Eyyy, it's a somewhat reasonable update! Go me! Thanks for the awesome reviews; you guys are stellar. Keep it up! Keep sending in your ideas, you guys are already setting my wheels turning.

Edit: Thanks to Niom Lamboise for calling out my spelling error; don't write when you're low on sleep, children.

oOoOo

Wanda carefully flips through rack after rack, letting shirt after shirt pass by her fingers. Flannels, soft tees, and chiffon go past her scrutinizing gaze; every now and then a garment that passes her criticism is deposited in the cart that Laura pushes patiently in front of her. There's a lot of green and white piled in the bottom; namely because Laura refuses to have more than three articles of black or red clothing. Lila dances around, twirling and bobbing in the aisles and racks like a hyperactive fairy, sometimes offering fashion advice but mostly humming an original, complicated song that only her brain can conjure.

"Wanda, honey, look at this," Laura says, reading out to pick a long, soft, deep blue maxi dress from its counterparts. "What about it?"

Wanda's eyes widen, and she carefully gathers it in her arms. A smile breaks out on her face, and she meets Laura's happy grin. "Is beautiful," she breathes. "I had a dress like this, once."

"Oh?" Laura questions, unobtrusively inviting her to continue. In the past two days Laura has quickly learned that neither Wanda nor Pietro readily share information concerning their past. Every now and again they start on something, but they inevitably shut their mouths and fall silent while the other one changes the subject. It's like clockwork; each twin seems to know by instinct when they need to take over for the other. Laura and Clint can ask as many innocent questions as they wish about their lives, but when it became too hard to talk about the opposite twin infallibly swoops in to the rescue.

Needless to say, Laura is not going to let this precious opportunity slip through her fingers.

Wanda nods and runs her fingers over the long skirt. "The dress-it is long, and blue, like so. My mama buys it for me when I turn nine." She smiles sadly. "I wear-wore?-it all the time. Until it gets stained because Pietro knocks me into puddle."

She trails off, and Laura senses the moment is past. "Well," she says brightly, guiding Wanda's hands to the cart, "we have to buy it now. And make sure to keep Pietro away from any mud puddles."

Wanda laughs-a clear, bright sound-as they make their way to the dressing room, Lila babbling on about her favorite dress and how she couldn't wait to show Wanda but maybe she did and hey maybe they could match, with Wanda nodding and getting the occasional word it, but Laura can't help but notice the way her eyes travel back to the pile of soft material. There's something underneath—a pain, an ache, an inescapable hurt that won't ever leave, but when Lila's hand slides into hers and squeezes it, they soften.

And when Wanda walks out of the dressing room, thin and lean and clad in a dress that hugs her in all the right places and drapes to the floor, accentuating her curves and giving her the look of a river enchantress, Lila audibles gasps and Laura claps.

They immediately add it to the cart.

oOoOo

Clint stretches, one arm pulled back over his head as he tugs his elbow. In, out, in, out, comes his breath; a calming cycle for thirty seconds before he switches to the other side. His calloused fingers wiggle ever so slightly as they brush the nape of his neck, the only outward sign that he itches to start his workout, but he forces himself to breathe through each and every one of his stretches.

Across from him, Pietro does the same, although his heels tend to bounce as he transitions between poses. Every now and then, he leans to the side to shake out his chiseled calf muscles and let out some of his pent up energy.

"Easy, Tiger," Clint joshes. "I promise the farm will still be there after you're done getting stretched."
Pietro shoots him an irritable glare, but his fidgeting lessens to some extent as he bends over and grabs the tip of his foot, pulling it close to his chest. "You know," he grunts, gripping his shoe and pushing his face closer to his shin, "I am capable of working out by myself."

"I'm sure you are," Clint returns smoothly, shifting to pull his ankle up by his rear and balancing on one foot. "You're also capable of busting yourself open again and ruining all that progress the good doctor did on your sorry ass."

Pietro scoffs into his leg. "She is too careful. I am perfectly fine."

"Tell that to your organs."

"I am!" Pietro protests, and Clint has to look away to hide the grin on his face.

"Be that as it may, a certain short Asian doctor is going to have my ass on a platter if you don't show up next week in perfect condition. So let's just pretend we're work-out buddies for the time being, hmm?" Pietro's expression morphs into that of disgust as Clint's tone becomes mockingly condescending, and Clint can't help deriving entertainment from the torture.

The teen shakes his head and stalks away, hopping back and forth and waving his arms to get his blood flowing. "Are you ready, old man?"

"Ready to kick your sorry butt?" Clint chuckles and stands erect, swinging his arms as well. "I guess we'll see."

They exit the barn and limber up, their sneakers making imprints on the soft grass as Clint mutters about getting out the lawn mower, along with six other random handy jobs to do around the farm. The sky is cloudy, but such a light grey there seems to be no chance of rain, which bodes well for the grueling workout they're both about to go through.

"Ready?" Clint asks. "Slow and steady at first, huh?"

Pietro scoffs, and says something Clint hasn't heard for a few months—"Keep up, old man." Then he's gone in a bright blue blur, dashing across the dull brown of the trees and the grass and he's gone.

Clint sighs and begins a steady warm-up jog, mumbling about quick little bastards and hoping he gets his ankle stuck in a hollow.

oOoOo

Laura purses her lips as she thumbs through racks. The more she looks, the tighter her mouth grows, until she's reached the end of the row and her mouth is smaller than a toothpick. Finally, she throws her hands up in the air and turns around, thoroughly exasperated. "What the hell! Why am I having such a hard time with this?! All I've found is this grey tee shirt and a flannel; this is so basic! What is wrong with me?!"

"Mommy," Lila says sagely, a finger hooked in her mouth, "you shouldn't say naughty words."

Laura huffs an aggravated sigh, and bites out, "Yes, but remember Mommy's exception?"

"Only when Mommy's really really really really really really really mad," Lila replies, and continues spinning nonchalantly down the aisle.

Wanda laughs softly and lays a hand on Laura's shoulder. "Is not worth this fuss, Laura."

Laura gestures wildly with her hands, throwing a withering glance towards the hanging clothes, but a sheepish look overtakes her face. She shakes her head and runs her hands over her cheeks, chuckling. "Goodness. I can shop for a ten year old boy easily, but for some reason an eighteen year old is completely out of my league!"

Wanda shrugs ands rubs a nearby shirt. "Is not your fault. Pietro is not picky about most clothes."

"Well I am!" Laura replies. "The poor boy needs something decent besides those shirts Tony threw at him at a moment's notice."

Wanda carefully lays a soft tee into the cart, a brown flannel following it soon after. "He likes simple things."

Laura sighs and taps her fingers on the cart. "I don't know why this is giving me so much trouble. But you, you seem to know exactly what he needs—and wants—with no problems at all! What's your secret?"
The teen bites her lip, staring off into the distance before finally shrugging and placing a light blue button up in the cart. "I suppose we simply know each other."

oOoOo

Clint gasps raggedly for breath, bracing himself against the nearby barn wall for support. His lungs can't seem to draw in the air they need to properly function, instead awkwardly inflating and deflating willy nilly and with no real purpose. He chokes in air as best as he can, sweat dripping down his neck in rivulets as he attempts to get his breathing back on track. Nearby, Pietro doesn't seem to be faring much better, as he bends over against a hitching post that hasn't been used in twenty years.

Their workout was brutal.

"Wha…" Pietro gasps out, his defined calf muscles trembling with the simple ta of bearing his weight, "wha…what is that?"

"What?" Clint huffs out, something in him annoyed that he has to even talk right now, while his cells call for relief.

"How can you do this?"

"Do what?" Shut up, kid.

Pietro gulps before he answers. "Do…what we…did. You do this every time?"

"Well, I rotate," Clint breathily shrugs, trying his best to sound nonchalant but in truth sounding more like a dying frog than anything. Truth be told, he's stepped up his workout just as tad. He really did try to start out slow, but the kid is so fast, and ridiculously strong, and he obviously didn't plan on going strong anyways…anyway, it's been a while since he's hardcore worked out, and 2, he's gotta show this little bastard who really runs this farm.

Boy, is he regretting this decision.

Pietro makes a sound that sounds like a suspicious cross between a whimper and a groan. "You are crazy, old man."

"Hey, give yourself some credit," Clint manages to reply, finally making an effort to stand up and cross to their precious water. He lightly smacks Pietro's side as he passes. "You weren't too bad yourself."
Pietro scowls. "I am sloppy. This damn hospital has made me fat."

"You ringed the entire perimeter of my farm in 12 seconds."

Pietro swears under his breath. "Pathetic."

"Well, we can't all be stellar athletes after we come back from a near death experience." As Pietro approaches, Clint tosses him a water bottle and a towel. "Speaking of, how fares the injury?"

Pietro shrugs and gulps down water. "Is fine."

"Are you lying?"

Through a straight face, Pietro says, "My body is feeling like giant elephant has stomped on it. Honestly, is hard to tell much of anything at the moment."

"Fair enough." Clint can drink to that.

oOoOo

By the time the boys get inside from their tiring workout session, the women have arrived home and are depositing articles of clothing and miscellaneous groceries in their respective homes. As soon as Clint walks in the door, smelling of sweat and dirt and pain, Lila latches onto his leg and babbles about the purchase her mother allowed her.

He honestly tries not to cry.

Laura, having some compassion, swoops in to save the day, and orders Clint upstairs to take a shower before any kissing is allowed.

Pietro tries to sneak up on Wanda and overpower her with his stinky person, but her powers and the powerful stench surrounding him easily alerts her to his presence.

"If you try to touch me with your foul smell, I will punch you so hard, so fast, even your fastest running could not keep up with it," she snips, and he pauses.

"How did you know-"

"You smell like barbarian," she snaps, but she's laughing when she turns around. "I take it work out was good?"

"Fine," he answers blandly, trying not to give away the fact he feels like death personified.

Her smile fades away as she studies his face, and the way he holds himself stiffly. "You are in pain."

He debates lying to her, but knows she would know anyways. "Nemnogo."

"You worked too hard," she scolds him, but she keeps her voice down.

He shrugs off her worries, instead pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I am fine, myshka," he says. "But I smell. I need shower."

She doesn't seem convinced, but allows him to leave. "Clothes on your bed!" she calls after him.

Eventually he troops down to dinner, hair clean and fluffy, body properly relaxed and shiny. He's slipped on a pair of jeans, dark socks, a soft grey tee and a green flannel on.

For some reason, Laura looks very, very pleased.

oOoOo

Nemnogo-a little, slightly

Myshka-little mouse

Hope you liked it! Thanks for the support, guys; you are the bomb diggity. Hope to update soon!