‹ maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me/cause after all, you're my w o n d e r w a l l ›
"I have to go with Bruce!" Florea cried, actual tears brimming her eyes. The rest of the Avengers shared nervous looks. They never had much experience when it came to Florea getting upset; it was usually Natasha who was able to calm her down, but at the moment, Natasha wasn't there.
For the past hour, they had been distributing labor for their next mission. J.A.R.V.I.S' synthetic body version, named Vision, had calculated Ultron's next move. After his plans to tap in to the world's internet codes, the Vision predicted Ultron's final act. The replication of Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction event, in which Ultron would raise the city of Sokovia in to the atmosphere and use it as a meteor to wipe everyone out.
Florea had come in to the meeting when it was halfway through, only to find out she wasn't the one-man party assigned to rescue Natasha who was under Ultron's captivity.
"I have to save her!" Florea sobbed. Tony whispered something to Bruce, who then scuttled out of the room. Thor was patting Florea's back awkwardly. "Florea, saving Natasha isn't too complicated," Steve said, distressed. His eyes shifted uneasily towards the other men in an implied message of 'help me'. "Bruce is competent—"
"And you're saying I'm not?" Florea snapped, bursting in to more tears. Bruce came back in with the Maximoff twins in tow. "What did you do to her?" Pietro growled, at Florea's side in an instant. He placed his hands on her shoulders in an act of protectiveness, and his concern put a smirk on Tony's lips. It was quite obvious how much Florea meant to this twin.
"We're explaining to her how saving Natasha can be done by Bruce alone, and we'd prefer it if she was with a bigger group." Steve told Pietro and Wanda. Pietro's grip on Florea's shoulders loosened, and he looked down at the girl. "Tell them I can do it!" Florea demanded, turning to the twins. The Maximoffs glanced at each other; Wanda being the braver one to speak their thoughts.
"Flo, I think Steve's right..." Wanda began hesitantly, but she was cut off when Florea wailed. The Damion girl turned to look at Bruce, practically pleading: "Bruce, tell them I have to be there! Tell Steve you need my help!"
Bruce looked torn as he twiddled his thumbs together, avoiding Florea's eyes. "F-Flor, Natasha would like you to be safe," he mumbled. "If she where here, I-I'm sure she'd prefer you were with the rest. It doesn't endanger you that much."
All the hope in Florea's expression drained at Bruce's words. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her fist. "You're all unbelievable," she hissed, wrenching herself free of Pietro's grip and practically bolting out of the room.
"I've got her." Wanda and Pietro chorused at the same time, before leaving to comfort Florea.
[ . . . ]
Florea was, in the simplest of terms, pissed off. At everyone. She didn't want to talk to anybody, which resulted to her locking herself in to her room. This wasn't a rare occurrence in the Avengers household. Florea often got in to moods where she simply did not want to deal with whatever shit was going down within Steve and Stark's bickering or the likes; but during all of those times, Natasha had been there to coax Florea out.
Natasha. The thought of her being held captive by Ultron caused Florea to let out a horrible sob. She was on the carpeted floor, her blankets strewn across the ground and her pillow tight in her arms. At her sob, her mutation kicked in, the room draining of all light as a directly proportional effect to Florea's distress. Everything within the confines of the room silenced, too; not a single rustle would have been heard. Florea would have probably deprived herself of gravity, too, if she didn't begin to hear fists rapping against her door.
"Go away!" Florea bawled. She figured it must have been Steve, or Bruce, or maybe even Thor; but when she heard Pietro's low voice rumble, "Flo, let us in", she couldn't help but look up. "No." Florea called out defiantly, hugging her pillow closer to her chest.
"Flo, please." This time it was Wanda. Florea let out a muffled scream, burying her face in to her pillow. She hoped this would encourage the twins to lay off. When she heard the click of her door's lock, Florea figured she thought wrong.
"Why is it so damn dark?" Florea heard Pietro ask. She sighed before flicking her wrist. The light flooded back in; from the windows, the light bulbs. Looking up, Florea found the two squinting at the sudden outburst of brightness.
"Light manipulation," Florea croaked as answer to their unspoken questions. Wanda looked over at Florea, her expression sad. "Flo..." the older girl said quietly, sitting next to Florea. "I just want to save her." Florea trembled, trying to make herself as small as possible. Wanda put her arm around Florea, rubbing the Damion girl's back in an attempt to pacify her. "I just want to be able to repay the favor," Florea continued to babble. "Natasha was the one who was always there for me— and they— they won't even let me try and help her—"
"Flo, Bruce Banner had a point, you know?" Pietro said, his tone soft. He remained standing, a few steps away from the two girls. "I'm sure Natasha would prefer you in a safer environment with more people to look after you."
"I don't need people to look after me!" Florea retorted. Her voice was scratchy, watering down her furious glare at Pietro. "I am very much capable of taking care of myself!"
That was a complete lie, and Florea knew it. She was impulsive, moody; a time bomb waiting to explode. Without the others, she was an emotional wreck; not having Natasha was the mere beginning of her hurricane like attitude.
"We know that, Flo," Wanda murmured. "We know you're able, it's just..."
"Remember that time when you were six," Pietro began, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. "And I told you you were too much of a pipsqueak to climb the apple tree across the street? You cursed me and said you could do it. I dared you to, and being the prideful little thing you were, you did it and proved me wrong by reaching the very top.
"But then you couldn't get down. And you were crying, and Wanda was crying, and I was going to cry, too, but then I thought of something. I climbed the tree and sat next to you and told you that now we both couldn't get down. Then Wanda climbed up too. And the three of us stayed up there for hours, unable to get down until your father brought out his ladder. The only difference was that we all couldn't get down together.
"That's how it is with you, Flo. I— we— know you can do whatever you say you can do. You don't need to prove it. You don't need to give us evidence. But we don't want you getting stuck there, all alone. If you ever get stuck, we'd be much more comfortable knowing you're stuck with us; because for us three, it's all or nothing. Always has been and always will be."
For a few minutes, Pietro's warm words lingered in the room. Wanda sniffled, and Florea let out a laugh. "Come here, you big nerd," she called out affectionately. Pietro's smile spread across his face as he obliged, sitting by Florea's left since Wanda was at her right.
And then started a chain of reminisces of their childhood. Stories that began with 'remember when' and ended with fits of laughter; memories that brought forth a grin, a groan, a giggle, a guffaw. For God knows how long did the three sit there on the floor, talking over one another. For a handful of priceless moments did they revel in their past, back when times and people were much simpler.
When Wanda noticed that night had already fallen, she excused herself, leaving Pietro and Florea to laugh over some stupid memory of a food fight. Their laughter concealed the sound of Wanda locking the door behind her, the darkness hiding the smile the matchmaker twin had to herself.
As Florea and Pietro eventually calmed, the girl let out a breath. "I missed this." she let herself admit. 'This' was generic, and Florea meant everything: she missed laughing 'till her sides hurt. She missed having people to talk about Sokovia to. She missed Wanda's voice. She missed the twins' humor. She missed Pietro.
The white-haired boy nodded, taking Florea's hand in his. "Me too." he agreed, absent-mindedly tracing circles on the balk of her palm with his thumb. Florea stared at it, at the act so unconscious that Pietro probably didn't realize he was doing it.
"Pietro?" "Yes?" "Do I still matter to you?"
Pietro pulled his hand away from her's so suddenly that Florea was scared she'd said something wrong. She then felt her head being tilted upwards, finding her face inches from Pietro's. His electric blue eyes searched her face for something, his eyebrows furrowed in possible confusion or anger.
"Florea Grace Damion," he said, his voice low and deadly. Florea's eyes flicked towards his lips mouthing her name. "Look at me." he demanded, and Florea obliged, her eyes moving back upwards to level his.
"Don't you ever, not for a heartbeat, think you will not mean anything to me." Pietro quivered. "Next to Wanda, you mean the world to me. Do you understand?"
Florea nodded, still acutely aware of how close Pietro's face was from her's. Pietro's gaze wandered to Florea's lips, and a chorus of Oh my God, he's gonna kiss me, he's gonna kiss me, he's gonna kiss me erupted in Florea's head... only to have Pietro look away, his face turned away from Florea.
"I guess I should get going." Pietro said, his tone drained of all emotion. He stood and was quickly making his way towards the door when Florea found her voice: "Wait!"
Pietro stopped in his tracks, one hand frozen on the door knob. Florea scrambled up, her cheeks tinged pink.
"Would you— can you— please— stay?" Florea stammered, only realizing how ridiculous her request was the moment it left her mouth. Pietro looked at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.
"Nightmares." Florea whimpered. "And... if it's fine with you... if it's okay... just until at least I fall asleep..."
She heard Pietro sigh before turning around, taking the few strides back to Florea. "Come on, ya big baby," Pietro joked softly, tucking a loose strand of Florea's auburn hair behind her ear. "I'll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands."
A few minutes later, they had established a position on her bed in which Florea's head rested on Pietro's chest with his arm draped around her waist. Florea could hear his heartbeat— skipping like a rabbit— and she felt the gentle fall and rise of his chest. Pietro, on the other hand, was humming as he stroked Florea's hair.
Back beat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out...
Florea remembered that song. Oasis had released it in 1995, and she could vaguely recall their younger selves— Wanda, Pietro and her— singing it down the street. Those were the days Pietro was struggling to learn how to play guitar in school, the days he could barely get past the first few chords before giving up.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
In the seconds that took Pietro sang that line, Florea felt like a thousand bricks had hit her. Because, quite possibly, she came to the realization that she was Natasha when it came to Bruce; she came to the realization that she might have been in love with Pietro Django Maximoff. And the elation of her realization didn't last long, because all she could think about was the thought of how he, Pietro Maximoff, would never love her back.
"Florea?" "Mmm?"
And all the roads we have to walk are winding, and all the lights that lead us there are blinding.
Florea had just about had enough of winding walks and blinding lights. She closed her eyes, and tried to let sleep take her away. For some few, precious moments, at least she could let herself believe Pietro loved her, too.
‹ - a d d. - ›
"Florea?" "Mmm?"
There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how...
"Te iusbec."
He had said it. Pietro had finally said it, finally told her he loved her. In Romanian, yes, because that was when he fell for her: the very first day he laid his eyes on her. When she moved in to the house next door. Pietro held his breath, waiting for a response, when she shifted in his arms and let out a soft snore.
She was asleep. Pietro watched in disbelief as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, too cute for her own good. "Silly girl." Pietro mumbled, disappointed and relieved at the same time. He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead before pulling her closer to him and willing himself to sleep as well.
Little did he know, Florea had smiled; and when she was sure he was asleep, her lips formed the right response: "Și eu te iubesc."
I love you too.