Okay, I hope someone out there appreciates this; you have no idea the problems the site gave me trying to post it.
Wanda narrowed her eyes at the little coffee grinder which should have begun whirring and crunching as it ground the dark-roast beans of her favorite brand ten seconds ago when she pressed the quarter-sized silver button with ON/Off written in neat, white letters that could be easily read from across the room. But the cheap, portable appliance remained dormant and mutinously silent. Clicking her tongue, a habit she had embarrassingly picked up from Fred, although, if asked she would pointedly deny it, she pressed the button again and peered through the clear plastic lid on the off chance she had over-filled the flimsy, pathetic excuse for a machine and the blades were getting stuck.
The beans didn't even jump. The stupid thing wasn't turning on.
A sound of frustration ran through her throat and jumped from her lips as she slammed her fist against the counter, jarring the useless grinder as well as the bag of coffee and small camping pot she preferred over the standard drip setting on the opposite counter. Scowling slightly, she dropped to her hands and knees to make sure the plug hadn't been fallen out of the socket.
No, it was still snuggly tucked into the wall. She pulled it out and examined the other end. It seemed fine to her admittedly limited expertise, so did the socket. Clicking her tongue and groaning in frustration she replaced the plug, jamming it in with a little more force than was probably necessary, before reaching back up to the counter above her head and groping around blindly for the grinder. It wasn't hard to find the correct button, it was after all designed for anyone between the age of nine and ninety to be able to use, and the quick jab with her thumb produced, to her growing expectations, absolutely nothing.
She slammed her fist against the floor with another irritated groan before straightening up to sit on her knees and sighing resignedly. The electricity was picky in this place.
Uncrossing her arms, she waved a vague gesture at the occupied socket and didn't bother to suppress the small self-satisfied smile that crossed her face when the grinder whirred to life.
She turned toward the living room at the sound of several sharp raps in quick succession filtering into the kitchen, indicating someone either stupid or lost was at the front door. She decided to let one of the boys get it and get on with her coffee preparations before the pounding resounded again, somewhat more aggressively this time, and she realized she was likely the only one who'd actually made it downstairs yet.
Grumbling about men and their inherent laziness and apparent inability to be of any use whatsoever, she swung open the door without really bothering to see who was there. "What?!"
"Hey Miss Scarlett," Evan smiled brightly and offered a slight wave. "Can Pietro come out and play?"
She managed, barely, to suppress the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it would only encourage him. She groaned inwardly, beginning to develop definite ideas about how the rest of the day was going to go. Evan, in his own way, was worse than Toad.
He'd never given her any elaborate speeches or loud proclamations of affection, but it wasn't necessary. It was the way he grinned childishly every time he saw her. The way he perpetually seemed to be, against all logic, happy to see her. The way he carried on as if they were still friends. As if her banishment to the mental institution hadn't changed anything, hadn't changed her.
Like his insistent use of that stupid childhood nickname, proof that he remembered a time when he really could fix all her problems with a bag of Peache-o's and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Sometimes she got the impression that he believed his roll remained the same even if his methods had changed.
And what really got on her nerves was how comforting she found his commitment to their childhood relationship. How deeply she craved the comfort and familiarity he constantly offered.
Instead of getting into all of that, even with herself, she fixed him with one of her hardest glares and offered a flat, "Don't call me that."
Evan, however, casually ignored the tone and smiled indulgingly at the harshness of her face, shrugging at her demand. "Whatever. So is he coming out or am I coming in?"
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, offering no indication either way. "When did you two kiss and make up?"
All this earned her was a stifled chuckle, hastily disguised as a snort. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Miss Scarlett," he informed her, black eyes sparkling playfully, "Stick to flat out spite." He smiled at the offended growl she barely managed to stifle in the back of her throat, "And we're not friends; we've just recently adopted the same social circle."
Wanda sighed irritably and rolled her eyes heavenward as if begging for assistance. A cheerful Evan was just more than her poor caffeine deprived mind could handle this early in the morning. Much worse than Toad. At least he lived with her, Evan went out of his way to drive her crazy.
When none was forthcoming she turned and stomped back toward the kitchen screaming as loud as her lungs would allow, "Pietro! Get your ass down here now!"
Before the words had even fully left her mouth the wind picked up behind and then in front of her. The rapid change in a air pressure and direction knocked her slightly off-balance, and although she should have been expecting it, the surprise at seeing her brother suddenly appearing right in front of her, hadn't helped. She hated the startled gasp that left her throat, and was even more put out when she felt her feet tangle up with his, ensuring that she was going to end up on her butt.
Just as she'd begun toppling over, however, a hand latched onto her wrist and jerked upright in one smooth continuous motion.
Angry, embarrassed, and in desperate need of caffeine, she let out a frustrated scream and jerked her hand out of Pietro's grip, glaring at him as if the domino affect of her morning was directly related to him.
She caught the hurt look that passed his features, but ignored it as she'd done with every other pained glance sent in her direction and any attempt on his part to make the relationship between them civil at best. In any case, he lived up to his boastings, the expression gone almost before she'd even seen it, his features already arranged into the carefully neutral, shy look her always wore around her. "What did I do now?"
"Nothing yet," she said, voice defiantly holding more of scream to than she wanted it to, but at the moment she really couldn't bother herself with worrying about it. "But you'd better get your crazy not-friend out of here before I make something up."
The neutral expression melted into one of vague confusion. "My what?"
"I think she means me," Evan replied from the spot he'd taken up residence in on the bottom step, apparently deciding since she'd neglected to slam the door in his face that he was allowed to come inside.
"Oh, hi," Pietro greeted off-handedly. "How long have you been here?"
Again with that infernal casual shrug, "Couple minutes. Kurt and the girls are waiting in the car." He smirked playfully and waved a hand, "Don't rush on my account, I'm kinda enjoying the novelty of waiting on the infamous Quicksilver."
"I can appreciate the irony."
"Heh, nice phrase airhead."
That was it. The causal teasing and insults were too easy, too familiar. It was more than her limited patients could handle...
"OUT!" she erupted, practically shaking with ill-concealed rage, pointing stiffly at the still open door and too keyed up to even be properly pleased with herself concerning the amount of self-control she was currently displaying by keeping her powers in check. "BOTH OF YOU JUST GET OUT!"
Pietro never really had been able to keep his thoughts to himself even in the most desperate situations, and this had yet to qualify. Even as he moved, albeit slowly…for him at least…to obey her furious demand he muttered quietly to Evan or perhaps himself as he passed, "Now that's scary."
She was about to hex him in tracks demanding an explanation, but sometime during the exchange Evan had moved from his seat at the bottom of the staircase and taken up residence at her side. She didn't know how he always moved so quietly; he should not have been able to sneak up on her at all, let alone when he'd been right in front of her the whole time.
The gentle pressure against her cheek was, as always, soft and fleeting, lasting barely long enough for her to register what had happened. And, as always, the intentionally childish display of affection had caught her completely off-guard, even though she knew she should have been expecting it.
By the time she had recovered, Evan was already halfway down the hall. Half-turning, he tossed a cheerful, "See ya later Miss Scarlett!" over his shoulder as he fallowed Pietro through the living room. The front door creaked loudly as it swung leisurely closed behind them but not before she caught a glimpse of the taller boy lightly smacking Evan on the back of his head.
-A lot of this chapter, such as Evan's repeated referrals to Wanda as 'Miss Scarlett' relates back to a one-shot I recently posted called Third Grade Kisses. It's not necessary to read it, but it helps explain the dynamics of the Evan/Wanda/Pietro interactions. Plus I said in an earlier chapter I'd write it, so I did.
-'smacking Evan on the back of the head.' Gibbs Slap! Points if you know what that means.
Quick note: I was going over a few of the chapters and some mental notes I have for later ones, and I realized that I'm not actually adhering to any particular time-line. I also seem to ignoring a few somewhat major events that took place on the show. As it is, however, I can't fix any of that without changing the entire basis of the story, so I'll do my best to explain inconsistencies when I catch them, and if I don't or you don't understand my explanations, just ask and I'll be happy to clear it up.
Kurt's up next. I promise!