This was also posted on AO3 under the same title and the username 'watermelonriddles'


It was Bucky's job to find the birthday girl. He wound his way through the building until he reached Wanda's room. He knocked once, and the door opened by itself.

He stepped inside in time to see her lower her hand. She was sat on her bed, back against the headboard. Her knees were drawn up and she was looking out the window. Carefully Bucky sat on the bed beside her. He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles, and looked over at her.

Their rule was to wait. They both realised early on that neither of them liked to talk about what was wrong, especially when they were asked first. People asked them questions like "what's wrong?" and "you know you can talk to me, right?" all the time, and that meant they had to answer. So the two of them made a deal that they wouldn't ask the other what was wrong, they would simply wait until the other person wanted to talk. Sometimes the other person wouldn't talk about it, and would instead talk about something else, their second rule was to let that happened.

Their third rule was only to break the other rules in a dire situation and to allow the person asking some piece of mind, no matter how small.

Bucky looked away and his eyes fell on her bedside table. There was a lamp, an alarm clock, and a framed picture. He studied it. Wanda was in it, but she was a lot younger, just a child. And beside her was a boy, about her age, his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She was laughing and he had this proud look on his face.

Wanda leaned across him and picked the photo up. As she sat back she handed it to him. Bucky held it with both hands and studied the picture closer. They both looked happy, care-free.

"That's my brother. Pietro." She reached out and gently ran her finger over the boy's face. "He was always able to make me laugh."

He remembered now. Pietro. Since he'd been back Bucky had heard a lot of things about everyone. Clint had spoken a lot about his family, and that meant speaking about the Maximoff twins. And that's when it hit him. It was his birthday too.

"I'm sorry." He looked at her as he handed the photo back. "About what happened to him, and that he can't be here."

She gave him a soft smile, hugging the picture to her chest. "Tony found this picture for me. I don't know where, I don't know how, but he found it."

"It must be nice to have a happy memory."

She started to nod her head, but she was crying. It was silent and if Bucky hadn't of been watching her he never would have known. She gently put the picture down on the unit beside her, but her hands were shaking. She was angry, he could tell.

"I'm not okay," she finally said.

Before he could even think about what to say something in her snapped. She grabbed the glass of water from the unit and threw it with all her force at the wall opposite them. It shattered on impact and the contents created a patch on the wall and slowly dripped down.

Bucky was sat up straight now, but she was already up. She grabbed whatever she could, apart from the picture, and threw it across the room. She kept throwing things all of the room, in different directions, breaking things, but she never used her powers, and that's when Bucky knew he shouldn't, couldn't interrupt. Her powers would mean danger, but he, and the others in the house, weren't in danger.

It was only when he heard the distinct sounds of people running up the hall and yelling that he decided to get involved. He got up and stood between the door and Wanda, his back to the door. As soon as it opened he held his hand up.

She was struggling to find things to throw. He could see the contemplation in her eyes to use her powers to destroy the bigger things in the room like her bed or the unit beside it. Slowly he walked towards her. There was creaking sound from the bed as if something was adding pressure to it.

Bucky slipped behind her, leaving enough space for another person to fit between them. He reached out a hand and gently touched her fingers before moving his hand back a little so they were no longer touching.

He waited patiently and eventually the creaking sound stopped. She reached behind her and grabbed his hand, tugging him closer. He stepped forward until her back pressed against his chest. She guided his arm to wrap around her, and he slowly slipped the other one around her too. Rule number four, let the other come to you. She put her head back against him and allowed him to support most of her weight as she sobbed.


So I was going to turn this around and make it a happy ending, but I decided not to, I don't know why, maybe I just enjoy pain.