Vanished {Pietro Maximoff}

Epilogue

"Bruce kissed me." Natasha tried to mention casually, a feat that was impossible when in the company of Tony Stark, who immediately emitted a scandalised gasp and dropped his tea cup.

"What happened?"

"It was in Sokovia. I picked him up from the station, he looked really happy to see me and then we just...kissed."

"I knew I should have gone to the station. What happened next?" Tony sounded laidback but his attempted joke held no humour and Natasha knew him well enough that the tone was covering up something deeper— the question was preparation for getting hurt.

"He stepped back— I knew from his expression what he was going to say— and then he said no." If she pointed it out, Tony would just deny it, but Natasha knew a look of relief when she saw it.

"I'm sorry, Nat. That must have hurt you, I know you two got on well and you liked him."

Natasha didn't correct Steve. It was easy to act as though she liked Bruce— he was kind and honest and good and the kind of person that is easiest to love. The men around her all assumed she loved and wanted them, and if not then there must be another man who was just as strong and brave and handsome as they were.

Natasha was happiest on her own. It was nice to have a someone around to make her feel less alone— just friendship— but the problem was people rarely wanted to be friends with her.

"Look at us," Tony sighed, "Two of the hottest people in New York and we were both rejected by an Edward Norton lookalike."

"Bruce doesn't look like Edward Norton."

"Did you see him in 2008? Spitting image, it's weird."

Natasha bit back a dismissive answer, "When did you meet Bruce back then? He was hard enough to track down when Fury decided he wanted him on the Avengers."

"I met his grandma last year and we went through photo albums. She made rugelach filled with honey, they were surprisingly delicious."

"You're such a stalker."

Tony repeated what Natasha had said in a high pitched, mocking voice. Natasha's eyes narrowed, a deadly warning and Steve waved a hand between them, drawing their attention to him,

"Stop arguing. Neither of you had a chance so just get over him."

"Like you're over Peggy?" Natasha asked with a sweet smile.

"Alright, Romanoff—"

"Hypocrisy doesn't suit you, Rogers." She quickly interrupted, rubbing the burn mark on the mug, "Neither do those pants, you can't see that fine ass of yours when you're in them."

"Language."

"Люблю смотреть на твою попку, когда ты ходишь. And that was Russian."

A whirl of blue swept around the room, belonging to Pietro, who was meant to be working over in Brooklyn at a cafe. Natasha frowned— she enjoyed the free coffees he gave her while working.

"Why do you people not check your phones?" Pietro's voice got louder at the end of his question until it cracked. He coughed and began panting for breath.

"Why, what's happened?" Tapping her foot on the floor, Natasha heard the reassuring clink of the knife strapped there against the stone.

Pietro grabbed at his waist, probably nursing a stitch, Natasha thought, and stood up straighter, "The news. Go to the news,"

Both Steve and Tony reached for their phones; Tony allowed face-id to open his while Steve painstakingly slowly turned his on.

"Oh, I have five missed calls from Sam. And one from Rhodey." He tried to type his password, 1939, and had to retry as it was wrong. Tony's eyes rapidly scanned down the breaking news story.

"What happened?"

"I don't—" Tony was caught off guard, his drifting attention now focused entirely on whatever article was important, "Oh my god."

"Oh my god good? Or oh my god bad?" There was no reply from Tony.

Steve had managed to get locked out of his phone.

"What's going on?" Natasha snapped, reaching to take Tony's phone from him as he randomly stood up,

"They found a body— in Sokovia."

"No."

"Yes. It's...Alex."

"Alex?"

"And the body is alive."