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I suppose we now enter 'Part Two' of the story. It's probably about halfway done, so plan on three or four more chapters.
Enjoy!
Pietro hadn't meant to take things too far.
Honestly, he hadn't.
He'd just wanted to play a practical joke and get a little reaction out of Wanda. But now everyone was mad at him, he was facing thousands of dollars in damages, and his sister wasn't even speaking to him.
Things could have gone better.
It had all started earlier that morning, when he'd seen that stupid painting at the Met…
"What do you think of this?" Pietro eyed the painting in front of him critically. It was one of those Madonna type ones from the Renaissance period, by an artist with a foreign name that he knew he probably wouldn't be able to say without butchering it completely.
"It's beautiful." Wanda replied, looking at the row of small white cherubs around the painting's border.
"So, are you excited for the party tonight?" Thor was leaving for Asgard to return Loki's scepter, and Tony was throwing a big party to see him off. Pietro was beginning to wonder if Tony threw parties just for the sake of having something to celebrate-and a chance to show off all his new Iron Man suits. He'd been in Avengers Tower for about three weeks now and he'd already had to attend two fancy parties-which each required a new tuxedo.
Wanda shrugged. "There will be a lot of people there." She'd always been shy around large groups of people-even before the shelling.
"There always are at these types of things. Do you have an outfit picked out?" Pietro had had to go shopping for a new suit the night before and had resented every minute of it.
"Yes. Tony's assistant, Pepper, took me dress shopping."
"Sounds fun." As Wanda began to chatter on about her new dress, Pietro turned to look at the paintings on the other side of the room. One in particular caught his attention-a painting of the Boston Massacre. Soldiers in blue coats and soldiers in red coats were firing back and forth at each other, while two or three men lay bleeding out on the ground. Their blood looked so fake-just a slash or a dab of bright red paint across a gritty cloth canvas.
And that was how Pietro got his bright idea.
The guests started arriving almost two hours before the party was officially supposed to start. Pietro had thought he would be overdressed in his black tie outfit-but almost everyone else was dressed even more formally than he was. Even Natasha had picked out a dress of midnight black-and she wasn't the only one. There had to be at least two hundred guests, all spread out across the tower.
Wanda was wearing a blood red dress dripping with rhinestones. She looked almost out of place in all that finery when Pietro remembered that they'd had to wear rags for years; even a handful of the jewels that bedecked her collar bone could have kept them fed for a full six months if they had been trading through the black market. She smiled at him as he took a seat next to her, sipping from a champagne glass. "Hello."
"Hi. You look very nice."
"Thank you."
Just then, Clint walked in. "Why aren't the two of you enjoying the party?" Belatedly, Pietro supposed that they were being just a little antisocial, ensconced as they were in the tower's penthouse apartment with an eight foot flat screen television and five seasons of Game of Thrones on click.
Pietro shrugged. "We don't really know anyone, in case you forgot."
"Well, get to know them then. They all want to meet you."
He exchanged a glance with Wanda. "Do they know about…us?"
"Well, they know that you're fast and she's weird. No offense. They don't know that you died and came back to life."
"You know what? I think I'll stay here and watch television." The HYDRA base where he'd spent most of the past five years hadn't had a proper TV, and what they did show was simply government propaganda; Pietro had a lot of watching to do to catch up with all the new shows.
"I'll come downstairs." Wanda said, surprising them both. "Could be fun. And I can always come back up if I get bored, right?"
"Of course." Clint followed her outside and Pietro heard their footsteps fade away as they reached the stairwell to the lower levels. Immediately, he sprang up from the couch and ran into the bathroom to begin his plan.
He pulled out a bucket of red paint he'd picked up at the dollar store, ripped his tux just slightly, and painted thick swathes of red across his chest and the carpet. It would be hard to clean up, but it would be worth it. He wanted to get a reaction out of Wanda, just a little one. And then they would laugh about it all later. After all, this was one of the oldest pranks in their book-although he hadn't tried it for a few years.
He sprawled out on the floor and gave his best impression of playing dead. Don't drag it out too long. Just long enough, he coached himself.
Pietro waited for a long time. The paint soon began to dry; he kept having to go over it again so it would look convincing. He also had time to have doubts about the whole thing. Was it really necessary to go through with it? What if something went wrong?
He shifted nervously. It was just a prank. He'd done it before and it hadn't bothered Wanda then.
Just then, the door opened and he let himself go limp. His eyes were tightly shut.
A piercing scream split the night air in two and he felt Wanda drop to her knees next to him. "Pietro!" she cried, grabbing his hand and automatically feeling for a pulse. Pietro was shocked to realize that she was trembling profusely, almost hyperventilating.
He sat up quickly. "Fooled you." He tried to smile, but it felt forced even to him.
For a while, there was dead silence. And then Wanda slapped him so hard he knew it would probably leave a bruise. Her eyes were tinged with red; in fact, she seemed almost to be on fire. "How dare you." she whispered. Her voice was low and dangerous. "How dare you play mind games with me like that."
"Wanda, it was just a-"
"For a minute I thought you were dead. I thought you had actually died."
"I didn't mean to-"
"But you did, Pietro. How could you do that?" She looked like she was either going to cry or slap him again.
"I wasn't thinking-"
"Of course you weren't. You obviously didn't once think about how hard these past couple weeks have been for me-first you're dead, now you're not, now you are, and then it turns out you were just playing a game. Well, let me tell you something: the time for games is long over."
"I'm sorry."
Her eyes sparked. "Sorry isn't good enough. She sent a hex hurling directly at his head. He ducked to avoid it; the magic smashed into the back wall with a loud crash and a smell like burning drywall.
They both stared at the carnage, which still smoked hotly. Pietro couldn't believe that she'd actually tried to strike him like that. Of course, she'd hexed him sometimes just to get back at him once or twice, but she'd never used raw power or intensity like that. He was sure if he hadn't ducked in time his head would have been completely blown off. But things had changed now. Things had changed in a seismic way. "Wanda-"
"No. just stop it." She looked about as shocked as he felt.
"Well, it would be nice if you talked to me once in a while. I was trying to get a rise out of to you, so I could see for myself that you weren't really made out of stone. You don't tell me anything anymore. You barely talk to me, except for when we train. I don't understand what your problem is, and I can't make it better since you won't tell me anything."
Her eyes flashed and more energy streamed from her hands. It crashed harmlessly into the window with the sound of breaking glass, but Pietro had to duck again just to be certain.
"Fine. Game on."
Pietro soon forgot what they were fighting over. He was running circles around her as she sent ball after ball of florid energy chasing after him with the force of a speeding train. He'd never seen her get this worked up, even during the Battle of Sokovia. Wanda had always been the grounded one, level and calm. She was the one that thought things through and usually made the best decisions. But now it seemed like all of that had gone out the window, and he knew it was his fault.
The door to the room burst open and Tony walked inside, followed by the other Avengers. "What just happened in here and how much is it going to cost me to replace?"
Pietro stopped for a minute, as did Wanda. For the first time he saw what the others must have been seeing-they were both covered in dust and red paint, shaking and upset. The room was in shambles. The TV lay in four pieces, its screen smashed in. The floor was covered in broken glass and red paint. "Wanda kind of…lost it."
Wanda glared at him, but no power shot from her hands. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have gotten upset if you hadn't pretended to be dead!"
Everyone turned to face Pietro, so he raised his hands in surrender. "This is not what it looks like."
Abruptly, Wanda brushed past him and out of the room. Now there was no doubt about it-she was tearing up. Pietro felt terrible about it. He turned to follow her but Clint reached the doorway first. "I'll go make sure she's all right."
"I can-"Pietro cut in, but the archer easily brushed him off.
"Might not be the best idea, in case she starts hexing stuff again."
Steve waited until his footsteps had faded away before he turned back to Pietro. His eyes flashed almost distrustfully, but there was nothing accusing in his voice when he asked Pietro "Care to explain what happened in here?"
"She hasn't been acting like herself recently-"
"So you thought it was a good idea to provoke her?" Natasha retorted.
Pietro felt Steve's hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle. "Pietro and I are going to get some shawarma. Back in an hour."
Wanda wiped more tears from her eyes furiously, discarding the soaked tissue with a small huff. She didn't want to cry and yet she didn't know how to make herself stop. She didn't even know why she'd gone so crazy, to be honest-maybe just the shock and the stress. That one terrible moment…she knew he hadn't meant to do that to her, it had probably never even crossed his mind since he didn't really think like that, but it stung just the same.
Why had that paint had to look so much like the real thing?
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door to her bedroom. "Hey, Wanda. Can I come in?" Clint asked.
"Sure." she replied, trying to make it look like she hadn't just had a meltdown. She wished he wouldn't come in, but she knew from personal experience that neither he nor any of the other Avengers could be dissuaded easily.
He stepped inside, still in his tux. "Doing all right?"
"Not really." she replied.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry I blew up the room-"
"Hey, don't worry about it. You couldn't help it. Besides, Tony has enough money to buy a small South American country. He can easily replace it."
"I didn't mean to. It's just that…" She realized who she was talking to and stopped abruptly. She'd never opened up to anyone, other than Pietro of course, and she wasn't about to start now.
"You can tell me." Clint prompted. "I can keep secrets."
"When I saw him lying on the floor like that, for one second I lost all my rational ability to think. I thought the paint was blood and that I'd failed him again."
"Again? What do you mean?"
"He died. I should have been there to save him."
"You can't possibly think that. Wanda, if you hadn't protected that core, one of the Ultron bots would have gotten to it and we'd all be dead. What you did during the battle was just as important as what Pietro did."
"And when I saw him like that, I thought-"
"I know. I'm sorry you got scared. You know he wasn't really trying to hurt you. He was just being impulsive."
"I just…have these dreams where he dies again and there's nothing I can do about it. Tonight, I was convinced that dream had just come true."
"The best advice I can give you is that we could die at any moment-Pietro, you, me, anyone. We don't have time to worry about whether or not the people we love are going to be taken from us. All we can do is make the most of the time we do have with them." He handed her a cocktail napkin from downstairs and waited for her to (mostly) dry her eyes. "Listen, I'm on furlough for a week back at the farm. I was wondering if you and Pietro would like to come see it while I'm there. It could keep you away from everything that's been going on around here. You can meet Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. How would you like that?"
Wanda managed a smile that was only slightly watery. "I would love it. Thank you, Clint."
"Anytime. Maybe you should think about telling Pietro what you told me. It could help him understand."
She resolved to think about it, although she wasn't sure her brother would ever really understand. He hadn't been there. He hadn't experienced what she'd experienced. But it was worth a shot, in any case. "Yeah. Maybe I will."
The shawarma restaurant was nearly deserted at this time of night. The teenage boy who served them, the same boy who had greeted them on their last visit, seemed to be falling asleep on his feet as he stumbled to the kitchen to put in their orders.
Pietro shook his glass of iced tea nervously. Ice cubes clinking together as they passed each other. "I screwed up."
Steve nodded. "Yeah. I would say you did."
"I didn't mean to. I'd done this prank before. She was fine with it then-"
"That was before she watched you die. Did you think about that? Didn't you think that might have upset her just a little bit, having to bring up all those memories that I'm sure she wants to keep hidden?"
"Well, when you say it like that-"
"She needs to know that you're not going to leave her again-or any time soon. I think she wants to be sure she can still trust you."
"I'm her brother."
"Right. And three weeks ago, you were dead. Give her time-and please don't get her worked up again. It would be nice to keep the Tower intact-for as long as we can, in any case."
Pietro nodded. "Sure."
Just then, the shawarma arrived and they spent a little while making sure they had sufficient napkins and silverware. "So, are you going to Clint's farm with Wanda later in the week?"
"Clint has a farm? Since when?"
"I know, right? I just learned about it myself."
"Anyway, I'd like to go but I don't think Wanda and I are on the best of terms at the moment."
"The two of you will figure something out. You're too close to let a little something like this get in the way, although I wouldn't do any more practical jokes for quite a while."
Pietro nodded and dug into his shawarma. He really hoped Steve was right.
He had to find a way to reconcile with his sister. Maybe things could never be the way they were before, but Pietro was determined to try.
Next up: the farm!
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