he said with a half-shrug and that wide, open grin that reminded her of sand boxes swing sets. "But, it was good seein' you again, Miss Scarlett."
The gentle pressure against her cheek was unexpected but not unwelcome. Warm and wet and intentionally sloppy; a third grade kiss that left her with the smell of old concrete and wood chips as he walked away.
-'made a point of nodding his head every time he passed her in the hall and offering a cheerful "Hey Miss Scarlett!", letting the whole school know she was his sister.' Taken from Bones. Variant of the Marco/Polo game Russ and Brennan played in high school.