"Oh no, no, don't leave me lonely now,
If you loved me how'd you never learn?"
Ed Sheeran, Bloodstream.
It was a meaningless little thing.
He remembered the both of them, stuck in the rubble, fear cloying at their skin. He remembered feeling like the dust, ready to blow away into some news report in a far-off country. He remembered the whisper, "Are we going to die here…?" He remembered everything.
She hated small spaces, feared them. That was when he started it, the meaningless little thing. A simple touch, a grasp of fingers, a shoulder, a neck. Skin. Always skin. He caressed her shoulder when she leaned back toward him, clasped a hand around her small wrist when she felt claustrophobic, enfolded his hands around her face when tears and the thousands of voices caught in dreams woke her in the middle of the night.
To anyone who saw how close they were, it meant something almost sickening. But that wasn't it, how they worked, clicked, moved, breathed. And at the end of the day, they didn't care. To them, it meant comfort.
That was all that mattered.
It meant that everything would be okay. It meant they weren't stuck in the rubble with Stark staring back at them, winking for a death that never came. It meant they were invincible when they were together; a boy faster than a speeding bullet, a girl who could control minds and break reality. A boy and girl who didn't speak with words.
"Are you okay?" was a simple tickle-touch of fingers on the bottom side of her palm.
His touches were a language she understood before he ever took steps to murmur them into her skin. A steady blink told him that his little sister was unafraid. But he didn't need to see it to understand: he knew that all along. She was staring out at a battlefield, and a man with red skin stood by her side, as unafraid as she. Wanda opened her lips, nearly sighed.
He was long gone, but she knew he was still here. Always.
He let his fingers close themselves around hers; they fell through, naturally, but the message was clear.
"Together, always."
It probably was a meaningless little thing.
Her fingers answered. One swirl of her wrist. Two. Sheknew.
"Together. Always."
It was then that Pietro realized she was going to be alright. He smiled into nothingness, emptiness.
Wanda had already lost the moment, but she knew.
Ghosts weren't cold creatures. The warmth of her hand told her that.
It was probably a meaningless little thing. But it was his, hers, theirs.