For Scented Hairpin, who wants to see the Maximoff twins celebrate their birthday and doesn't care what age. Since I'm feeling so nice, you get three birthdays - but the main story (which this chapter acts as a kind of very extended prologue to) is their sixteenth.

1966

A rocket crash-landed on Venus, another flew around the Moon. Excited by the news, though she hardly even understood what it meant, Wanda decided that she wanted a space-party and Magda spent hours decorating the house with gold and silver shooting stars, hung papier-mache planets in fanciful colours. Nine and ten year-olds bounced around her house dressed up in deely-bopper antennae, played and squabbled and pretended to be spacemen. The twins were ten, and Magda would have done anything to make their birthday special, even with a four-year old to look after as well. Watched the children play and giggle with weary eyes, so tired she felt woozy just looking at them, but smiled all the same.

Felt just a little sad when she realised that all the little children she'd let into her house were Wanda's friends, not Peter's. A little grateful that her boy was so easy to amuse, so willing to let the others always make him chase in games of Tag, always be the Blind Man and the Piggy In The Middle, and never complain about it. Watched them with Lorna sleeping on her aching shoulder and was glad that the twins got on so well and never minded sharing their birthday – there was no way she could have done two parties so energetic.

Wanda made herself sick with excitement and birthday cake. Threw up all over her dress right after Magda had gratefully delivered the last of the little spacemen back to their parents. Peter went missing for an hour, driving her frantic until she had discovered him asleep under the table. Half-woke when she had picked him up and carried him down to his bed, muttered something sleepy in her ear about space-rockets and put his little arms around her neck, squeezed and made her almost weep with gratitude for her babies. Tired and headachy and dreading the clean-up, but so exquisitely happy that the two of them had had a good party.

Peter never asked to choose a party theme. Would have to be pressed and badgered to even ask for anything for his birthday. Seemed content to let his sister treat the day they shared as her own and to see her happy. Wanda asked for books, the way she always did – for a ten-year old she was crazy smart, and into some of the oddest topics. She would take Peter with her the next time she went into town, make him choose something he liked. No son of hers was getting away with not being spoiled for his tenth birthday.

He was smiling in his sleep, that silvery hair he'd somehow developed three years back falling in his eyes, and Magda wondered what was going on in that little head. Whether he was really happy to let his sister rule like a queen on their birthday or if he had some secret dream that he wouldn't dare to spoil Wanda's fun by insisting on. Wondered if ten-year olds even had such thoughts, or were capable of such selflessness. Kissed her son goodnight and left him sleeping.

1969

There wasn't a party, the year the twins turned thirteen. Magda had been expected them to demand the biggest, most extravagant celebration to mark their passing into their teens, had been prepared and forearmed against whatever Wanda would ask for – shocked when she had said she just wanted to spend the day at home with her family. Sure that she'd been planning her thirteenth birthday probably since the day she turned ten, unused to having to press her for a request, even more surprised when she had burst into angry tears at the kitchen table. Wanda just didn't do that sort of thing.

"I don't WANT a party, Mom!" she'd shouted, "What's wrong with that? There's no law against not having a birthday party!"

Then the toaster had exploded in a shower of red sparks, clanged to the floor smoking slightly. Magda looked at her daughter in shock, stared open-mouthed at the little wisps of red that were curling around her clenched fists, tears drying up immediately as her anger turned to panic. She had screamed then, which was definitely not a Wanda thing to do. Blowing things up, however because very much a Wanda thing for the next few months.

Exploding toaster or not, she still didn't want a party. Magda made spaghetti for them all, Lorna getting most of it on her face and little in her mouth, Wanda doing her best to be chatty and happy and enjoy their birthday, nudging her brother throughout the meal whenever he seemed to be drifting off into his own world, dark eyes glassy and faraway with not having slept for the past week. Magda had carried him to bed again that night. This time not sleepily curling his arms around her neck or dozing off under a table, but simply too exhausted and dizzy to walk downstairs. He'd called her back just as she had crept away to the stairs.

"Mom?" that little voice sounded so weary it hurt her, "Will you take Wanda out and have a good time, please? I feel bad that she didn't get a party this year"

She'd nodded, swallowed a lump that rose in her throat. Promised that she would and silently hoped that next year, Wanda would still have a brother to share her birthday with.

1972

"Only sweet people get a sweet sixteen y'know"

Peter didn't take his eyes off the ping-pong ball, effortlessly switching ends as he played against himself, keeping score in his head and glancing over at his sister. She looked mad. Somehow he didn't notice the football she aimed at the back of his head until it had hit.

"Oh sorry, Lard-Ass, didn't you see that coming?" she said, grinned as he rubbed his head and scowled at her, "I guess if only sweet people get a sweet sixteen then *you* won't be either. Unless you're actually becoming a Twinkie, which wouldn't surprise me"

"I'm sweet!" he protested, "At least I don't steal other people's shampoo"

"Are you STILL harping on about your stupid old lady shampoo?"

"I told you, I have to use that one or my hair goes all weird and dull!" he threw the football back at her. Wanda laughed as it missed by a mile.

"You're a horrible shot" she said, more gently. Brushed a couple of copies of Rolling Stone off Peter's bed and lay down, "Seriously though, what do you want to do for our birthday? We should make it a good one this year, we haven't had a party in years"

Peter was beside her in a blink, laying down comfortably with his hands behind his head, looked deep in thought.

"Don't you wanna choose?"

"I've chosen literally every party we've ever had. It's so your turn"

Thinking for a few moments more, a devilish grin spread across his face and he propped himself up on one elbow to face her, pushed his goggles back a little further to keep his hair out of his face

"How about we don't do a party this year?" He began, "How about instead, you and I can go make our own fun for the night?"

"Meaning?"

He grinned even wider, shuffled up to her and quickly leaned to make sure their mother was nowhere near the foot of the stairs. Cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered the plan into her ear. Wanda giggled, eyes wide and mischief lighting her face

"Oh you are so bad" she said…

"Well?"

"I'm in"