Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of a key sliding into a lock sliced through the silence of the Queens apartment. The sound earned the competing noise of claws sliding against wood in their quick pursuit of the door.

As the door came unlocked and was pushed open, laughter flooded into the apartment as a dog released a quick bark.

“Frankie!” A man, with white hair and an accented voice, exclaimed. He crouched down and allowed the dog to jump into his owner’s arms.

The door was shut and another man, dark hair and cheeks flushed pink from the cold, grinned as he locked the door. He walked past the pair on the floor and tossed his keys onto the coffee table in the living room.

The apartment itself had an open floor plan, coming out as neither a large or small apartment, but the kitchen connected to the living room and the table they considered a dining room. A hallway led to what could only be assumed to be a bedroom or two.

“I told you from the moment that we got that dog that he’d love you more than me, Pietro.” The dark haired man commented as he sat down next to Pietro.

Pietro chuckled and leaned away from the dog slightly, trying his best to nudge Frankie in the direction of the other man, “He loves you too, you dork,” He countered, “Especially because you were the one to bring him home, Peter.” Which was correct; Peter was the one to bring home Frankie after he found him abandoned in some alleyway during patrol one night. The dog, a mix of some sort of breeds but maintaining a small size, had a collar, his name, Franklin, being proudly proclaimed, but after being called, the owners wanted nothing to do with their dog. So, Peter brought the dog home and got him a new collar and a new nickname: Frankie. Pietro didn’t have any complaints at least.

Frankie took the nudge easily and twisted towards Peter, running into his stomach and taking Peter’s pats and pets eagerly for only a few seconds before running back to Pietro.

Peter rolled his eyes and stood, “Told you.” He removed his coat, old and worn, and tossed it onto the couch. Behind him, Pietro stood. The white haired man called the dog’s name and opened his arms for the dog when he jumped into his owner’s arms.

Pietro gave a short laugh, “Maybe it's because I’m the birthday boy, Pete. Our dog knows how to treat a man on his birthday.”

Peter turned to face Pietro, “And I don’t?” He countered, a grin growing on his face.

Frankie jolted in Pietro’s arms, tilting his head in order to lick Pietro’s cheek. Pietro shifted the dog in his arms, moving Frankie to one arm, ignoring the small grimace Peter emitted at the dog’s action, “I never said that, моја љубав.” He reached forward with his free hand and placed a finger under Peter’s chin, tilting Peter’s head up, “You were absolutely amazing today.”

“Even with the whole getting called to my old high school because some Goblin copycat felt the need to cause a ruckus?” Peter filled in, placing his hands on Pietro’s hips.

Pietro hummed in agreement, “It was fun,” He admitted with a grin, “It’s not everyday I get to beat up asshole teens.”

“Y’know, you were one of those asshole teens once.”

“Yes, but at least I had reasoning,” Pietro replied, stepping away from Peter to let Frankie down. The dog scurried away to bite on a stray dog toy. “I had to watch my parents be killed and then got experimented on by HYDRA.” He continued, tone easy but the truth behind his words frightening, “We shouldn’t forget about the times I have watched you almost die, as well.”

Peter frowned at that, “Pie—”

Pietro waved his hand dismissively, “But we’ve already argued about that this week,” he walked back over to Peter and placed his hands on the man’s waist, “Now, I’d like to enjoy the rest of my birthday.”

Peter took a moment, pushing away his worries about Pietro’s concerns, before he smiled and responded by wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, “Big twenty six,” Peter reminded, “How’s it feel?”

Pietro pulled Peter closer with a snort, “No different than twenty five,” he replied, “I’ve already got the white hair for old age, but my body takes aging pretty well.”

“I'll say so myself; you look pretty much the same as when you were seventeen.”

“Just more handsome and rugged?”

Peter sighed and pressed a kiss to Pietro’s cheek, “Definitely,” He responded, aiming to please his boyfriend despite how he saw the man as the same boy he met eight years ago.

Pietro seemed pleased enough though, despite seeing through Peter’s loose agreement, as he smirked, “Good to know, моја љубав.” He leaned in towards Peter, “Happy birthday to me?”

“Happy birthday, Maximoff.” Peter answered easily, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Pietro’s.

Pietro grinned against Peter’s lips briefly before responding eagerly, pulling Peter closer. Peter’s hand trailed up Pietro’s neck, tangling into the other man’s hair. The feeling of affection and joy seemed to go both ways in the moment, especially with the reminder of the day in mind.

The kiss itself was slow, with no definite desire for a certain time of payoff.

When Pietro tried to lower Peter down onto their couch though, his side only repaid him in burning with familiar pain. He winced, not going unnoticed by Peter, and gently pulled away from his boyfriend. He seemed apologetic, which Peter hoped to ease away, “Maybe not tonight, huh?” He asked.

Pietro shrugged, mildly annoyed while his hand hovered over his side, “I suppose the copycat Goblin really made his point.”

Peter walked away from the couch and stepped towards Pietro, hooking a thumb under the hem of Pietro’s sweater and pulled the fabric of his top up in order to check in on the man’s bandaged side.

All seemed okay to Peter, but he stepped a slight step away and ran a hand through his hair, “Maybe we should call it a night and see how you’re doing tomorrow, babe.”

Pietro, despite his recovering of the shot of pain, smiled at the pet name, “Lead the way then, Parker.” He held his hand out towards Peter, glad when the man took his hand and lead him towards their bedroom. Pietro, before they entered their bedroom, let out a short whistle that had Frankie frantically running to follow after his owners.

Going through their nighttime routine was easy enough; Frankie waiting on the edge of the bed, his eyes close to shutting with sleep.

Peter took extra care with getting undressed, trying his best to not ruin his only fancy clothes. Once those were folded and placed aside as a reminder for laundry, he started the process of getting out of his spidersuit, of which he was still in the habit of wearing under his clothes most days.

Peter, Clint, and Wanda had planned Pietro’s birthday dinner weeks in advance. Pietro wasn’t one for expensive dinners, especially if others were paying for him, but the man knew when to accept something as a gift. Hell, he had to once accept Tony’s offer of peace with giving them a spot on the team. But, this restaurant was where the team had gone for James’ 38th (108th) and Pietro had been talking about his meal for weeks, despite not having to pay for it due to Tony’s stubbornness when it came to who was paying.

So, Peter had approached Clint and Wanda to request their help in making the day great for Pietro, something Peter had always done his best to do. Twenty six felt more special though, perhaps because of its leaning toward thirty and passing that halfway mark. Likely, it felt like this way due to the threatening careers both men led.

Peter had started the day with waking Pietro up with an excited Frankie and a bowl of cereal (they may be able to support themselves and a dog well enough, but that didn’t mean they could splurge for more than one expensive meal in a day).

After breakfast, the three met up with Wanda, Natasha, and their twins, who had all flown out from California, to go see a movie and to go for ice cream. Wanda, herself, had confidently told Peter and friends that she’d rather Pietro have the dinner to himself rather than share it with her. Apparently, she had invited all the same people attending Pietro’s dinner, mostly, to her own home in California for her own birthday dinner. It was the first time, that Peter knew of, that Pietro and Wanda were alright with having their birthdays separate like this, but maybe it was a late in life search for a shred of independence from each other.

So, seeing his sister and his nephews was enough to keep Pietro smiling for the rest of the day too, especially with the reminder that he would also get to visit Wanda at her home in a few days time. With that, meeting up with Peter (and Pietro’s) friends along with Clint and James made Pietro’s day even better.

This man, Peter had learned over time, loved to be social just as much as he loved his alone time (meaning: Peter and Pietro). It meant a lot to him; seeing the people he cared about. And now, after eight years, that list had gone from one Wanda Maximoff to more people than he could count on two hands.

So dinner that night had been loud and fantastic with the large group made up of the Avengers and friends. Until each Avenger at the dinner table, minus Wanda and Natasha due to their now living in California and lack of fighting on the team, got the alert about the fake Goblin and had to put the dinner on pause to go deal with the issue.

The only people who had to stay behind were Wanda, Natasha, their twins, Aunt May, MJ, Harry, Ned, Ned’s fiancé Betty, Peter (for only a few minutes to avoid revealing his secret identity to the rest of the restaurant. He had given in and revealed his being Spider-Man to his friends a few years ago), Laura, Garrett, Cooper, Lila, and Cassie. Scott had been torn about leaving his daughter alone, but she had taken to Cooper in the past years they had known each other, so Hope made sure to remind him of such a fact before they were off.

Peter had personally thought that bringing all the Avengers at the table was a bit overkill, until he saw the damage the goblin kid had already done. Apparently, he did a pretty good job at making his own bombs. Peter had also been concerned about Harry’s reaction to the event, but he only gave Peter a small smile, albeit slightly shaky.

Harry had come far since his… time as the Goblin. It was something that actually made Peter glad a man was dead. That Norman Osborn was dead.

Knowing that Harry had been sick and been convinced that becoming the monster his father dreamed about was what created the Goblin had torn Peter apart those few years ago. But, with the help that Peter forced himself to accept, he managed to help Harry and rid of the Goblin.

And yet, somehow, Peter convinced himself to not turn Harry in for the crimes the Goblin committed. Maybe it would always be the one time Peter let himself play both sides. Maybe he’d regret it later in life. He couldn’t tell.

But Harry was better now, even if he could never be the Harry he once was. He had made good friends with Clint and James especially after that; shared experience maybe, Peter supposed.

When the team returned from the unexpected Avengers call, bruised and accomplished, the remaining guests had ordered and finished dessert. Cooper and Cassie, both aged sixteen, had taken to entertaining Lila to the best of their abilities and Peter’s childhood friends had taken up conversation with the rest of the adults.

With dinner coming to a close after their return, Peter and Pietro had planned to pay for the dinner themselves, but were stopped when Clint announced that he had covered the meal himself. “You two have to support your little dog child,” he had loosely excused.  He let Pietro attempt to argue with him, waiting out the mild anger and frustration before Pietro gathered the archer up in a hug.

Pietro had denied gifts then, claiming that if anyone did get him anything, they had to send it to California so he could open the gifts alongside his sister like every other holiday they had in the past eight years.

So returning home to their apartment had gone pretty nicely for Peter and Pietro. They thanked everyone for coming and bid them goodbye before their own departure, but, now, preparing for sleep was welcomed after their busy day.

Pietro raised his arms above his head, stretching and catching Peter’s attention as he walked in from the bathroom. The white haired man’s back was facing Peter, the pale skin being a welcomed sight to him.

He grinned to himself instead, pulling on an old pair of pajama pants and Pietro’s hoodie from some concert he went to with Wanda a few years ago. As he sighed and pulled back the covers of their bed, Pietro was pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. After Peter laid down and pulled the covers over him, Frankie eagerly crawled over and settled down next to Peter.

Pietro flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness, before he settled down in bed next to Peter. Almost immediately, Pietro scooted towards Peter, moving to his side to face his boyfriend. Peter did the same, letting a hand come to rest on Frankie’s back.

The two got comfortable, Pietro’s hand finding purchase on a slice of exposed skin on Peter’s side and the other folding under his head.

Peter tilted his head forwards, catching Pietro’s lips in a sweet kiss. As the man pulled away slowly, Pietro leaned forward and caught Peter for another kiss, smiling to himself when he pulled away.

“Happy birthday, Pietro.” Peter said, quietly as if worried about disrupting the silence in the room.

Pietro’s hand trailed up further on Peter’s side, “Thank you for making it so amazing, kochanie.” He mumbled. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter smiled, expression soft and intimate, “I love you too.”

Later in the night, after the three had all fallen asleep with Frankie gravitating towards the end of the bed and Pietro having wrapped himself around Peter, a voice echoed loud and clear.

“Pietro”

Pietro startled awake, only jostling Peter enough to cause his brows to furrow momentarily.

Pietro’s heart raced and he looked around the room.

But it was silent. Absolutely silent.

Frankie hadn’t budged and Peter hadn’t awoken. For a moment, Pietro took a long look at him. Peter was Spider-Man, he had that spider-sense thing. If someone was in their apartment… Peter would know.

Pietro tried his best to settle down again, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how close, how real , that voice sounded.

But it must’ve just been some fucked up mind thing. Something he must’ve dreamt up.

⊗  

Peter had to work early in the morning the next day, working at the Daily Bugle for half the day and then heading to Stark Industries, but, overall, managed to get home around six that night. Pietro had gone to see Wanda, Natasha, and their kids off late in the afternoon, driving them to the airport with a borrowed car from Tony, despite favoring running, and bid them goodbye and a reminder of getting to see them again by the end of the week when he would be heading to California.

So, for the rest of the day, until Peter was home, Pietro had taken to visiting the mismatched Barton family. Since Laura, Garrett, Cooper, and Lila’s sudden and recent appearance in New York, the details Pietro never begged for but knew the gist of, they had taken to living in Clint’s apartment building in Bed-Stuy. He, James, and Lucky had moved into one of the apartments a few years ago after they wished for their own space away from the Avenger life, which meant Clint revealing the fact alone that he had purchased the apartment building years ago. The apartment building wasn’t much admittedly, not close to very large and rundown in some places, but it was overall homey.

Laura and family seemed like a tight fit in their apartment, but apparently they were in the process of finding their own, safe home soon enough.

So, Pietro had taken to visiting the crew.

Pietro stopped in front of Clint’s apartment door, already hearing the murmur of conversation from inside. He knocked on the door and barely had to wait at all before someone was opening the door. Pietro came face-to-face with Cooper.

The teen, which was weird enough to think about, was a startlingly sight even now.

Pietro had kept up with the life of Cooper since he was about nine and living consistently in Iowa. He had visited more than a few times between then and now, even a couple times on his own or with his new little sister, aged six nowadays.

Cooper had gotten his father’s height, but he had yet to slow in getting taller. He came in around Pietro’s height and, admittedly, the man was not looking forward to having to even look up slightly to look Cooper in the eye.

Cooper’s hair had only grown lighter in color over the years, making him look even more like his father despite his eyes being darker than his father’s blue. His hair was something like a mess: unusually fluffy, wavy, and seemingly untouched.

He smiled at Pietro, absentmindedly tugging his rolled up sleeves down. The kid was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt, something that Pietro had really only seen in television shows.

“Hey, Pietro.” Cooper greeted, “Dad was just sayin’ he was pretty sure you were gonna come ‘round today.”

Pietro grinned, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, “Then he knows me well.” He replied, walking inside of the apartment when Cooper stepped aside.

Pietro took in the sight in front of him: Laura and Garrett were sat on the couch, Lila asleep on their laps. Clint was standing, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, and James was slouched down in an armchair.

Cooper shut the door behind him and made his way over to the group, laying down on the ground in front of James.

Clint looked to Pietro, grinning, “Hey, kid.” He greeted, “We were just planning on how to quietly off you.”

Pietro rolled his eyes, coming forward to be closer to the group, “Good to know your humor hasn’t faded with old age.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Someday you’ll be eighty and I’ll be there to remind you of how fuckin’ old you are every damn second.”

“Clint!” James and Laura hissed simultaneously, both pointing to the sleeping Lila.

Clint visibly deflated and he groaned, “She’s asleep though!” He defended.

James raised a brow, “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t just look asleep.” He shot back, although a grin was threatening to form on his lips.

Clint rolled his eyes and walked over, settling himself on the arm of the chair, James’ hand coming to rest on Clint’s thigh.

Pietro walked to the small table Clint had pushed aside and excused as a dining room and dragged one of the chairs over, sitting down and re-entering the conversation.

Lucky trotted in from the bedroom, yawning as he entered. He sat down on Pietro’s feet, leaning heavily against his legs.

“How was Cassie, Coop? I didn’t have a chance to catch up with her last night.” Pietro questioned, aiming for casual but possibly not succeeding.

Cooper sat up, hair threatening to fall in his eyes, “I tell you every time we see each other: Cass and I aren’t dating and aren’t gonna.” He fell back onto the ground.

Pietro shrugged and leaned back into his seat, “You’d be cute together in my opinion.” He continued, “And dating would be good practice for your future love.” He pushed, tone leaning towards teasing.

Cooper rolled his eyes, “Maybe work on proposing to Pete before wiggling your way into my love life.”

“Cooper,” Clint hissed, casting a concerned look at Pietro.

Pietro handled it well enough, “We’ll get married when we get married, Coop, and when we do,” He glanced at Clint and James, “It will be an actual wedding.”

Admittedly, Clint and Wanda had been the only people that Pietro told of his concerns about marriage. Peter was the man he wanted to marry, always and forever, but both himself and Peter had always been scared. Their lives were perfect with each other in the moment as just boyfriends, and soulmates, and maybe a part of them worried that marriage would… disrupt them in a way. But, mostly, the idea of a permanent commitment like that with their careers was what put the idea on hold.

But one day, they knew, it would happen.

Clint rolled his eyes, seemingly relieved by Pietro’s dismissal, “Neither James or I wanted a big huge wedding, Maximoff,” He answered breezily, “Too many people, too much money.”

“You’re practically rich, Clinton.” Laura countered, “And it would’ve been nice to watch you get married in a suit and everything.”

Clint shrugged, “I, for one, am not practically rich.” He nudged James, “That’s my husband. I am only practically rich by marital relations.”  

James snorted, wrapping his arm around Clint’s waist and tugging just enough to get Clint to fall back onto his lap, “You love me for everything but my money at least.” He commented

Clint bit his lip, looking up at James, “The money is a nice addition though.” He joked before grinning and tangling one of his hands with James’.

Pietro watched the two with amusement, hand drifting down to pet Lucky on the head.

“Laura and I are going to have a wedding at least.” Garrett supplied.

“Someday,” Laura added on, “When life isn’t this crazy.”

“Just don’t be like Wanda and call me in the middle of the night to inform us that she and Natasha were getting married in just a few days.” James commented, “Clint and I had to rush down to California immediately to offer help with anything they needed, like watching the twins.”

“Wanda gave me a week and a half notice.” Pietro added smugly.

Clint snorted, “So far, their wedding and the twins are the most spontaneous parts of their life together, so we can only hope that they won’t call us up one day and tell us that they’re moving to Alaska or something. My old heart can only deal with so much surprising news.”

“Well, we’ll hear about any big news in a few days I assume.” Pietro commented.

“It was nice of her to invite all of us, by the way,” Laura said to Pietro, fondly, “I know you’ve always been a little closer to us than she has, especially because of… Sokovia. And her thinking to invite us to her small little gathering was very kind.”

Pietro smiled at her, “Wanda thinks of you all as family as much as I do, Laura.” He replied, “And she wants to spend her birthday dinner with her family.”

From there, with a soft smile on Laura’s face, the conversation shifted to much lighter topics such as Cooper’s theatre endeavors and the cat Lila befriended in Pietro and Peter’s apartment building.

“ Pietro ” that voice called again.

Pietro flinched, immediately looking to Clint and James, who were both in conversation with Cooper about the play he was casted in. Neither seemed to have said anything to Pietro, especially not his name.

Pietro kept his eyes up, feeling a slight tingling at the base of his neck.

“ Pietro ” came the voice again, this time much louder.

“Got any clean cups, Old Man?” Pietro suddenly asked, feeling the need to do something . He had gotten good at keeping his high energy into something of more middle energy, but whatever was going on in his head was bringing it all up to the surface.

Clint took a second to look at Pietro before he nodded, “James just did the dishes.”

Pietro quickly stood, mumbling an apology to Lucky after making him move and moved the few feet to the sink. He got himself a glass of water and drank as much as he could in one take, setting the cup down slowly and quietly in the sink. Sometimes doing something would calm him down, but now, he only felt slightly better.

He forced himself to sit down though and flashed a smile at Clint’s concerned look.

The tingling didn’t go away.

⊗  

“Mama?”

A woman, young with dark hair pulled back into a bun out of her face, turned around. She smiled, although the action looked strained. She dropped the towel she used to dry her hands onto the counter and bent down to be eye-to-eye with her son.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She asked, the familiar language falling from her lips easily.

Pietro had been taught multiple languages by his mother: his country’s original language, his mother’s first language: Polish, and working on English. It was the same for Wanda, but she had always favored sitting and catching up on the news with their father rather than learning new languages by their mother.

Her question echoed in Pietro’s mind, but he found he couldn’t reply.

Suddenly, his world shifted and Pietro was watching himself, only a young child, and his mother.

“Mama?” Kid Pietro repeated.

“Yes?” His mother replied.

“I had a bad dream.”

His mother furrowed her brows, “Well, that is no good, Pietro,” She brushed a few stray hairs behind her ear. She opened her arms and hugged her son when he wrapped his own arms around her, “Would you want to speak about it?”

Kid Pietro shook his head and held his mother tightly.

His mother just nodded and shifted to sit on the kitchen floor with her son.

Pietro would never tell her that he dreamt of her dying and being alone.

The scene shifted again, now just his mother. Pietro, just a little bit older listened in on his mother’s conversation with his father. But from the way he peeked around the corner of the wall, he could only see his mother.

“Django,” His mother pleaded, “They can not ever know; the world is too dangerous for them to know!”

“Then why am I only knowing now?” He countered, voice low.

He only caught only the end of the conversation before his mother caught his eye.

The scene shifted and Pietro was sitting on his bed, his mother’s hand running through his hair. She sang a nursery rhyme to him quietly.

Then he saw his mother’s death.

He recalled the last words he said to her, the last look they shared.

His own name began ringing through his head, yet the voice wasn’t his mother’s nor his father’s.

“Pietro.”

Pietro gasped, a curse in Polish slipping past his lips as he sat up in bed. In the commotion, Frankie startled awake with a yelp and Peter slipped from Pietro’s grasp.

Pietro was breathing heavily, his own name still quietly echoing through his head.

“Pietro?” Peter asked, voice rough from sleep, “Pietro, are you okay?”

Pietro could feel tears starting to build in his eyes, the sight of his parents’ death stuck on his mind. He shook his head, letting Peter wrap his arms around him and hold him close. His hand found its place on the back of Pietro’s head, mumbling comforting words to his boyfriend.

⊗

A knock on the door pulled Pietro away from Peter, “Must we answer it?” He mumbled down to Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes and gently pushed Pietro off of him, “They’re our friends , Pietro.”

Pietro begrudgingly lifted himself off of Peter and got up and off the couch, grabbing his shirt from the ground and tugging it back on, “They interrupt right when it was about to get interesting.”

Peter stood, running a hand through his hair and picking up and pulling his own shirt on. He buttoned up his pants, “Everything we do is interesting,” He corrected, “And I wouldn’t have let that go past making out because I actually remembered that our friends were stopping by.”

Pietro ran a hand through his hair, not caring much if he looked a little rough. He sat down on the arm of the couch, “Liar,” He mumbled, catching Peter by the belt loop when he walked by.

Peter chuckled and faced Pietro, pressing a kiss on his cheek, “Make sure you’re a little less excited when our friends come in.” He mumbled.

“A little impossible when I live with you .” Pietro countered, earning another roll of Peter’s eyes.

He released Peter nonetheless, looking away from the man and letting out a long breath (and thinking about stuff that wasn’t Peter).

Peter unlocked the door, greeting his friends and stepping aside to let them in, “Thanks for bringing pizza, Har, you didn’t have to do that.”

Harry used his free hand to lightly pat Peter on the back, “Least I can do.” He said, the meaning behind the words obvious, but a sad reminder.

“You don’t need to thank me for that anymore, Har, I—”

Harry waved his hand dismissively, “You're too good for your own good, Petey.”

“I agree.” MJ commented, walking past Peter and dropping down onto the couch next to Pietro, “And nice look you’ve got going on, boys.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced away, mumbling something under his breath.

Pietro grinned, “One of my favorite looks.”

Ned groaned, and sat next to MJ, “Didn’t need to know, Maximoff.”

Harry placed the pizza down on the coffee table, taking a seat in the nearby armchair, “Then you better get talking about Betty and you because MJ and I need to fulfill our disastrous dating lives.”

“At least I’ve gotten some since high school, Osborn.” MJ countered.

Harry shifted so his legs hung off one arm of the chair, “Kinda hard to find someone to fuck when you’re both dying and half insane, Michelle.” He said, almost too casually.

MJ seemed caught off guard by the comment, her exterior crumbling slightly, “Shit, Har,—”

“Its fine , MJ,” Harry cut her off with a dismissive roll of his eyes,  “If I can joke about it, then maybe it means I’m dealing a little better than you thought.” His continued, tone somewhat closed off.

A moment of silence passed.

“So Betty and I were thinking of having a fall wedding. But like, just at the beginning so it isn’t freezing yet.” Ned blurted.

Peter sat down on the coffee table, next to the pizza, “Now this is interesting stuff, I thought you hated cold weather.”

“I do, but I love Betty and that’s also why we agreed on a somewhat cold somewhat warm date.” Ned continued, “And it’ll be in New York, obviously, and we don’t want the wedding to be too big. Which is somewhat difficult because Betty’s friends expand way past my four friends, who are all in this room.”

Peter picked up a piece of pizza and handed another piece off to Ned, “Tony said he wants an invite actually.”

Ned nearly choked on his pizza, “He said that!?”

Peter nodded, “Along with the rest of the Avengers.” He said, aiming for casual but his growing smile betraying him, “And of course Wanda will want to fly in with the twins since she was the one to convince you to ask Betty out.”

“That’s so cool…” Ned trailed off, eyes wide.

Peter smiled at his friend, letting the man go off into his thoughts about his Avenger-invaded wedding.

“MJ? How did that interview thing go?” Peter questioned.

“You mean my very important, very big story done alongside Eddie Brock for his first appearance in New York in years where we wrote a story about Helen Cho and her biggest advancements as a geneticist?” She countered, “The story I nearly cried about getting?”

Peter paused before he nodded, motioning with his pizza, “Yeah, that one!”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless, “Went great; she’s incredible and Eddie Brock seemed somewhat insane but very cool.”

“Somewhat insane?” Harry echoed, a grin growing on his features, “Send him my way; maybe we’ll get somewhere.” He joked.

“By somewhat insane I mean I caught him in a conversation with himself more than a few times and he once mumbled something about not being allowed to eat somebody.” She explained, “Weird guy, but overall very cool.”

Harry hummed in agreement and nodded, “All I’m hearing is ‘overall very cool’.” He replied, taking a bite of his pizza.

MJ raised a brow, but didn’t comment any further, instead switching her attention to Pietro, “If you ever need to be interviewed, hit me up, Speedy.” She commented, “Because this girl right here will take any story that will get her a promotion.” She continued, tone cool and overall monotone.

Pietro nodded, “Noted.” He replied, gesturing with his slice of pizza.

Peter snorted, shaking his head to himself before he cleared his throat and let out a short whistle. Frankie came running from the bedroom, sliding to a stop at Ned’s feet. Peter smiled down at the dog, breaking off part of his crust and handing it off to the pet. With its snack in mouth, Frankie hopped up onto Ned’s lap, swallowing down the small piece of crust.

“You and Betty ever going to go through with getting a pet? It’d be good practice for kids.” Pietro commented, eyeing the scene before him.

“Says the guy who owns a dog with his boyfriend.” Ned muttered, scratching Frankie under the chin, “We were thinking of adopting a cat since Betty hasn’t had a very good experience with dogs quite yet.”

“She likes Frankie though.” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, she does, but apparently only because Frankie looks at Pete and Pietro here as if they hung the moon.” Ned shrugged, “Dunno man, but if she’d rather have a cat, then we’ll get a cat.” He continued, “I wouldn’t want her to dislike our pet and only be unhappy.”

Peter grinned at his best friend, letting out a quiet “aw” under his breath.

After another few minutes of wedding talk, Harry let out a long groan, gaining the attention of his friends. When he didn’t give an explanation for the noise, with Pietro’s asking of Harry, the man shrugged, “Wanted attention.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Really, Har?”

Harry hummed and nodded, taking a bite from his pizza.

A moment of silence passed before Ned spoke, “Well, spotlights on you, man. You wanted attention so you’ve gotta pay up.”

Harry nodded, biting his lip in thought, “Well, I played piano for the first time in five years yesterday.” He commented, “And I bought a new painting.”

“Of which you stuck away in your dad’s old office?” MJ filled in.

“Correct there, Jones.” He answered, “Everytime I see some piece of shit, expensive painting, I buy it just to spite the old bastard.” He took another bite of his slice of pizza, waiting a moment before continuing, “I inherited his fortune when he died and you can bet your ass I’ll use it in any way that will spite him. If I die broke, rather than living off only my father’s money, I’ll be dying happy.”

“Spotlight successfully used.” Ned commented with an impressed nod.

“You can bet your ass it was.” Harry gave a short laugh, letting his head back off the arm of the chair.

Pietro chuckled, “What else have you bought with your father’s money, Osborn?”

Harry seemed to think it over, “Paid a lot of strippers and just had ‘em sit in my father’s office once when I was drunk. I also donated a good chunk to charity, which my father would have hated . Gifted a whole alpaca to his old assistant, too.”

“And you’ve still got your own personal funds?” Pietro was amused by Harry’s stories, and, despite the huge waste of money the spending was, Pietro pushed himself to understand Harry’s state of mind here. Anything that had anything to do with his dad, that he couldn’t manipulate and make his own, was something like poison. The closest he lets himself get to his father’s past is Oscorp, and even then he seemed to let the business run itself.

Harry nodded, “I had the equivalent of about three quarters of my dad’s wealth before I even inherited his fortune. Contrary to popular belief, I was a saver rather than a spender when I wasn’t celebrating something or someone.”

Pietro nodded, briefly thinking back to the times he had seen Harry drop a lot of money on purchases. Thinking back on it, he realized that most of the purchases weren’t entirely for himself, instead for things like gifts, group dinners, or celebrations.

With Pietro lost in thought, the sound of his name being called only pulled him from his thoughts.

“ Pietro ”

Pietro immediately looked to the men in the room, but found the three listening to MJ as she recalled why her coworker had been fired halfway through a workday.

“Peter?” Pietro asked quietly.

His boyfriend looked to Pietro, questioning, “Yeah?”

“You call my name?”

Peter shook his head, brows furrowing slightly, “Nope.” He answered easily.

Pietro nodded slowly before he stood, tossing his half eaten pizza slice back into the box, having abruptly lost his appetite. He took a seat on the coffee table next to Peter, wrapping an arm around the man’s waist and pressing a quick kiss to his mess of dark hair.

Who was calling for him?

⊗

“ Pietro ”

Pietro startled awake for the second time that week, his own name echoing through his head once more.

Pietro didn’t look around the room, nor did he wake or push Peter away from him. If anything, he pulled Peter closer.

This wasn’t normal, right?

One doesn’t just hear their name like this.

Pietro entertained the idea of calling Wanda up to search for any reasonings behind the voice calling his name briefly, but decided against it when he recalled what time it would be for his sister. He wouldn’t want to risk waking the twins either.

Maybe he was finally losing his mind. Could that be it?

Pietro trailed a hand up to Peter’s neck, tracing the familiar line of words that named them soulmates on the back of his boyfriend’s neck lightly. Peter twitched with the motion, but only pressed his face into Pietro’s chest.

Voices mean something, right?

Maybe… Maybe this was some sort of witch stuff that Wanda experienced.

She had mentioned before that sometimes she could get into people’s minds almost too easily and risked leaving a trace, such as accidentally giving the person a flash of a memory they couldn’t recall.

Maybe there was some telepath around that was trying to fuck around with Pietro’s mind, or someone’s.

From the moment the thought crossed his mind, Pietro shut his eyes and went through what his sister once taught him. There were things he could do, things he could focus on, that could push a telepath out of one’s mind, or at least attempt to.

So he did just that, although unaware if a telepath was even present in his mind anymore.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and shifted so he was facing Peter. He pressed a light kiss to the man’s forehead, smiling to himself when Peter pressed his head into Pietro’s shoulder.

Tomorrow, he only had to focus on packing for California and boarding the godawful redeye Peter had booked. Apparently running from Queens to California was just a little too much for Peter.

Pietro sighed contently, happy with the distraction of reminding himself of what needed to be packed.

Only a mere couple of hours later, Pietro startled awake once more with a call of his name. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt nauseous when he saw the sight of his parents burned behind his eyelids.

⊗

“You sure we can’t just run?” Pietro questioned Peter as they left the Avengers compound, having dropped Frankie off to stay with Steve and Tony, who were also watching Lucky and the rest of New York. Although they wanted to attend Wanda’s celebration in California, the two decided that at least some of the Avengers needed to stick around to keep their part of the world safe. Sam and Scott had stuck around too, although Scott stuck around because he was meant to spend the day with his daughter.

“If you run us there, you’ll have to take way more than one trip and, even though you hate to admit it, you’ll be exhausted after that and will hate yourself if you even nap for two hours during your stay with Wanda.” Peter replied, opening the door to the backseat of Happy’s car for Pietro.

Peter got into the car after Pietro, letting Happy in the driver’s seat know they were ready to head off.

“But it would be a lot more enjoyable of an experience!”

Peter rolled his eyes and buckled his seatbelt, nudging Pietro until he did the same, “That may be so, but you should trust me on this one, babe.”

Pietro sighed, rather dramatically, and tossed an arm around Peter’s shoulders, “Fine, I’ll listen to you, Petey,” He replied, “But just this once.” He joked.

Peter leaned into his side after pinching his arm in response.

From there, Pietro felt like time moved on even more sluggishly than usual. Everything took so long, from getting to the airport to getting to their gate.

By the time they boarded their flight, Peter had pulled up his hood (of Pietro’s hoodie) and was relying on Pietro to guide his sleepy ass to his seat. Pietro, on the other hand, was a ball of useless energy. After Peter was settled in his seat on the plane and their carry ons were safely stored, Pietro made the hasty decision to run a lap or two around the airport to work off some energy, coming back to his seat fairly quickly.

Feeling slightly more at ease, Pietro settled in for the long flight ahead of him.

⊗

“Did you sleep at all during the flight?” Peter asked Pietro as they waited for their luggage to come around.

Pietro shrugged, focusing on the way Peter leaned against him heavily. Truthfully, Pietro hadn’t slept at all besides a few minutes before he was awoken by the whisper of his name.

After that, he didn’t really want to risk cursing something in Polish or screaming when he inevitably woke up from the same case or a now recurring nightmare of his parents.

“Which means that when we get to Wanda and Natasha’s, you’re going straight for a nap, Pietro.”

Pietro shrugged again, tilting his head so it rest upon Peter’s.

⊗

Los Angeles, or really all of California, was still fairly unfamiliar to Pietro, despite visiting his sister constantly. For Peter it was even more so, as he didn’t have the luxury of being able to get to a destination within minutes on his own.

Peter also was the one with two jobs, kept by choice despite Pietro’s offer of actually taking up Tony and SHIELD’s full offer of payment for being an Avenger. In the moment, Pietro was paid handsomely, with equal payment with Scott, who wasn’t on constant call for Avengers business. Wanda, after having her twins, had made the decision to request a stable pay to support her new family well, as Natasha had stepped down as a main Avenger and with that did not receive as high of a pay as she once did, and had taken Tony and SHIELD’s new offer easily. Pietro, on the other hand, was still iffy on asking for so much as payment. He was doing something he enjoyed and requesting a high pay in the moment seemed… dishonest?

But this was a visit to his sister; money wasn’t a concern either way, not truly.

Wanda loved New York, she always had, but after she and Natasha had gained their grounding again after the twins’ birth, she and Natasha had entertained the idea of raising their children in a new place.

They had gone through with the idea quickly after they took in the difference in amounts of attacks made by both villains and assholes. So, California for at least the next few years, seemed like a safer option for two little boys.

Pietro wasn’t upset with either of them for the decision, but it took a long time to get used to not looking to his side and finding his sister.

Maybe distance did them well though. Distance had allowed her to blossom as a mother and only grow up even more. She had the twins young, hardly twenty, but Wanda and Natasha took it all in their stride and had become wonderful parents.

The story of the twins’ birth were all still a little… blurry to most people, even to Wanda herself. Perhaps Natasha was the only one who had ventured further on any ideas.

So then came another pair of twins in the Maximoff lineage.

Which meant Pietro got the job of Cool Uncle.

But maybe Wanda moving away pushed Pietro to get over himself and take the next step in his own personal relationships. He got closer to Peter’s friends and really felt that they were also his own friends and, more importantly, he and Peter finally moved in together into a new and cozy apartment in Queens.

So, Los Angeles.

That’s about all Pietro had to say about it. It was a nice looking place but he barely knew anything about the city. Wanda seemed to enjoy it enough though.

Peter ran a hand through his hair before he and Pietro walked up to the front door of the Maximoff-Romanoff residence.

The house itself was exactly what Wanda had always dreamed about: small, but nowhere near the same small size as their childhood home, one-story, cozy, and oozing with life. There was a plastic scooter laying in the short lawn and an abandoned soccer ball was resting on the porch. In the driveway sat Natasha’s preferred car from the compound, shining and lacking any visible damage.

Pietro and Peter walked up to the front door, dragging their luggage behind them. Next to the front door, a large, rust-colored rock held two pairs of small paint handprints with a name printed under each: Tommy Maximoff-Romanoff and Billy Maximoff-Romanoff, a new addition to their decor, Pietro noticed.

Pietro reached forwards and rang the doorbell, immediately catching the faint sounds of a little boy’s squeal, his sister’s familiar laugh, and the voice of Natasha.

After a few seconds, the door opened, only slightly at first, before opening fully. Natasha was stood in the door, hand moving away from her back (Pietro could guess well enough that she was hiding a little thing called a gun just in case if their guests weren’t ones they were expecting).

Natasha smiled at the men, cheeks slightly flushed from what Pietro could only assume was chasing down a couple toddlers. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the length of her hair obvious enough with the way it still drift way past her shoulders even when up.

She was dressed in what can only be explained as casual and child-safe clothing: a visibly worn t-shirt, of which advertised Stark Industries, and a pair of loose sweatpants that Pietro guessed were once Clint’s.

“Hey, boys,” she greeted, sticking a hand into her pocket.

Peter smiled back and held out his arms for a hug, “I know it's only been a few days since I last saw you, but hi.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but pulled Peter forward by his hoodie and wrapped her arms around him, “Good to see you again, маленький паук.”

The sight of Natasha and Peter made Pietro smile. Motherhood looked good on the redhead. When Pietro first met her, she was all rough edges and muscles that could kill. Over time, she had grown softer. She smiled more often after Wanda and grew more comfortable with showing her “human” side to others besides Clint. And, admittedly, she had become more lean rather than muscled with motherhood, but Pietro wondered if she even had time to keep up with such an intense training schedule she once had.

Either way, she could still kick Pietro’s ass.

“Hello, sister-in-law.” Pietro greeted, waving slightly.

Natasha pulled away from Peter and was quick to pull Pietro in for a hug instead, smile still stuck on her face. “It’s good to see you too, brat.”

Pietro chuckled and hugged the redhead back, pulling away a short time later.

Natasha tucked some loose hair behind her ear after she leaned away, “Wanda is trying to get the twins dressed; they decided today was a great day to have a food fight during breakfast.” She explained, answering the men’s unsaid question.

Peter chuckled, “Sounds like them.”

Natasha grinned and rolled her eyes, “Just yesterday they were on their absolute best behavior,” her eyes shifted to Pietro, grin turning mischievous, “Sounds like a certain pair of twins we all know, huh?”

Pietro played dumb, humming in acknowledgement, “No clue who you’re talking about, Nat.”

Natasha smiled at the response before she stepped inside the house, waving for the two men to follow her, “You can put your luggage in the guest room like always and make yourself comfortable while Wanda and I get the twins ready.” She supplied, already starting down the hall to where Pietro knew the twins’ bedroom was.

Peter and Pietro waited a moment before following after her, stopping at the beginning of the hall and opening the door to the guest room.

Pietro shut the door behind them, watching Peter as he effortlessly tugged his suitcase up and dropped it on the bed, “Should I dress up to see your nephews?” Peter asked, twisting around to look at Pietro.

Pietro shook his head, “The only thing that would come from that is ruining your good clothes. Besides, the boys have already met you plenty of times; no need to look nice for them.”

Peter grinned and turned to face Pietro entirely as the other man came forward and placed his own luggage on the bed.

Pietro was quick to turn towards Peter again, tugging the man forwards by the string of his hoodie, “And,” He started, pressing a kiss to Peter’s lips, “I like seeing you in my clothes.”

“And that, we’ve already established years ago.” Peter supplied.

“So, I’ll take that as we should be heading out to the living room?”

“Look at you, guessin’ all the right answers, Maximoff.” Peter joked, taking Pietro’s hand and leading him out to the living room.

The other members of the family had yet to emerge from the boy’s room, so Pietro took a quick glance around, wondering if anything had changed since he was last here.

The house seemed all the same: open floor plan, dark wood floors and white walls, but the furniture serving as the pops of color. Wanda’s witch-y self seemed to peek through, within all the decor of the walls, such as the small, pinned up, colorful tapestry. The furniture itself seemed like a mix of Wanda and Natasha, with the modern design originating from the redhead, but the colorful designs and various plants were obviously from Wanda.

Natasha was a woman of necessity and basic designs, while Wanda yearned for an environment of color and the looks of things she could never get before.

Pietro recalled the time Peter pointed out the way the furniture was angled: all so that no one’s back faced an open window and nobody was left vulnerable.

Pietro ran a hand through his hair and chose instead to watch as Peter bent down to inspect one of the potted plants, mumbling something about Harry and Wade’s own plants.

Peter straightened up, pushing his hair out of his face, “Did Harry tell you that he got that big ass plant? He said it was because he couldn't commit himself to a person or pet like MJ suggested.”

Before Pietro could respond, he heard his sister laugh from the other room before a door opened and the sound of little feet hitting wood floor echoed down the hall. A mixed yelled of ‘Uncle Pietro’ and ‘Uncle Peter’ mingled in the air as the men in the living room turned to face the new occupants of the room.

A smile broke out on Pietro’s face as he crouched down, arms open for a hug. Almost immediately, two little kids ran out from the hallway, each showing their own way towards a desired uncle.

It was Tommy that ran towards Pietro, dark, wavy hair nearly falling in his eyes, while said green eyes were bright with excitement. Pietro’s smile only grew at Tommy’s outfit: a pair of denim overalls strapped over a white t-shirt (if Pietro remembered correctly, Natasha and Tommy had once worn the same outfit at the same time only a few months ago together, much to Wanda’s excitement).

“Tommy!” Pietro exclaimed.

“Uncle!” Tommy yelled right back, the word not moving out as well as Tommy must’ve hoped. It didn’t matter though, as Tommy threw himself into Pietro’s arms either way.

As Tommy’s arms wrapped around Pietro’s waist, Pietro stood up, scooping the child up.

Pietro hugged Tommy back tightly, “There’s the little speed demon!” Pietro continued, recalling the high energy of the child.

“Mommy said you were comin’ today, but Billy said you wouldn’ be here until later.” Tommy rushed out, gladly letting Pietro shift him onto his hip, arms coming up to loosely wrap around Pietro’s neck.

“Well, then looks like you proved your brother wrong, huh?”

Tommy giggled and nodded, looking directly to Peter when Pietro turned them towards the other man. Peter was in a similar situation, except he had lifted Billy into the air, having what seemed like three conversations with Billy all at once.

As if sensing their stares, Peter turned around, bringing Billy down into his arms. Immediately, Billy and Tommy wriggled around in their uncles’ arms, only stopping when they were placed on the ground. The two switched uncles swiftly, Billy stopping in front of Pietro with his arms raised in the air. Tommy, on the other hand wrapped himself around Peter’s legs, already starting a conversation about something his friend said about Spider-Man (“But I didn’t say a word about you, swear it!” He added on).

Pietro smiled happily as he lifted Billy into his arms.

It wasn’t until recently that Peter accidentally let his other identity slip, only because he was in the middle of the park in New York with the rest of the Maximoffs and was the one who had to pull the twins to safety and quickly change into his spider suit.

The twins had handled the information exceptionally well though, and swore to Peter every time they saw him that their lips were still sealed.

It was dangerous for the twins to know about their uncles’ other lives, but Natasha had said from the beginning that they wouldn't be hiding the basic details from Billy and Tommy.

Pietro shifted his attention to Billy, admiring his Black Widow t-shirt momentarily before smiling at the boy.

Billy smiled right back, “Hi!” He exclaimed. Just like his brother, his hair was close to falling into his eyes, but his brown eyes were just as wide with joy.

“Hey there, William.” Pietro replied, smiling wider at the way Billy’s face screwed up at the use of his full name.

“Having fun there, boys?” Natasha called. Pietro looked up, finding her and Wanda standing in the hallway entryway. Her arm was around Wanda’s waist and it looked that she had changed her t-shirt and sweatpants to a fitted, buttoned up tank top and a loose pair of cuffed jeans.

Wanda, on the other hand, was wearing a pale sundress that ended just after her knees and had a design coated in a floral pattern.

When she looked to her brother, her smile grew and she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, the color visibly lighted from the sun. What was surprising though was the new cut, the wavy hair ending a few inches below her jaw.

“Ah, new hair I see, sister?” Pietro commented.

Wanda nodded with a slight smile, “Do you like it?” She questioned, “Almost like your hair, no?” She teased.

Pietro snorted, starting towards his sister, “My hair is much nicer, Wanda,” He replied, “But I suppose your hair looks very nice.” With his freehand, he reached forward and flicked the end of her hair on one side, satisfied when his sister raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, “It looks very nice short, if you wanted to know.”

Quickly, Wanda’s attention shifted and she started towards Peter, “Spidey-boy!” She greeted, “How was the flight, Pete?”

Pietro furrowed his brows, “Why not ask me?”

“Because,” Natasha cut in, pushing herself off of the wall and starting towards her family, “All you’ll talk about it how slow the flight was,” She lowered her voice to imitate Pietro, “‘I swear, they were flying at only two miles per hour! And don’t get me started on how long it took to get our luggage!’”

“It was alright,” Peter cut in, obviously trying to cut off any rant Pietro may start on, “I slept for most of it, but the end got a little bit rough because my senses were a little overwhelmed by the engine and this baby that kept crying.” He answered honestly.

“Well, at least it wasn’t absolute torture, hm?” Wanda replied, reaching up and ruffling Peter’s hair, “Thank you for making sure my brother got here in one piece, Peter.”

“It was no problem, Wanda.” Peter replied with a grin, shifting Tommy in his arms so the boy could lean his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“So, Pietro, Peter, Tommy and Billy really wanted to show you something…” Natasha trailed off, looking in between her sons.

With the look, each of the boys requested to be set down before each hurried off past Natasha to their bedroom.

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, “The Barton-Barnes-Clark clan should be coming in later this afternoon. Unlike you two, they weren’t really up to staying up late and waking up early for their flight.”

“Understandable.” Pietro commented, straightening his clothes out absentmindedly.

Just then, the boys returned, each holding something in their little hands.

They skidded to a stop in front of their uncles, Pietro already drifting towards Peter.

The boys held up their items, which earned a laugh from Pietro and a large smile from Peter.

“Me and Mama found them at the store yesterday,” Billy explained. He glanced back at Natasha, “There was one of Mama too but we already have one of her.”

In Tommy’s hand, he held a stuffed Spider-Man toy while Billy held a stuffed Quicksilver toy. Pietro recalled Tony mentioning a long-awaited release of Quicksilver paraphernalia and a new line of Spider-Man paraphernalia. Tony had managed to get Pietro and Peter some sort of profit from the sales, but neither pushed too hard to get some great sum of money.

“What about Mommy?” Natasha supplied.

Tommy nodded, “We have one of Mommy too, but we got that awhile ago.”

Pietro hummed in acknowledgement, sitting down on the ground in front of the twins, Peter following suit soon after.

“I haven’t even see this little guy yet,” Peter commented, opening his arms for Tommy and taking the plushie from Tommy when offered. He eyed the toy for a few moments before he handed it back and let Tommy go on his toddler tangent about the Avenger merchandise.

Billy was much more calm about the situation, sitting in Pietro’s lap without an offer or request and holding the plushie up to Pietro. He didn’t quite let his uncle take it, but Pietro, unlike Peter, took a look at the paraphernalia being released before it's actually release, so he didn’t need to analyze the merchandise all that much.

Out of the corner of his eye, Pietro saw Wanda smile at Natasha, pulling her in for a quick kiss before they walked over and sat near the two men. Wanda chose to sit near Peter, leaning into his side.

Natasha sat down next to Pietro, not leaning into his side like her wife would, but instead angling her body towards her brother-in-law. Pietro knew that was the best she could do most days.

Eventually, the conversation shifted from toys to school and the group moved to the actual living room, specifically with Pietro, Wanda, and Tommy taking up the couch while Natasha sat in one of the armchairs with Billy sat in her lap and Peter at her feet. Pietro had always admired the familial relationship that occurred between Natasha and Peter.

Peter himself wasn’t sure how they grew so close, but he always jokingly put it down to being “spider family”.

Billy shifted in Natasha’s arms at one point, turning to face his mother and asking her a somewhat quiet question in a familiar language to Pietro: Polish.

The use of the language peaked Pietro’s interest, so when there was a lull in conversation he chose to bring it up, “How many languages are you two trying to teach the boys?”

“Lots,” Wanda answered with a chuckle.

“They only know bits and pieces of some languages right now. Right, boys?” Natasha asked her sons.

The two nodded, Tommy angling his head to look up at Pietro, “Mama started teaching us German but Mommy is teaching us French. Me and Billy know Polish and Russian too.”

Pietro grinned, glancing at the two. To Pietro and Wanda, their mother’s first language had always been important to them, but they hadn’t made an effort to speak it as much as they spoke English since coming to the Avengers.

Their mother knew many languages, as did their father, and, just as Wanda and Natasha were doing, they made sure their children knew at least the basics of each language.

Natasha had shown her knowledge of many languages, likely speaking more than she could count on two hands, but Wanda, at least before she met Natasha, knew as many languages as Pietro.

Thinking about it, Pietro knew a few : English, Sokovian, Serbian, Polish, most parts of Russian thanks to Hydra, and some phrases in German.

Wanda, from what Pietro knew, was able to speak all the same as Pietro, but knew much more Russian and had also taken to French after Steve had spoken it in front of her years ago. Pietro wouldn’t be surprised if she spoke as many languages as Natasha nowadays though.

“How many are you aiming for?” Peter questioned.

“As many as we can.” Natasha replied simply.

Wanda hummed in agreement, “Sokovian is next I think.” She muttered.

Billy perked up, “That’s what you and Uncle Pietro speak, right?”

Pietro nodded as Wanda hummed again. She leaned into her brother’s side, “It was the main language of where we were born.”

“Can we go there one day?” Tommy asked quietly.

A tense, brief silence settled over the room. The question, to this day, would be shocking in its own way. Half of the occupants of the room had been there on Sokovia’s last day and they had all been willing to and almost died then. Some more than others.

“No, мой мальчик.” Natasha replied gently, slight hesitancy present in her tone.

“Sokovia was…” Pietro started slowly, but furrowing his brows with the lack of words he felt were appropriate, “Sokovia is no longer around, Tommy.” He settled for saying.

Tommy seemed momentarily confused by the answer, but, possibly reading the room, he nodded.

Conversation shifted due to Peter, “So, Hanukkah?” He started, fingers fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, “Pietro and I are heading back after this week for some of our things, and Frankie, most likely, and coming back before Hanukkah while Aunt May’ll fly back with us after Hanukkah, right?”

“Yep,” Natasha assured.

Even if it was brief, the talk of Hanukkah had Tommy and Billy starting up a conversation about all of the times they experienced Hanukkah, or at least the ones they could remember.

Pietro held back a chuckle at how the religious part of his and Wanda’s lives played out. Somehow, they each had ended up with a soulmate who is, or once was, Jewish. Peter was raised Jewish and Natasha, although she had never expanded on the topic very much to Pietro, had her own time with the religion.

Pietro was sure his parents would be very proud with Wanda introducing the religion to her children, although Pietro could tell she would be in no way like their father with how much his life revolved around his religion.

As lunchtime floated around, Pietro stood to help Natasha in the kitchen. They worked side by side in preparing some food for the rest of the family, minor conversation mingling between them.

“So,” Natasha started at some point during their time in the kitchen.

“Hm?” Pietro cut in, cutting another slice of tomato for Wanda’s sandwich.

“You and Peter…” she ventured, voice quiet and near a whisper.

Pietro hummed again, knowing where the conversation was going but wanting Natasha to finish it herself.

“For Wanda and me,” She started instead, “Marriage was a difficult topic at first because of my… past, but once we went through with it, I knew it was one of the best choices I’d ever made.” She explained, “The boys were a good motivator too, since they came before the marriage, but even if we weren’t soulmates and we didn’t live in a world with that kind of thing, Wanda and I would’ve gone through with our marriage either way… if that makes sense.”

Pietro hummed in acknowledgement again.

“So Peter and you… you’re nearing ten years, yeah?” She didn’t wait for any acknowledgment and instead placed her final sandwich down on a plate and wiped her hands off on a towel, turning her body and full attention to Pietro.

Pietro finished Wanda’s sandwich and moved onto his own, “We are.” He confirmed, “Just short of it by two years.”

“You know what I’m asking here, Maximoff.”

“Yep,” Pietro agreed, glancing at Natasha.

“Come on, Pietro.”

Pietro sighed, glancing at the living room where Peter and Wanda were with the twins. He wondered if Natasha remembered that even if they whispered, there was no doubt that Peter could hear them discussing this topic. After a moment of thinking it over, he was was pretty sure that was her point.

With a sigh, he looked away from Peter and to his sister-in-law, “It’s different for us.”

“How so?”

“Peter… he has the whole secret identity thing and to him, marrying me would mean risking my life even more. For me? I almost died once and from then on, a lot of things became much more important to me. Some things that didn’t seem like a sensitive topic to me when I was fifteen became important to me by the time I was seventeen. Marriage is one of those things.” He admitted, voice quiet, crossing his arms over his chest, “I never thought I’d meet my soulmate when I was seventeen but then I met Peter and everything seemed to make much more sense with him around.

“Peter knows that he’s like this, or most times he does, but he has a tendency to get hurt emotionally easily, sometimes, or can get spooked by someone turning down a really big offer of his. I think he’s worried that if we do get married, what we have now will be gone and it will be his fault.” Pietro continued, “For me, I’d love to marry him, but I also don’t want him to worry about hurting me or losing me so much that he… leaves, I guess.”

Natasha stared at Pietro for a moment, seemingly a million emotions running through her head.

“ Pietro ”

Pietro ignored it.

“You two love each other a whole lot, Pietro, and that alone is fantastic.” Natasha started slowly, “So marriage for you two? I think it wouldn’t be anything more than a title. Some people think the title of soulmates is the same as marriage and maybe they’re right… I didn’t mean to try and pressure you to make a decision or pressure you into acting, biały Królik.”

Pietro shrugged, “It’s all good, Nat.”

She bit her lip and nodded, hesitating before she reached forwards and tugged Pietro forwards by the hem of his shirt. He got the message quickly, opening his arms and working on smothering a smile when Natasha slowly, lightly wrapped her arms around Pietro’s neck. He hugged her back easily, arms around her waist.

So, eight years ago, he wouldn’t believe that Natasha Romanoff would consider him family like this, nor would request to hug him.

Well, eight years ago he also didn’t believe he’d get to see Natasha Romanoff as a mother. But it was a nice look on her.

⊗

By late afternoon, everyone had shown up. Together.

It seemed everyone except Pietro and Peter decided to pile onto a quinjet. Even Aunt May.

Greeting everyone went as expected: lots of squealing over Tommy and Billy even though everyone had just seen them a few days ago. Aunt May was absolutely ecstatic to see the Maximoff-Romanoff house again, and she was quick to ask Natasha and Wanda about their newest plant. Pietro held back a snort at the joint interest in other people’s plants Parkers seemed to have.

The already smaller house seemed even smaller with the large amount of guests inside, but Natasha had explained to everyone that they’d be heading out in an hour to go to the restaurant that Wanda picked out.

Besides Peter and Pietro, everyone else got themselves a room at a nearby hotel (even Aunt May, who declined the guest room that Pietro and Peter were staying in after they offered to share the air mattress Natasha brought up).

Tony, on his own account, set Aunt May up with her own, nice room, much to her delight and slight annoyance as she wished to pay him back.

Besides her, the rest of the group paired off for their own rooms (unbeknownst to them, Tony had prepaid for the rooms after he had Friday inform him of who was pairing up with who). The group of people had really condensed just enough to only have Tony pay for four rooms at least. It was extremely kind of him, especially with his lack of visiting California with the group.

Wanda insisted that the crew walked to the restaurant, with Natasha claiming that traffic would be pretty bad since everyone was coming home from work at this time.

So, Clint had scooped up Lila and fell into step next to Wanda and Pietro at the front of the group after they left and locked up the house.

Natasha hung back in the end of the group with Bruce and Thor. Ahead of them was Peter and Aunt May with Laura and Garrett only a few steps ahead. Cooper was conversing with James and Vision just behind Pietro, Wanda, and Clint with Lila.

Pietro shifted his hold on Billy, making sure the child was comfortable. He held back a chuckle when he realized that the three leading the group were also the ones who were in charge of the little kids.

“So,” Clint started, “Separate birthdays.”

Wanda hummed in acknowledgement, smiling at Tommy when he flashed her his own smile.

“That’s new, isn’t it?”

Pietro nodded, “Wanda and I talked about it briefly and, after she heard about Peter’s plans, she insisted that the birthday dinner was my own.”

“Besides,” Wanda cut in, “I think everyone will love this restaurant, and you could all use a little more experience of California.”

“You talk as if you’ve lived here your entire life.” Pietro teased.

She shrugged, “My babies pretty much have, and that’s a very big detail in my life to me.”

Clint smiled at the response and briefly placed a freehand on her shoulder, “You’re honestly a fantastic mother, Wanda.”

Wanda smiled up at Clint and Pietro thought back to the conversations he and Wanda had had before about Clint Barton. Maybe he was something like a father figure to them in life. Hell, Pietro had nearly died for him, and to this day he didn’t regret it, so Clint Barton meant something to the twins.

“And you are an incredible father, Clint.” Wanda replied, tone soft.

From there, the conversations were merely mild, with Wanda teasing Clint about having kids with James, which ended with Clint joking about them being a little too unstable, but he wrapped it up with fondly talking about the time Lila had declared her official names for all the fathers in her life a couple years ago (“She told me I’m ‘Dad’, Garrett is ‘Daddy’, and James is ‘Papa’, and Jamie over there had to step out of the room to collect himself. It was adorable.”).

When they arrived at the restaurant, a simple joint that screamed casual and served both pizza and burgers (and had a kosher option that Aunt May was grateful for but reminded Wanda politely that she hadn’t ever been as strict with her food in public as her parents nor Peter’s parents had been, similar to the rest of the Maximoffs, remaining Parkers, and the Maximoff-Romanoffs).

The Maximoff-Romanoffs seemed fairly familiar with the restaurant and Pietro recalled having gone with them to the restaurant only once before. If his memory served him right, he really liked the pizza here.

Pietro helped Billy get settled in his seat before he took the free seat next to the child and next to Peter. How convenient, Pietro thought with slight grin playing on his lips.

As everyone picked a seat, taking much longer than Pietro would have thought, Pietro realized how many eyes they now had on them and the amount of noise their group brought into the restaurant. It didn’t bother him much, if anything it only made him sit up a little straighter.

So dinner passed peacefully, this time without any Avenger interruptions, and Pietro volunteered to give a toast to his sister that he was happily sober for (much to his sister’s enjoyment). If he got a little teary eyed, as did Wanda, no one seemed to mention it as Pietro expressed his pride in his sister as a mother, sister, teammate, and person overall. Before he could finish, he found himself switching into Sokovian as he expressed how grateful he was for her. Wanda hadn’t made a toast for him during his dinner, obviously because of the big interruption, but, instead, she stood after her brother’s toast, stepped away from her seat, and pulled her brother into a hug with tears in her eyes. She also whispered a short, but sentimental, note of gratitude and love for her brother to him in Sokovian.

As dinner went on, everyone seemed overall pleased and Natasha took the bill from the waiter before anyone could speak up, claiming that unlike some of the Avengers, she never really spent any of her paychecks.

By the time they walked home, the air had chilled even more and the sun had lowered from the sky entirely.

Pietro found himself holding both Peter’s hand and Tommy’s hand on the way home and for a few short seconds, Pietro imagined that as his future with Peter.

And he loved it.

By the time they reached Wanda and Natasha’s house, Billy had made his way into Peter’s arms, Tommy to James’, fast asleep.

Natasha took Billy from Peter after everyone had entered the house and she and James walked off to the boys’ room to get them ready for bed, each conversing with each other in quiet Russian.

Before Natasha could return, Laura and Garrett excused themselves with the show of Lila nearly falling out of Garrett’s arms with her tired state. Before they could finish speaking, Cooper cut in and quickly begged his mom to let him stay and let him just head home with his dad. She didn’t hesitate long before agreeing, bidding the group goodbye with a fond smile.

When Natasha and James did return, she was quick to order everyone to gather around her dining table once she noticed half of the mixed Barton clan missing.

Pietro and Wanda were pushed down into seats by Peter, who was grinning and basically vibrating with excitement.

A few moments later, the lights went out and Pietro swore he heard a couple guns get drawn before Natasha hissed something in Russian and cleared her throat. A murmur went around the room as Natasha walked in slowly, a large cake in hand. Slowly, ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung as Natasha made her way over.

After she placed the cake down, Wanda caught her hand and pressed a quick kiss to it, smiling up at her wife.

Pietro eyed the cake, finding the words, ‘Happy Birthday Wanda and Pietro!’, surrounded by ‘26’s. About ten candles were spread around the cake.

As the song came to a close, Pietro felt Wanda grab his hand and give it a squeeze.

They blew out the candles together, smiles wide on their faces while their friends (family) clapped and laughed around them.

“ Pietro ”

The voice rang through his head, louder than ever before, and Pietro held back a flinch, but saw his sister wince out of the corner of his eye.

Almost immediately, she looked to him and he found themselves staring at each other, wide eyed and both fearful and curious.

A faint echo of his sister’s voice rang through his mind, “ Talk later. ”

He nodded, barely visible, and knew that at the same time as he did, they plastered on smiles and thanked the people around them.

Cake was served, two pieces saved for Tommy and Billy for the next day, and with a quiet request for ‘inside voices’ by Natasha, the group spread about for conversation until they all regrouped in the living room. Quickly, Wanda and Pietro went through whatever gifts their friends had gifted them and thanked each person individually. The group regrouped once more and came to have conversation entirely in the living room, except Pietro and Aunt May, who took hold of her nephew’s soulmates’ arm and gently pulled him out the front door to the porch. She shut the door behind them quietly.

May tucked some of her long, brown hair behind her ear as she faced Pietro. The porch light and the residual light from the streetlights was all Pietro was given in order to see Aunt May.

“Sorry, but not really, to drag you away from the festivities.” She started, clasping her hands in front of her.

Pietro shrugged, “It’s fine.” He assured, “We still have Hanukkah to spend together and I still live in the area with the rest of those losers.” He continued with a grin.

May offered a smile back before she pushed her glasses up her nose, “I just wanted… just wanted to wish you a happy birthday on my own.” She admitted, “I know I’ve done that many, many times now, but I know myself twenty six is a big age. Some of my friends say it’s the beginning of the end for a person, but for you especially, this is only the beginning for you, Pietro.” She reached forwards and placed a hand on Pietro’s arm, squeezing his arm briefly in comfort.

“And,” She continued, “It’s somewhat of a big deal for me too. Peter and you, you guys have grown into adults together and I couldn’t be more grateful for you.” May’s smile grew, “Peter always wished to have what he said was, ‘an Uncle Ben to his Aunt May’ and when he was seventeen, he got it.”

Pietro blinked a few times, trying to will away the sudden tears that popped into his eyes.

“I know I’ve told you before, but sometimes I worry you forget it but you’ve become something like a son to me since Peter introduced you. And…” she hesitated before she reached up and wiped under her eyes, “Peter and I both agree that Ben would have absolutely loved you. Granted, we agreed on this years ago, but I have no clue if Peter’s ever told you.”

Peter had, but even now, it had those tears escaping Pietro’s eyes.

Pietro gave a weak laugh, accent growing stronger with the stream of emotion, “May, you have always been the absolute best to me, a-and it's been an honor and a dream to get to be part of your’s and Peter’s lives.” He admitted, doing his best to express gratitude in his flood of feelings.

May didn’t hesitate before pulling Pietro down into a tight hug, mumbling her gratitude and appreciation for him quietly.

When they pulled away a few minutes later, the two wiped under their eyes and each gave a small chuckle.

“Seems like a trend to hug me today,” Pietro joked.

“Just think of it as a reminder that I want great-nephews and or nieces someday.” She replied, tone joking but her words nonetheless truthful. She gave a weak smack to his chest and nodded towards the door, “Feel alright to head back in?”

Pietro nodded, allowing her to open the door and lead him back inside.

He was grateful for this woman as much as she was for him, truly.

Inside, the noise was still minimal, but the smiles on his friends' faces were enough to pull him back into the party spirit and even enough to make him somewhat forget about his and Wanda’s worrying plans to talk.

Pietro assessed the environment around him, watching as May went and took a seat next to Thor (smart move). Everyone was scattered around the room, such as Cooper making himself home across James’ and Clint’s laps while Natasha had seated herself in Wanda’s lap on an armchair.

Pietro walked over and sat down next to Peter, only to pull the other man into his lap and send a wink Natasha’s way. The redhead replied with a raise of her middle finger and a mischievous smirk.

Glancing around again, Pietro noticed that Vision had taken up residency on the floor in front of where Bruce sat in an armchair, much to his amusement.

“What’re we doing? Playing strip poker?” Pietro joked.

Peter pinched his arm with a laugh in response.

“We were actually talking about how much we hated your hair, speedy.” Clint piped up from where he sat, one arm around James and the other resting on Cooper’s propped up leg.

Listen, if Pietro ever has a family, he hopes he can be as close to his family as Clint is. The man was a source of comfort for many people, Pietro learned, especially for his only son (if you didn’t count the unsaid title Pietro held).

“So, so funny, Old Man.” Pietro said sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” Bruce cut in, “We were actually talking about if Tony has any children wandering around the world from his bachelor days.”

“In all seriousness?” Aunt May echoed.

“Indeed.” Vision filled in, “From what I can recall, Mr. Stark was very… open back then.”

Peter snorted at the word choice, only to cover his mouth in horror, “Oh no, he’s like my...” He mumbled to himself, only to trail off before he could hit the word that Pietro was positive was a variant of “father”, “Let’s change the topic, please!” He declared hastily.

Thor chuckled and tossed an arm around May’s shoulder, which earned a small squeak of joy from the woman, much to Peter’s displeasure, “How about the conversation that Bruce heard the other day? About someone named Harley?”

Bruce snapped his fingers in remembrance and sat up straighter, “Looked into it,” He started, “And he’s some kid he met a while ago.”

“And?” James questioned.

“His name is Harley Keener and he’s about… twenty seven? At least now he is. Tony met him when he was about twelve in Tennessee.” Bruce continued.

Clint furrowed his brows, “What’s the deal then?”

“The deal is that Harley Keener just moved to New York and randomly showed up at the compound without warning. And he was let in.”

Cooper perked up, “Has Stark been in contact with the kid since he met ‘im?”

Bruce shrugged, “I think only Tony and maybe Steve know the answer to that.”

“Almost sounds like some estranged son.” Natasha joked.

Clint brightened and looked to Peter, “So, sounds like Pete has some competition then.” He teased.

Peter rolled his eyes, waving the comment off, “There shouldn’t be competition between sons.” After he spoke, Peter slapped a hand over his mouth again.

May was the first to laugh, commenting about how nothing’s changed since Peter and Tony got all close.

Conversation floated around the room for awhile after that, but eventually the guests, besides the ones living or staying in the house, left to their hotel.

Peter was visibly tired at this point, leaning heavily against his boyfriend for support, and Pietro was starting to think about the conversation he was about to have with Wanda, or at least he thought they would be having it soon.

Natasha shut and locked the door behind their last leaving guests. Wanda left her side then, coming towards Pietro and leaning into his other side that Peter wasn’t occupying. The three watched as Natasha traced the rest of the house, locking windows, and then locking them all again, checking over the door, and reviewing the little nooks and crannies of the home.

Such a routine was not something Pietro and Peter practiced in their own home, but he supposed they weren’t the ones who were trained to be that cautious nor had people who may be out for them someday.

Eventually, Natasha checked the front door one last time and turned towards her guests. She gave a long sigh and reached up, pulling the hair tie from her hair and letting her hair down.

As she walked towards her wife, she attempted to run her hand through her hair in an effort to try to release some of the shape it had taken from being up.

“Feel free to use the guest bathroom to shower,” Natasha said when she reached them, “Just make sure to be quiet and also,” she leaned in towards Pietro and Peter, “No noise .” She hissed.

Pietro raised a brow, “Noise? Peter and I can be as silent as mice.”

Despite his eyes having slipped shut, Peter slapped Pietro on the arm.

Natasha grinned and leaned away though, holding a hand out for Wanda’s. Her wife took her hand gladly, “Good night, Pete, and night, brother.” Wanda flashed a tired smile at them, giving Pietro one last look. A look that’s meaning had clearly gone over Peter’s head and, maybe, Natasha’s.

“Night, guys.” Natasha bid goodbye, letting her wife lead her to their bedroom, “And shut the lights off behind you please!” Wanda added from the hallway, not so much yelling but no longer whispering.

Peter hummed in acknowledgement and sleepily pushed away from Pietro, yawning as he made his way around the room to switch off the lights.

When he was finished, he came back to Pietro and held his hand out. Pietro went to grab his hand but stopped at the last second, instead crouching and hefting Peter up and over his shoulder. In his state, all Peter did was gasp and accept his fate, “No funny business.” He mumbled into Pietro’s back.

“No funny business.” Pietro repeated, already starting towards the guest bedroom. He kept to his word though. He dropped Peter onto the bed and dragged their suitcases off the other half of the bed. He took another look at his boyfriend before he went to Peter’s suitcase and pulled out one of many nerdy t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants.

Pietro settled for tossing the clothes onto Peter’s stomach, which went well enough as Peter made a move to grab them.

Pietro changed as well, trying to go fast as he felt that Wanda may just pop in to grab Pietro rather than wait for him. Peter and Pietro went through the rest of their night routine swiftly before returning to the guest room.

Peter made himself comfortable under the covers of the bed easily, whereas when Pietro was just about to excuse himself to find Wanda, the door creaked open and his sister popped her head in.

“Pietro?” She whispered.

Peter perked up and glanced towards the door. He flopped back down and waved a hand, “Go on ahead, babe, I’ll still be here.”

Pietro gave a quiet chuckle at the response and paused to press a kiss to Peter’s head, “Love you.” He whispered.

Peter smiled up at him, “I love you, too.” He mumbled back.

Pietro stepped away and walked to the door, which was now wide open but lacking his sister.

He stepped out and shut the door behind him quietly. The door to his nephews’ room was opened and Pietro risked a look inside. He found Wanda bending down to press a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, then to Billy’s. She must’ve known her brother had been watching as, when she turned around, she smiled at him almost immediately.

Silently, the two left the room and shut the door behind them.

Wanda led Pietro out to the living room and the two sat on the couch. Wanda flicked her wrist, fingers twitching and red flickering around her hand, as the lamp nearby switched on.

She sat, facing her brother on the couch, legs pulled up towards her chest.

Rather than speaking, Wanda reached forward, the familiar red tendrils appearing and swirling around her hand that began spreading towards Pietro.

He let the inevitable happen and let his eyes slip shut as the events the past few days played through his mind.

“ Pietro…. Pietro… Pietro… Pie— ”

His own name echoed through his head recklessly, growing louder with each passing.

Before it could get too bad, it was already over, his mind falling blank and his eyes instinctually opening.

In return, images flashed in Pietro mind, quickly and clearly.

Wanda with Tommy in the kitchen and the sudden call of her name with her flinch and furrowed brows.

Wanda and Natasha having dinner and Wanda squeezing her eyes shut when the voice rang through her head.

Wanda walking the twins to school and waving them goodbye as she hid a flinch at the sound of her own name.

Wanda doing this and Wanda doing that and hearing her name just like Pietro.

“You’ve heard him too.” Wanda stated, voice quiet.

Pietro nodded, “And so have you.”

“Since our birthday.”

“Me too.”

Wanda shifted and tucked her hair behind her ear, “Do you know the voice?”

Pietro shook his head and ran a hand through his hair in attempts to get it out of his face, “Can you…” he trailed off.

Wanda shrugged, “I don’t know… I haven’t tried that kind of thing before, at least not like this. I’ve only tracked a person to a location with you and even then I had a vague idea of where you were.”

“Can you try? Maybe?” Pietro pushed, hopeful for an answer.

She nodded, “I would have anyways.” She paused, “I don’t think this is something we can make into Avengers business and right now, maybe we shouldn’t worry Natasha and Peter until we have an idea.”

Pietro nodded, “So, what do you need to find this voice’s location?”

Wanda bit her lip in thought, “Time.” She answered.

“Time?”

“I can’t do much unless I can connect myself to the piece of information we have: that voice.”

“So, we wait?”

Wanda hummed in agreement, “We wait.” She echoed.

She shifted in her seat, scooting over and leaning heavily into her brother’s side. He tilted his head, letting his own head rest on top of her’s.

He supposed he could only hope they heard the voice again before his and Peter’s flight the next afternoon.

“Have you been having nightmares too?” Pietro questioned slowly.

She nodded, “Of Dad, mostly.”

“It has been Mom for me.”

“Their death too?”

He paused. “Yes.”

⊗

At some point, Pietro had drifted off. He had not dreamt though as he was able to be awoken by a board creaking in the moment.

His awakening came when his name was screamed in his mind.

Pietro lurched up, gasping, and hands flying to his head.

Wanda was no better, letting out a choked gasp and a broken Polish curse. She maintained her movements though and instead squeezed her eyes shut.

Pietro, despite his name echoing through his head so loudly , twisted to take a look at his sister. He saw her with her eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched and red swirling around her.

She flinched and Pietro yearned to take hold of her hand or something but he felt he shouldn’t.

This was their chance for an answer.

But then Wanda let out a shaky breath and Pietro blinked and suddenly everything was… different.

They were no longer in Wanda’s home, no they were… in some sort of metal room. Facing a… metal door, with what seemed like a large ‘X’ in excuse of a design.

Before Pietro or Wanda could look around, that voice rang out, “Mind your step, please,” it, he, advised, “We’re in a very delicate position here, but feel free to turn around to face me. Just no moving, please.”

Pietro glanced at Wanda, sharing a look before they turned, slowly.

In front of them was a man sat in a wheelchair that was situated on a long, metal platform. He looked young enough, maybe nearing middle-aged, and he had a head full of brown, long hair. Dressed in a pale sweater and khakis he seemed nothing close to threatening. The helmet he wore and the metal control board it was attached to beg to differ.

Before Pietro could venture on the idea, the man spoke again, “You must be wondering who I am; where you both are.”

“Stating the obvious.” Pietro muttered.

Pietro swore he saw the man’s lip twitch upwards, holding back a grin possibly, but the man barreled on, “I am unsure if you’ve heard of me,” he started, “But my name is Charles Xavier.”

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, “And you, are named Wanda Maximoff and your twin brother there is name Pietro Maximoff.” His brows furrowed briefly, “I apologize,” he started, “Wanda Maximoff-Romanoff.” He corrected.

The correction only elicited an angry furrow of brows from his sister and Pietro curled his fists, “Where are we?”

Charles straightened in his chair, “You should feel honored, Mr. Maximoff. Not many people see this room in their lives, but to let you know, it is part of the lowest level of my residency of which doubles as a school: Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“Why tell us this if not many people can know of it?” Wanda pushed.

Charles looked between them, “I assure you, you’ll know soon enough.” He answered, quite ominously, “Before then though, I request your presence here at my school.”

“We don’t do school assemblies, that’s Rogers’ gig.” Pietro quipped back.

There was the quirk of Charles’ lips again, “I have no need to employ your services for my school, no, I request your presence here in order to have a well-deserved talk.”

“About?” Pietro countered.

“I’m afraid the information I desire to give you would be better handled in a true face-to-face conversation.”

“This isn’t?” Wanda asked.

“I would think you could answer that question yourself, Mrs. Maximoff-Romanoff.”

Her brows furrowed again, head tilting slightly. Pietro watched as red flickered to life in her eyes.

Charles grinned now and Wanda winced, shaking her head and her eyes clearing.

“You’re quite a strong telepath, aren’t you?” He muttered.

“As are you?” She mumbled, possibly to herself.

“Well, right now you are wherever you are and I am here. All you’re doing here is entering a certain realm, in simple wording, that allows us to speak to each other telepathically but in “person”, so to speak.” He struggled to explain, obviously trying to explain the situation in simplest terms. He continued on, gaze shifting to Pietro, “And you, are the fastest man alive, hm?” He asked, “Your mind is… incredible in terms of speed I’ll say.”

“Stay out of my head.” Pietro hissed back.

“Trust me, I have no desire to be in either of your heads, even though all I have done is stay on the surface; insert an… idea into your heads that triggered a response. The response I have no clue of besides sending some sort of message to both of you.” Charles answered.

“Our names were the message?” Wanda questioned.

“You heard your names?” He asked back, clearly delighted by the new information. He hummed to himself, “Quite interesting; usually people hear my actual message rather than just a word.”

Pietro felt himself growing more tense with the conversation, “But what do you want ?”

Charles seemed to enter the conversation again, leaving whatever thought he had behind. He smiled at the twins, “Come to my school so we can speak more in depth and then a lot more will make sense to you both, let’s say.”

“How can we trust you, Charles Xavier?” Wanda cut in.

“I guess an eye for an eye, hm?” He mumbled.

Suddenly, a flash of a young boy, resembling the man in front of them besides the wheelchair and maybe thirty years off, in Pietro’s mind.

The young boy was sat in a large library, assumingly in a house, reading in what looked to be pajamas. Then a little girl walked into the room, all blonde hair and pretty clothes.

Charles didn’t glance up, “Good morning, Raven.” He greeted.

The girl smiled, “Morning, Charles.” She took a seat next to him, looking over his shoulder at the book in his hands. Her brows furrowed at the text and she leaned away, “Have you eaten breakfast yet today?”

“Not quite yet; I was waiting for you, sister.”

Raven’s smile grew at that, “So, breakfast?” She pushed.

Charles waited a moment and then placed a bookmark in his book, shutting it and standing only to place the book on a nearby table gently.

He held out his hand, “Breakfast.” He agreed.

She took his hand happily, and went to lead Charles out of the room, only to be stopped.

“You know you don’t have to hide here, Raven.” Charles said gently, giving her hand a squeeze.

Raven looked back and held Charles’ gaze for a few seconds before she nodded.

Suddenly, her skin rippled and blue skin overcame the pale, delicate complexion and her blonde hair turned orange, small bunches of blue scales decorating her body to create intricate designs.

She seemed embarrassed of this form of herself, but Charles gave her an encouraging smile, “You’re safe here, with me, Raven. I hope you’ll never forget that.”

Raven smiled back at her brother and tugged on his hand, “Breakfast?”

Charles nodded, letting himself be led away from his library.

And then Pietro blinked and was back in the metal room.

Charles cleared his throat, eyes flicking away from the twins briefly, “Think of that as my personal experience with family.” He said vaguely before he nodded to himself, “Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,” He repeated, “Please, come when you can.”

And then Pietro and Wanda were “back” in Wanda’s home.

The two stayed silent momentarily before they met each other’s gaze, “Charles Xavier,” Pietro said.

Wanda nodded, “And Raven.” She added on. She bit her lip, “Maybe… Maybe he was trying to show us that he understands us, even slightly.” She thought aloud.

“Wanda,” Pietro started, straightening up and facing his sister fully, “Are we actually going to this man’s school?”

Wanda looked away from her brother and ran a hand through her hair, “I think… that maybe we might need to.” She answered, “Something about him was good, I suppose. I was unable to get into his mind, but he didn’t shut me out completely, he just put up a wall of some sort.”

Pietro nodded, “Did you see anything?”

“Vague memories. Ones I can only assume he was okay with showing the world. They were bits and pieces of his school and what I can only assume are his friends.”

“So, sister, we are doing this?”

Wanda nodded slowly, “I think so.” She answered, “This feels important.”

“Avengers level important?”

She shook her head, “Important to us, and only us, Pietro.”

Pietro nodded slowly before he held out a hand, taking Wanda’s in his and giving a comforting squeeze.

“When should we leave?” Wanda asked.

“Soon, I would think.” He replied.

Wanda sighed, “But the twins and Natasha and Peter...”

“We need to talk to them, Wanda.”

She nodded and glanced down the hallway. Suddenly, Wanda was on her feet, dragging Pietro with her and waving a hand. The lights in the living room all turned on and the door to the guest room and master bedroom were pushed open. A few moments later, Peter and Natasha peeked out from their respective rooms.

Wanda sucked in a breath as Pietro spoke, “We all need to talk.”

Minutes later, when Pietro and Wanda had done their best to explain the recent events to a wide-eyed Peter and a stone-faced Natasha.

“You’re going to the school?” Peter questioned once they were done.

Pietro nodded, “Whatever this is, it's important.” He explained, “But so are you and Natasha and the twins.”

Natasha looked between them all, “Charles Xavier, right?” She echoed.

Wanda nodded.

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, “He’s a mutant, but I’m sure you two figured that out, but more importantly, he’s worked alongside Tony before for some of Tony’s private missions.”

“Well, that’s a little more comforting,” Pietro admitted.

“But, to check, should we be doing this?” Wanda asked.

Peter and Natasha shared a look before Natasha spoke, “You said this felt important, Wanda. Unless Xavier suddenly switched teams, I don’t think this will necessarily be a bad thing.”

“But Hanukkah and the twins—” Wanda started.

“Will be here when you come back, or at least the twins will be if you don’t manage your time well enough.”

Wanda looked to Pietro as she nodded.

“ Are we going? ” She pushed the question into his mind.

“ I think so .” He thought back.

“When would be a good time to leave?” Pietro questioned.

⊗

The next morning, early but not too early, Pietro and Wanda had packed some of their things and were standing on the porch to bid their family goodbye. Aunt May had shown up as well when Peter had shared the news with her on accident during their call earlier in the morning.

She didn’t know the entire story, but knew a much clearer and nicer version. She hugged the twins and wished them luck first, followed by Peter who gave Pietro a long kiss and a tight hug and another hug for Wanda. Natasha had done the same for the twins, only opposite, and then let the boys say their goodbyes.

They had been informed that their mother and uncle would be back in time for Hanukkah, a promise, so their goodbyes were helpfully less teary than Natasha had expected.

“Be careful.” Peter whispered into Pietro’s ear during one last hug, “And let us know if something goes south. Anything. Have Wanda do some mind thing or run back here and say a single word, just don’t leave us in the dark if things go south.”

Pietro nodded and pressed one last kiss into Peter’s hair.

Soon, Pietro had scooped Wanda up into his arms, their small bags held against her. The bags had been made up as a last minute decision, due to the sudden realization of the chance that this “discussion” may take more than just an hour or two.

He took a deep breath before he was off, heading to Westchester County, New York.