"You know," she looked at Pietro beside her, "tapping your foot won't make these," she nodded to the pancakes she was miraculously not burning, "cook any faster." They were in Stark's enormous kitchen, where she had, for some unknown - and regrettable - reason, offered to make the deliciousness that were pancakes. But Pietro didn't quite understand the fact that it took time to make that breakfast food. He had gone from what she would call almost flirtatious to impatient and entirely annoying as soon as they had entered the kitchen.

"I know! But what is taking it so long?" he ruffled his silver hair in frustration.

"Do me a favor; go get plates so I have something to put them on when they're done." As soon as the words left her mouth, the honey strands of her hair flew up into her face as the wind whistled past her. Not even a millisecond later, the china plates with placed with brute force on the granite counter top beside her.

"Are they done now?" His sister sighed.

"Patience, brother." His only reply was to plant himself on the countertop, glaring at the pan that housed the pancakes. Lana broke his staring contest with the pancakes, because in all honesty, the pancakes were probably going to win.

"You guys are truly polar opposites."

"Yes, we are. But I think that is why we are so close." Wanda looked fondly towards her brother, who was now frantically going through the refrigerator. Her attention was brought back to Lana. "Why are you here?" Lana raised an eyebrow.

"Why am I in this kitchen making pancakes for your impatient brother, or why I'm stuck dealing with Stark and SHIELD?"

"The latter."

"They, SHIELD, or whatever it is, think I'm useful."

"And are you?"

"Of course!" She held up the spatula, "Look at me, being all domestic! I do make great pancakes, I'll have you know." she looked down. "But in truth, they think I can help them. Help them with gauge whether the god of lies in lying or not." she let out a small laugh, shaking her head all the while.

"I don't envy you." A first pancake was placed on the plate that Pietro had so kindly provided.

"I don't envy me either." The blonde said in a serious tone.

"You're like him, you know." Lana let out a small splutter at those words. Her? Like Loki? Oh, no.

"I'll have you know - " Wanda held up a hand.

"I didn't mean it as an insult. When I tried to read him, I got small fragments, if anything." her eyes flashed red for a split second. "It's the same with you. I look at you, and I get small fragments of hate and sorrow, but that's it. There are no memories, or thoughts."

"I wonder if that's because we're both practiced liars." She joked as she plopped a second and third pancake down.

"No, your Fury is also a practised liar, along with Romanov and Barton. I can read them easily."

"Well, that is weird. Can you read your brother?" A fourth pancake was added.

"Yes, but I try not to."

"I can see why. Never get into a man's head; it's a gutter."

"Oh, you have no idea." a slightly disgusted look appeared on the brunettes face before disappearing.

"I'm glad I don't." She turned sideways to place a pancake on the growing pile to discover the first four pancakes were missing. "PIETRO." she looked behind her to discover him devouring the pancakes. They never stood a chance.

"I'm hungry." was his simple reply as he walked up beside and slung his arm around her shoulders. She glared at him and ducked under his arm.

"Then go raid an pancake house or something." she mumbled under her breath. She felt a whoosh of air as he exited. "I DIDN'T MEAN THAT LITERALLY." she yelled after his long gone self. And a whoosh of air? That felt familiar. She shook her her head, and she turned to Wanda. "Seriously?" the blonde asked in regards to her brothers sudden exit.

She shrugged. "Like he said, he was hungry. And besides, now these pancakes have a chance to be eaten by someone else other than him."

"Fair point. I knew liked you, Wanda." the brunette cracked a smile.

"You weren't what I was expecting you to be." she replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lana squeaked, wondering what on Earth that could mean.

"I thought you would be angry, but cold. I can see a bit of anger, but you aren't that cold."

"Thanks. I think." a clatter was heard from behind them as a platter of pancakes and eggs appeared, but no Pietro.

"Where did he go?" she groaned as she saw that.

"He's probably going to get more, so that we might have a chance at eating, too. He has manners, despite what you've seen." Lana looked skeptically at her, before she suddenly found herself sitting in a chair with Pietro sitting across from her. The pancakes she had made in his short absence were already gone. She rolled her eyes, before becoming overcome with about of nausea.

Wanda, who elected to actually walk, sat down beside her, and glared at her brother. "Pietro, you could have just let her walk. Look at her face. It looks green." And that it did. Lana was unusually pale as she swayed slightly back and fourth in her chair.

"It would have taken too long."

"For me to walk twenty feet? It would've taken too long?" Lana said incredulously, her wide grey eyes meeting his blue ones. "I don't like looking like the Hulk, thanks."

"No offence, Lana, but you are very slow. And you," he sad, giving her body a once over, "do not look like the Hulk."

"One, I'm not slow. You're a wee bit to fast, maybe?" she said, clutching her stomach. "Two, stop looking at me like that." He ignored her second comment, only choosing to answer the first.

"No, you're too slow. So," he looked up briefly from where he was shovelling his face full of food, "why do you hate this Loki?"

"Because he's an ass. And a murderer. He tried to take over the planet. Destroyed things..." she listed on her fingers, "Same 'ol, same 'ol."

"So, you want to tear off his head simply for the reason he is a murderer?"

"I thought your sister was the mind reader. And I didn't say I actually wanted to tear his head off." he snorted. "Okay, yesterday I told him I preferred him burning alive." she admitted.

"Very funny. But what is your personal reason?"

"I read in your files that Stark weaponry was used when you were ten, when your family died." Pietro stayed silent, his fork down. "Because Stark created that technology, you hated him. You wanted to make him suffer."

"Yes." Pietro looked at her with a blank face, a blank face she knew all too well.

"Three years ago, in the conflict Loki caused, my brother died. He was the last thing I had. And Loki took him from me." she leaned back in her chair. "So, I guess that's why I hate him. In Stark's case, he has at least one redeeming quality, even if I don't know what that quality is. But Loki. he doesn't even care. He killed to kill, to cause chaos." The twins continued to be silent, both with newfound understanding etched onto their faces. "So, that's why I hate him. The other night, he cornered me on the roof, and tried to crack me by bringing up my brother. But - "

"You let me know if he does that again, yes? I'll help." he nodded vigorously in affirmation that he would help with Loki. Lana thought it was sweet, albeit annoying and bit too eager for her liking.

"You just met me. You don't need to offer to push some idiot off the roof for me. Or something." he shook his head. Wanda, knowing her brother stubbornness, tried to change the subject.

"Lana, where you born?" she asked, leaning forwards onto her forearms.

"There's an interesting question." she said, internally glad to be off the subject of Loki. "Dubrovnik, Croatia."

"So, you are from Eastern Europe, like us?" Pietro asked, eyes brightening a little.

"Yeah, I guess so. But Dubrovnik, the little I remember of it growing up, had a lot of western influence. And left when I was ten."

"Why - "

"Lana! You made us all breakfast!" Stark said, bursting in, none of the others with him, gesturing to the several plates of food that were mostly gone, thanks to Pietro.

"Ah. Um, no. He ate all the breakfast I made." she pointed accusingly at Pietro.

"Then what's all this?" he spread his arms wide to the mess of breakfast food.

"I plead the fifth." Lana crossed her arms.

"I don't think that means what you think it means."

"You would know. How many times have you been in court?" she questioned. "Or have you never been, because you've obviously never done aaaaaaanything wrong?" She widened her eyes innocently, daring him to contradict her.

"Yeah, I'm not answering that. So, spill where did this all come from?" he gestured to the many plates of food.

"I brought them." Pietro replied with a full mouth.

"Brought or bought?" Pietro's response was to just shovel more food into his mouth.

"I'll take that as a brought, not bought, then. What was the name of the place so I can pay them back?"

"I didn't happen to catch it."

"Of course not." He walked over to a section of wall on the far side of the room, and pushed on a wooden panel, revealing a door. Stark walked into it, and a few moments later, brought out a bottle of vodka. "Some juice, if anyone wants some." he said, sitting down at the table with several glasses.

"Do you just have alcohol closets in every room, then?"

"Pretty much."

"You are unbelievable."

"I know, right? I'm like a unicorn, if you know what I mean." he waggled his eyebrows. Lana turned pink.

"I'm gonna just assume you were talking about the magical creature, then."

"What is a unicorn?" Wanda questioned.

"It's a creature from myth. It's like a horse that has a horn coming out from the middle of it's forehead."

"How strange." Wanda slowly shook her head. Lana glanced around the table, at the two men in particular, and realized the trouble makers that they were.

"Yesterday's dinner was bad. This is even worse, and it's just the four of us. What's gonna happen at dinner tonight?" she asked, a horrified expression on her face.

"Lot's of fun, and lot's of alcohol." was Stark's oh-so promising reply. She groaned loudly and slammed her head into the table, gaining a pat on the back from Wanda.

"You don't have to take the couch; I'm fine sharing the bed." Natasha said as Lana dropped her bag beside the sofa.

"I know. It's just I never seem to stay on my designated side of the bed, and you're an assassin. If I accidentally surprise you by rolling onto your side of the bed, well, I would kind of die."

"Good point." she pulled out a chair and sat on it. "But we could probably get another bed in here, if you wanted."

"That just seems like too much trouble. And besides, I'll probably get put back in my room soon enough, after Stark has upgraded and fortified everything, that is." She didn't even want to think of the kid of security he was adding to the tower, much less to her room.

"Yeah, you're right." She got up again and made to exit the room before turning around sharply. "Don't go through my stuff. And I expect you in the gym in three hours."

"Why?" Lana said with a horror written all over her face, realizing what Natasha was getting at.

"Your training." the assassin said, grinning, before swiftly leaving the room, leaving a terrified Lana in her wake.

They had said that she had to live in the tower for an indefinite period, but that didn't say anything about having to stay in it 24/7. This is what brought Lana out onto the windy, snowy streets of NYC. She didn't really know what to do, now that she was out there. If her brother had a body to be buried, she would have gone to visit his grave. But he didn't. That was part of incineration, she supposed. How pitiful is it that the only thing I can think to do in one of the busiest cities in the world, full of people, alive, is to find some way to visit Alex? she shook her head. Really pitiful. her mind replied. She shook her head again, this time rapidly, trying to clear it in the brisk air.

She drove her glove less hands deep into her pockets as the wind created a heavy gust of air, chilling her to the core. Food, I want food. Because to be honest, she had't had that much to eat that morning, seeing as Pietro had nearly eaten everything. That boy most certainly had a metabolism on him. How he wasn't a gigantic blob, she would never know. Well, actually, she did, but still.

She eventually, after being extremely picky in deciding what greasy food looked the most edible, picked a hamburger. After paying, she was about to take a bite when it disappeared from her hands. She seethed. "PIETRO." she yelled, looking for the silver haired speedster.

"You called?" he said, suddenly appearing beside her, eating her hamburger.

"That was my hamburger." she fumed at him, looking at her prized meal being eaten.

"Yes, it was. But I don't think you want it."

"And why not?"

"Because you're late to your appointment with Agent Romanov. She tracked your phone and sent me to retrieve you."

"Have I really been out here that long?" she asked, mainly to herself. "And talk about over reaction." He shrugged, and looked at the watch that adorned his wrist.

"Well, as of this moment, you are ten minutes late." he said, rapidly chewing the hamburger.

"Ten minutes?" she monotoned. "She sent you because I was ten minutes late?" He shrugged again.

"Apparently, she has her reasons. So," he grabbed her wrist, "we should get back, yes?" she hissed at him, as that wrist happened to be bandaged with a burn underneath.

"Generally speaking, grabbing a bandaged body part never ends well." she wheezed bending over in pain.

"Fine." he hoisted her up bridal style, causing the normally stoic New Yorkers to look in surprise.

"Pietro, you put me down right - PIETRO." she screamed as he suddenly sped off.

So, I'm not very sure about this chapter, but it was fun to right. I guess it's more of a filler chapter than anything else. But, guys, I was overwhelmed by all the attention this story has gotten within the past few days! Thank you so, so much! And a lot of you guys had been asking if this is going to be a Pietro/OC. To be honest, I'm not quite sure, but it is leaning that way for the time being. So thank you all so much! You guys keep inspiring me to write! And if you guys have any questions or suggestions, just let me know. And if you like it, follow and favourite!

-Sisko