CRASH/BURN

“Thank you for meeting me here,” He says as he opens the door to his apartment, lets Kate through the threshold. He had half expected her to refuse the invitation, or to arrive with her bow strung up and pulled back, aimed right at his heart. He wouldn’t have blamed her, he’s aware of how it must look from the outside--it might have even been the universe’s version of a kind of just punishment. He doesn’t bother sitting, doesn’t busy his hands tidying up things like he normally would--he hasn’t slept here for the past couple of weeks, relying on the long practiced skills of finding warm enough barns and the beds of strangers when he can come by them. As it stands he doesn’t feel comfortable being here--he keeps waiting for the police or the Justice League or a member of the brotherhood to kick down the door and haul him away. 

“I owe you an explanation, but you have to promise me that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Not to America, or anyone--it could potentially put my sister and others in danger. It could put you in danger, but I believe you’re capable of handling yourself.” He says finally, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he paces. “I was a member of the Brotherhood, and I did some horrible things when I was with them--but I had a reason, for what it’s worth.” He sighs and drags his hands down his face. “My biological father is Magneto, a fact which I was not aware of until he rescued Wanda and I from a difficult situation. He manipulated us into joining, told us that he could protect us, that he should have protected us from the beginning.” He meets her eyes then, folds his arms across his chest. “It was all a lie of course, he just wanted two powerful mutants at his disposal. It’s something I’ve been trying to make up for every day, Kate. If such a thing is even possible.” 

It feels idiotic to say because it has always been that way, but his first thought was of Wanda. If the world knew that Pietro had been a member of the Brotherhood it would only be a matter of time before they followed it to his twin sister, and she has so much more to lose than he does--she loves being an Avenger, whereas Pietro only followed her to the team, and she found the love of her life and has a home with him. She shouldn't be asked to forfeit any of it because Pietro was weak to the suggestion of their father, because Pietro enjoyed playing at princeling and has always been hard hearted to everyone else in the world apart from her. 

“It’s me, Wanda.” He says when he arrives at her apartment door, his hood pulled up over his white hair--he didn’t dare run, not with the whole world looking for the signs of his super speed. They won’t expect him to walk, to keep pace with them. He leans his forehead against the wood of the door and exhales, tries to steel himself if only for her benefit. If he has his way, this will rest squarely on his shoulders--he’ll lie and tell anyone who asks that they were separated at the time, that Magneto came to him and preyed on the hatred of a young man who had lost everything to a world that would never accept him for who he was. She’ll be safe with Storm. 

The door opens and he hurries inside, puts his hands on his sister’s shoulders and meets her eyes. “You have to know that I didn’t tell a soul,” He says, and he is unable to keep his voice from sounding pleading. “I would never do that to you, to Johnny. Whoever did this--they got it from my mind somehow, you have to believe me.” 

It’s no different from running from village to village when he was younger, the hatred that people carry with them doesn’t really change from location to location--he can deal with that. What he’s struggling with is the collateral damage, the life that his sister loves and has fought to built for herself--it’s all in danger because of him. He shakes his head and inhales sharply, throws back a shot and winces at the way it burns on the way down. “If there is anything else you wish to know you may as well ask it, as it appears as though my desire to hide the details of my life means very little if anything anymore.” 

“I feel like I should be apologizing to you for taking up precious space in your brain with my sordid past.” He drawls, scrubs a hand over his face. There’s a headache blooming behind his eyes, the product of a thousand thoughts beating against the walls of his skull. “You should trust that under normal circumstances, I would never willingly tell anyone anything about myself. I hate it when people do that, which is surely delicious irony for whoever is responsible I’m sure.” He shrugs his shoulders again, exhales slowly and does his best to put something resembling a friendly expression on his face. “In any case, you should let me buy you a drink, since you’re on my team. I’m not exactly in a position to refuse friends.” 

He already knows how the public will react, he doesn't need to stick around to be subject to it in any kind of physical way. He takes off first thing in the morning, heads for a small village on the border between Germany and France where he knows he won’t get too many questions as long as he speaks the language. He keeps his hood up, reads through three novels before midday and tries not too look over his shoulder too often--for all he knows, Magneto himself could have done something to reveal Pietro’s connection to the Brotherhood. He moves again after an older woman rests a hand on his shoulder, asks him if he’s in some kind of danger--he moves from a small town near the fjords to an English village with more sheep than people.

All of the running is a temporary solution to a larger problem, but it’s the only thing that is capable of speaking some comfort to his mind. He had thought he was past this point in his life, past being afraid that his father was going to find him eventually, past running from place to place to avoid the hatred of other people--he should have known that everything revolved in a circular pattern. He ends up back in the city a few hours after nightfall, slouched at a table in the back of the main room of some hole in the wall bar--even though he is incapable of getting drunk. He sees a familiar face approach, throws back a shot that really doesn’t taste like anything. “Should I be comforted by the lack of a pitchfork? Or are the rest of the villagers just lagging?” He drawls, raises an eyebrow.

“You’re clearly aware of what my body can do, what other shoes would I wear?” He raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, sets his mouth in a thin line. “Also, I’m not a complete heathen, those are this season’s Adidas.” He huffs and waves a hand dismissively, a gesture this body seems practiced in. “None of that matters, you have my body and I would like it back. What do you know about all of this?” He may not have his speed, but he still has his mind and he’s feeling as restless as ever, gesturing between the two of them before pacing back and forth. He drags his hands over his face and sighs exasperatedly, turns his gaze up to the ceiling. “Either way, I suppose I’m going to have to teach you how to control it, at the very least so you don’t break every bone I have running into walls. Please tell me you don’t have some power I’m not aware of? Besides attracting stolen goods?”

“I am--fine, all things considered.” He says when he emerges from her room a moment later, dressed in leggings and a floral hoodie--he had never thought much about his sister’s taste in clothes, but he’s suddenly aware of how much she favors a--bold print. “More annoyed than anything, which isn’t exactly unusual for me I suppose. She moves at a pace which I can only describe as below pedestrian, particularly in those shoes, oh--and I’m fairly certain she’s a thief.” He says and rolls his eyes, folds his arms across his chest like it’s nothing. “Those paintings that the Metropolitan reported missing? Jewels? I think I found them. If only I had the speed necessary to return them.” He flops down on the couch, leans into his sister as she examines several books on the coffee table. 

He straightens to his full height, folds his arms across his chest and shrugs his shoulders. “Then I assure you I’ll be more careful with any following remarks.” He rolls his eyes when Storm declares the invitation almost a compliment. “This is simply a case of you being in the right place, at the right time. And the fact that I know it would please my sister greatly, if we were to spend time together.” He idly scratches both dogs behind the ears when Johnny disappears to grab leashes, and he’s unable to stop the corners of his lips from pulling up into a smile. This all had seemed so far fetched not so long ago--that he would be sitting in his sister’s apartment waiting for the man she loves, that he could have come from something as idle and frivolous as a soccer game in the park. He’s--happy. Or as close as he could possibly come, in that moment. 

“I believe this is the part where we make small talk,” He says, when they’re sitting at an outdoor table with the dogs laying at their feet. “My sister tells me you have a new job.” 

“What makes you think I would simply turn him over to you if I met him?” He snorts and shrugs his shoulders. “I’d clearly seduce him myself, I believe it was you who told me ‘the whole sexy and mysterious European thing really works for you’. Of course you’d be welcome to our quaint English estate when the time comes, and if he asks about my incredible sexual prowess, I’d be more than happy to list you as a reference.” He pats her knee in mock sympathy, but he’s laughing, failing to fight the grin that’s spreading across his face. “Though I preferred him as the pirate to the elf.” 

🔥: What’s a place that left them motivated in some fashion?

💞: What was their first love like?

It was a boy from one of the villages that he and his family were living in--they both lifted fruit from the same cart, which garnered the attention of the owner. Pietro grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away because he knew he was faster, and they developed a friendship and eventually a relationship. It ended when the family inevitably had to move again, and made it clear to Pietro that he was always going to be a little too transient for love.

✨: What motivates them? Is it a deep rooted passion/motivation, or is it something they struggle with from time to time?