Inheritance of ash

Day three - part two

"You won't find her like that. She could be anywhere," she said coolly.

Peter cleared his throat, tissue dabbing at his cheeks and answered Kate's question. "It's kinda... your fault, actually."

Kate's voice shot up an octave. "HOW COULD THIS POSSIBLY BE OUR FAULT?!"

Peter winced, scratching the back of his neck. "You told me to distract them, remember?"

Kate blinked. Yelena raised an eyebrow. Pietro was still pacing, muttering to himself, phone ringing unanswered.

Peter continued, sheepish. "So I, uh... faked a mental breakdown. About Bucky. In front of everyone."

Kate's hands flew up to her mouth. "WHAT."

Peter nodded quickly, rushing to justify. "And it worked. Like, too well. Tony won't leave me alone for more than half an hour. Thor keeps bringing me Pop-Tarts. Literally every flavor. Bruce ran and hid. Steve gave me ice cream and a motivational speech—though honestly it felt like he needed it more." His voice softened. "He looked... tired."

Kate just stared.

Peter kept going. "Clint was suspicious, but nothing happened, so it's fine."

The three of them just stood there, processing.

Finally Pietro muttered, eyes still glued to his phone, "That still doesn't explain the mascara."

Kate spun to him instantly. "THANK YOU."

Peter flushed red. "I suck at fake crying, okay? So I needed it to look real. Mascara helped."

"No, it didn't," Yelena muttered dryly.

Kate rubbed her temples. "But you don't wear mascara! How—why—MY BRAIN IS OVERSTIMULATED."

"Join the club," Pietro muttered, hitting redial again.

Peter's face burned hotter. "I told them it was so I could feel more... connected to Bucky. Y'know, with the whole 'smokey eyes' thing he had going on back in the day."

Somehow, they'd believed it.

Idiots.

Kate's eye twitched.

Peter dabbed uselessly at his face. "I feel bad for women. This stuff is impossible. Respect."

Kate whipped out her phone and snapped a picture before he could react.

"HEY!" Peter tried to grab for it, but froze when his eyes caught on her jacket.

Not her jacket. Yelena's.

Peter grinned. "New look, Bishop?"

Kate's cheeks flushed pink instantly. "I—It's cold."

"She was cold," Yelena said calmly, unbothered.

Kate's blush deepened. Peter smiled to himself, deciding not to push it—though the image was definitely stored away for later questioning.

But the reminder hit him like a weight: they were still missing someone.

Pietro's mutter broke the silence. "Living room."

The others followed him without a word.

They barely made it three steps into the room before Pietro stopped dead in the doorway. He froze so suddenly that Kate bumped into his back, and Peter and Yelena nearly collided with both of them.

"Why are you—" Kate started, but cut herself off when she saw his face. His eyes were fixed on the couch. Not moving. Not blinking.

"Wanda?" Pietro's voice was soft, almost disbelieving.