Commonality
If ever two people were complete opposites, it was Vision and Pietro.
Vision floated cross-legged by the bank of the Hudson River, an artist's easel perched in the grass in front of him. With careful, minute strokes, he detailed the vivid green of the trees on the other side of the riverbank.
It was a warm, still day, with only the gentlest hint of a breeze over the surface of the water. But then, off in the distance, Vision felt he could hear a sound like a small gale-force wind.
A blue blur in his periphery. A woosh, flinging green paint in his face. The easel rocked, and then was still—and there was a great, ugly green slash right across the river.
Vision dropped his paints and shot into the air in vexation. "Do you mind?" he shouted.
Pietro was already several yards away, but he doubled back and then skid to a stop, throwing grass in Vision's face. "Do I mind?" he shot back. "You are on my running path!"
"The least you could do is take a detour!"
"I cannot run where ground is not flat! You want me break my ankles?"
"I need this angle—"
"You know morning is training time—"
"The light has to be just right if I'm going to—"
"One of us is practicing for battles and not throwing away time—"
"Is it so hard to watch where you're going?!"
"Paint some other thing!"
"Fine!" Vision gathered up his supplies in a huff and began to fly towards the HQ building. "I'll inform Captain Rogers of this, and you will be sorry."
"You'll be sorry!" Pietro shouted after him, but Vision was already gone.
There was a moment of empty quiet before Vision's feet touched down on the roof. If he had lungs, he might have sighed.
Pietro was obnoxious, but sometimes he wondered why they couldn't just get along.
In hindsight, perhaps Vision shouldn't have chosen to do his reading on the Common Room couch with its back to the hallway. Two strong arms suddenly shot over the back of the couch and around his neck.
"Ej, Vision!" Pietro bawled right into his audio receptors, and tugged him closer. "Listen, I have done some thinking."
One of Vision's eyes squinted involuntarily. "My, what a rare occurrence."
Pietro's nose wrinkled. "Čušať."
Vision lowered the density of his neck until he could phase out of the choke-hold. Pietro's crossed arms thumped against the couch backrest.
"See, I have noticed you and me are new here, yes?" said Pietro, still talking even before Vision turned around to look at him. "And we do not like each other much. Wanda, she likes everyone—and they like her—but you and me, we fight, we bicker, I am still mad at you for breaking her heart maybe..."
Vision raised the ridge above one of his eyes where his eyebrow would be. "Your point being?"
"Point is," announced Pietro, with a wide gesture of his arms, "I want to take you to a party."
Vision blinked. "A...party?"
"Yes. It is when friends and friends of friends get together, talk, eat food, drink booze—"
"I know what a party is."
Pietro shrugged. "I did not know if you didn't."
Vision did his very best not to let his irritation show. "Why would you take me there?"
"Why not?" grinned Pietro. "Best way to become friends, right?"
Vision sincerely doubted that. "I suppose..."
"Good." He turned and shouted over his shoulder, "Is tonight, be ready in two hours!"
Vision sat up. "Wait!" he shouted after him. "You couldn't even give me advance warning?"
"Didn't think of it!" Pietro vanished down the hall.
Vision did not groan out loud, but he definitely wanted to. He hoped this would not go as badly as he thought it would.
It did.
"So you didn't have fun?" Wanda asked that evening. Concern was etched in every line in her face.
Vision massaged his forehead as if he had a headache. "There was very loud music and everyone was just there. I don't understand the purpose."
"Purpose is to have fun!" cried Pietro. "Talk, dance, make friends, find lovers…"
"By gyrating?" asked Vision.
Wanda took Vision's arm in hers. "Maybe instead, you can come with me to the book club next week." Her smile was sheepish, but earnest. "I think you'll like it more."
"I'm sure I will." Vision looked up and glared at Pietro.
Pietro glared back.
Mission unsuccessful.
"Favorite color?" asked Pietro.
Vision frowned. "I'd have to say...yellow. Or gold."
"Drat. Lightning blue."
"All right. Erm...hobbies?"
"Video games. Parties. Racing." Pietro grinned.
"Reading, painting, and the arts."
Pietro made a sputtering noise with his lips. "So boring."
"You would think so." Vision pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's see...music?"
"Easy! Hardbass."
"Classical."
"Boring."
"Favorite sport?"
"Footrace, duh! Or American football."
"Golf."
"Môj Bože."
"Yes, yes, I know."
"Favorite food?"
"I don't eat."
"Oh. Right. Well, movies?"
Vision frowned. "Films? Well, I never bothered to pick a favorite. I do enjoy those Lewis and Tolkien films that Captain Rogers likes..."
"Boring!" crowed Pietro. "Die Hard, Mad Max, John Wick, Hardcore Henry! Have some fun!"
"All right." Vision waved in the air with his hand. "Clearly, we're not getting anywhere with this. You and I have nothing in common. We might as well accept it."
Pietro frowned. "I guess you're right."
Vision wanted to say 'I know I am', but somehow, the pensive look on Pietro's face arrested it on his synthetic tongue.
Both of them turned their heads and looked down at the Hudson meandering on down below. They sat on the roof of the HQ, in the cooling twilight air, watching as the sunless sky turned purple, the stars began to come out, and the fireflies twinkled in the grass and trees.
Pietro took a deep breath—how odd it must be, to have lungs that need oxygen—and let it out, slumping over. "I miss Sokovia. At least there it would not be so hot in the summer," he grumbled.
Vision smiled wanly. "How much do you remember of your home country?"
Pietro's normally brash grin was suddenly melancholy. "Everything."
He looked askance. Vision wondered if he was thinking about his parents; and everyone else he'd lost and left behind.
"What...is it like?" Vision asked slowly. "Being part of a...er, a nuclear family?"
Pietro snorted and leaned back on his hands. "It's annoying, is what it is! Your Mama and Ocko always ordering you around, 'do this', 'do that', 'do chores', 'clean this', 'lift this'." His voice went into a high falsetto. "'No, we cannot buy that, we have no money!' And your sister steals all of your things."
His grin softened, and he looked askance at the quiet river. "But...you love them. And you know they will always stay by you."
Vision was quiet. He wished he could empathize with the loss Pietro must have felt when his parents passed; when he had to leave behind the only life he'd ever known. It was just so hard to imagine. He couldn't picture leaving the Avengers; he couldn't picture Mr. Stark or Dr. Banner or anyone else just...not being there, anymore.
He sighed, though it was just extraneous noise. "Wanda will be disappointed that we found no common ground."
Pietro was unusually quiet. "She is our common ground."
Vision looked up in surprise. Pietro was already staring into him. And slowly, Vision began to realize what he meant, and nodded somberly.
"I suppose she is."
Pietro sat there for only a second longer, before he swung up to his feet and headed for the staircase door.
"Just a moment." Vision uncurled his legs and began to float. There was something he'd been meaning to ask—but had never found the opportunity, not until now. "You took several missiles from an aircraft to save the life of Clint Barton."
Pietro's footsteps began to slow. "Yeah?" he asked softly. "Why you ask about it?"
Vision was quiet. "It nearly cost you your life."
Pietro chuckled. "Well, that is the cost of this work, right?" He swung on his heel and faced Vision, but though his face smiled, his eyes were the most serious Vision had ever seen. "We fight, we protect, and if someone has to die...we do it, so others don't have to."
Vision was silent. The truth of that statement hung over him like the weight of stars in the violet sky.
"I haven't yet had the chance to take that risk," he said, and it was completely sincere. "But if I do—"
He paused, and looked Pietro right in the eye.
"I hope I have your courage."
Pietro was silent for a moment, then huffed up a little laugh. He stuck his hand out. Vision took and shook it.
Pietro slapped his arm. "I guess we do have something the same after all."
Then he turned and went downstairs, leaving Vision on the rooftop with the stars.
"You sure? No rush if you're not ready. We've got all the time in the world here."
Vision hesitated. Mr. Stark did raise a good point; in their previous runs of testing the Mind Stone's capabilities, Vision hadn't been able to control it. What if he never could? What if he was simply not up to the task?
But on the other side of the lab's blast window was Wanda, grinning cheekily with two thumbs up, and Pietro, leaning on the glass with his arms crossed and a smile on his face.
It gave Vision a new courage. He smiled as well. "Yes. I'm sure."
A moment later, a little bluetooth speaker on a table gave a small blip and began to play a song.
Perhaps having nothing in common was not so bad after all.
A/N: Sorry this one is a day late! I got so wrapped up preparing for Christmas that I forgot all about the update. But hey, it's finally here! All Sokovian, as always, is Slovak, at the mercy of Google Translate. Čušať means "shut up", Môj Bože means "my god", and Mama and Ocko are "mom" and "dad". I hope everyone who celebrates it had a wonderful Christmas!
Reviews are stars.
BIG QUESTION! STORY MIGHT BE DELETED! OPINIONS NEEDED!
I don't know if anyone has noticed, but I don't really write these stories, with, uh...a plan. Most of them are off the cuff and I find a logical place to fit them in. I'm constantly restructuring, even as I'm writing. To be honest, I'm not very happy with a lot of Everyday in Esopus; most of these chapters have felt like phoning it in. I think I can do better.
So, proposition. I'm thinking of a rewrite. Some of these one-shots work better in the context of Wanda and Pietro getting to know the Avengers for the first time in the Tower during Pietro's recovery; others, especially with Vision's later arc, will still be set in the HQ. But in honor of the impending hiatus of theoriginalbookthief07's Christy-Verse, I'm resurrecting a lot of long-neglected plot points from Bored with Puns. Yep, it's THROWBACK TIME!
If you want to know what to expect, some of these conversations will be recycled wholesale, while there will also be some brand new material—like the twins touring American landmarks, and Bucky and Steve trying Sokovian food. If you've got any strong opinions on this, PLEASE go to my bio and VOTE IN THE POLL if you want me to:
- Delete EiE now and start over! No regrets!
- Stop writing EiE here, but don't delete it; just start on the rewrites
- Finish EiE and keep it up, then start on the rewrites
- Delete EiE after the rewrites are done
- Don't rewrite anything, it's perfect as it is
Again, if you have any strong opinions, PLEASE VOTE IN THE POLL! I will probably stop and/or delete EiE and start over unless you guys want something otherwise. My apologies to everyone to whom I promised something later in this story; you all know how plans can change. Thanks, everybody!