explosion | OPEN POST.

[ Wanda knows she's sporting a rather dumbfounded expression as she peers up at him. Ah, yes; this is what it means when the girls say they know when a boy knows how to kiss. It's something she's always known about Pietro, but sometimes she finds herself gobsmacked by it. She licks her bottom lip absently and wonders if she's still breathing at all. ]

No. [ She says it too quietly. Her face is flushed and the apartment's starting to feel a little warmer than before.

That kiss had been more than grateful, but Wanda wishes to be selfish on her birthday. Even more selfish, given everything he's given her already. ]

I had that cupcake especially made for you. That was like you were thanking me for having gotten any other cupcake.

[Pietro snorts, but it turns into more of an amused huff of a noise.]

You are pushing it.

[He runs his fingers along the side of Wanda's flushed face, studying her expression and debating whether he should give in this early.]

But... it is your birthday, and it was especially made.

[After that statement, his hands are at her sides and he lifts her without warning, turning to set her down on the edge of the table. He slides the suncatcher out of the way, careful not to do so hastily. Leaning over her, he braces one arm on the table and kisses her again, abruptly but as long and slow as he can manage. Before he's done, his hand is wandering along her thigh.]

[ Quietly incredulous, ] I am pushing it.

[ But Wanda presses her hand back against the table, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that the sun catcher is nowhere where it could possibly break. It's the one thing in Sokovia aside from Pietro that Stark's bombs are not allowed to destroy.

She slides a little along the table to get comfortable, parting her legs even more so she can hook her feet beneath his ass and capture him. She ignores her shiver at his hand on her thigh. She wishes that she'd opted to wear just her underwear without the little pyjama shorts Inessa hadn't lifted for her. It'd make for a better landing for Pietro's hand. ]

I merely state facts, Pietro. [ She declares it with an upward tilt of her head. Brushing her other hand against his face, Wanda wonders when he'll grow tired of her legs trapping him in one spot. ] It is a very special cupcake. No one else will ever have that cupcake. I think you can be a little more grateful in your old age, hm?

[His fingers just starting to creep under the edge of Wanda's shorts, Pietro pulls them back with an annoyed sigh as she continues harping. He can't really make as big of a scene as he wants to with her trapping his legs and her hand on his face while he leans on one arm, but he's going to try. He settles for waving his free hand wildly and leaving his arm outstretched like he would have done with both of them, one half of a 'what now?' gesture, and rolling his eyes in exasperation.]

This is not grateful enough for you? What is it you want, hmm?

[He shrugs and levels an expectant gaze at Wanda.]

I'm waiting.

[And Pietro hates waiting, he's being very patient with these antics this early in the morning.]

[ Pietro must mean it if he's waiting. Wanda thinks to stall, but it's his birthday and he's twelve minutes older than he was last night, so she considers it a kindness that she shows him mercy on such a day. Reluctantly unwrapping her legs from around him, she lets them hang off the edge of the table as she withdraws her hand from his face. Resting her other hand behind her, she peers up at him and sighs dramatically. ]

I want kiss here. [ She taps the corner of her mouth before she smiles knowingly up at him. If he wants to know how he should show his gratitude, then she'll encourage him to do it at her pace: nice and slow. Appreciative. ]

[His initial smugness over getting her to tell him what she wants is short-lived. Pietro scoffs, mostly to himself, after she brings her finger to the corner of her mouth and smiles like that. It's going to be slow, and not more of something like he'd expected, but less. Pushing Wanda into being direct was a bad and poorly thought out move.]

Really.

[It's not even a question, he's just resigned to the fact that Wanda can always find a way to undermine him, and Pietro will go along with it the majority of the time, no matter how much he might protest first. She has so much power over him and he doesn't think she even knows.]

And you always get what you want, don't you?

[It's chiding, but rhetorical. Even though her legs are no longer wrapped around his, Pietro feels just as rooted to that spot as before. One gentle hand on her neck, twirling a strand of her hair idly in his fingers, he gives her that kiss - too light and slow, and with more reverence that he'd ever admit to thinking Wanda deserves.]

Yes.

[ Not always. What Wanda often wants is fantastical. She wants the perfect picket fence life where bombs don't break walls and floors and suck parents into black holes. She wants to have the reaffirmation that Pietro will never leave her, even though she knows he never will by choice. Telling Pietro as much will only encourage him to roll his eyes and erect his walls. He sees the world for all the black in it while she tries to find all the cracks of light.

He's the biggest burst of light for her.

She smiles as he entertains her request and swings her legs gently for a moment before stilling. She sighs wistfully and smiles. This kiss is enough, but she's always been greedy for more of him.

She gazes at him softly, almost as though she's sated with merely that. But she's Wanda, and she'll keep asking for more of him as long as he continues to give himself to her. ]

Here next. [ She tilts her head to the side and taps her fingers on the underside of her jaw. ]

[With the way Wanda looks at him right now, a reflection of his own internal contentment for the smallest of affections he in turn gets from her, everything else falls away. This moment is hers, theirs, and Pietro will kiss her anywhere she wants, as slowly and attentively as she wants... for as long as he can stand it.]

You're impossible.

[It's nothing but affectionate, murmured against the delicate skin underneath her jaw, his typical grousing still habitual but downplayed on this one day. He can give her that.]

[ Wanda briefly closes her eyes as she hums in contentment. She rests most of her weight against the table, thinking next about how to continue to be as impossible as Pietro claims she is. She should be content with what he's given her, but Wanda never is. She always wants more from him, especially in the moments where he's willing to give anything silly she demands. ]

Here.

[ She brushes her fingers against her collarbones, looking at him expectantly. ]

[Pietro holds growing vexation for his inability to refuse her on this, sighing internally as he obediently kisses her collarbone. Not in one spot, but very very slowly going along the entire length, gently aiming to make marks, and issuing minor complaints every moment he isn't actively tonguing and sucking on her skin.]

We go any slower here and we'll be here all day.

[Despite his best effort not to show it, that does come with a tinge of actual irritation, but it's not for Wanda.]

You're not even dressed yet. Don't you want breakfast? Have other plans? It is your birthday...

My plans were to spend it with you.

[ Wanda feels vulnerable admitting as much. What if Pietro had other plans and other people to see? What if he wanted to spend some of the day away from his twelve minutes younger shadow? Sometimes Wanda's surprised by when both of them seem to make plans that don't involve the other. It feels as though the world is inside out and upside down when that happens.

She smiles at him and brushes her fingers roughly through his hair. ]

I will have breakfast when you have breakfast and I will get dressed when you get dressed. Although, I think I am dressed fine.

You're slow. I've done both of those things.

[He rolls his eyes in exasperation. Granted, 'getting dressed' had just involved putting on sweatpants and a warmer shirt and Pietro looks no more ready to leave the apartment than she does, and the cupcake hardly counts as breakfast.]

But... I'm not going to complain if you decide to wear these all day.

[He plays with the hem of Wanda's shorts while there's no current demand for kisses.]

Now, your plans? Awful. You've given this no thought at all and you've had an entire year to plan things. Of course you want to spend the day with me, but what do we do?

[And before she even suggests it:]

No television. That is your other gift to me.

[ She pouts. Although, she does intend to press him later in the day to see if he'll give in and watch television. Wanda enjoys it when Pietro concedes much to his own displeasure. It's cute when he pouts.

She sighs dramatically and glances down at her shorts. Perhaps she can wear these for him for his birthday. Sometimes Pietro is so easy to give gifts to.

She fingers his shirt. ] We need to go to the park. [ The park that still looks like a park, even if the flowers look like they're dying and there'd dust along the benches. It's still a nice hideaway from the world around them, and a nice spot to sit and enjoy. ] Your friends will want to see you before the wrinkles set in.

[ Wanda quickly brushes her fingers between his brows and traces the slope of his nose. ]

[Pietro knows that look, and she'll use that same little pout to convince him to watch something horrible later, picking from the worst DVDs they have available. Her suggestion gets an affirmative shrug, though.]

We'll go to the park.

[He remembers when it used to be nicer, he thinks, when someone manicured the grass in the summer, there were flowers most of the year that weren't the way they are now, more like twisted weeds among barren patches. It's more inviting in the winter now, when a layer of snow or a hard frost covers everything and they can pretend it isn't a poor reflection of what it used to be. Even then, it somehow manages to have a serenity to it every time they go, infrequently, and he attributes more than half of that feeling to nostalgia for things that aren't ever quite the way he recalls them. Wanda will want to sit on the benches and 'relax' forever, but Pietro intends to wander around and she'll just have to come along with him while he talks (and flirts) with people that aren't her and maybe gets distracted playing with someone's dog.]

Will you stop?

[Pulling Wanda's hand away gently, he frowns just to make the most exaggerated wrinkles, and looks at her with pity.]

Maybe I have one or two. It's you they're not going to recognize. So much scrunching your nose, now there are lines everywhere and you look ten years older. It's getting embarrassing to be seen with you and claim you are my twin.

[ Speaking of scrunching her nose, she does so on purpose as she pulls a face at him. She taps his nose once more with her other hand, unable to help herself. He may be quick and restless, but Wanda likes to press buttons until things and people almost explode.

She tilts her head to the side as she eyes him curiously. ]

If I look like I am ten years older, does that mean you will now listen to me?

[ Of course, she knows the answer. No. He will never listen to her. Even if she was to physically age more quicker than him, he would still laud the fact that he's twelve minutes older over her head. It's exasperating most times, but Wanda knows what it is. It's his way of being there for her and looking after her when he won't admit that's what he wants to do. ]

Never.

[He scoffs like that isn't even an option worthy of being entertained, nevermind the fact that Pietro does what she wants a great deal of the time. Especially when he can ignore something was Wanda's idea to begin with and take it as his own, which is exactly what he's going to do with the park outing.]

No matter how old and wrinkly you get, I am sorry to say.

[He runs his finger down her nose like she had done to him, then abruptly dismisses anything they'd started, the suncatcher wobbling on the table top as he quickly slides past to go searching through cabinets and the refrigerator for a few seconds as if he's going to make a hurried breakfast because they're late for something, a frying pan clattering on the stove, a carton of eggs balanced precariously on the edge of the sink. Pietro looks over his shoulder with an impatient raise of his eyebrows, gesturing at Wanda with a spatula.]

Will you get off the table and stop playing around? I would like to get to the park sometime today, Wanda!

[It's loud enough for the neighbour across the hallway to hear - everyone has to know he's the one in charge here, unfortunately stuck with the worst and slowest sister possible, just imagine what he has to deal with.]

[ Wanda sighs as she twists on the table and ensures that sun catcher isn't going to topple off and over the side. It'd be a pity to lose something so beautiful to the consequence of Pietro's impatience.

Sliding off the table, Wanda pivots on her foot as though she's about to leave the kitchen and get ready… but she approaches him and leans against his back, wrapping her arms around his middle. She rests her cheek against his back. ]

Once we have breakfast, we can go. I'm all ready.

[ In her pyjama shorts, which he insisted she wear, and he can wear his track pants that aren't quite as impressive as some of the stupidly tight pants he chooses to wear. How he moves in them is beyond her. ]

[Pietro rests one hand over her arms almost automatically, to make sure she keeps them there wrapped around him instead of prying them off, even if he complains about it directly after.]

Always so clingy.

[He welcomes the heat of Wanda's body against his back, though, and it's slowing him down enough to exercise more caution with the stove. He has a bad habit of cooking everything on high to get it done faster, burning many things in the process when he tries to do too much at once or forgets about something he'd started after it's been half a minute.]

Make yourself useful if you're going to bother me here.

[It's punctuated by tossing a loaf of sliced bread on the counter next to the toaster, but he doesn't let her go to allow her to move.]

[ Wanda knows every time Pietro pushes her away that he's always so desperate to pull her back. But she's particularly grateful that he doesn't push her away now, not when it's his birthday and she feels like being closer to him. It's another year together, another year of surviving gunfire and bombs and the unknown consequences of the experimentation Wanda's still unsure they ever should've participated in.

She likes taking moments to be grateful for what she has. And she's grateful that she has Pietro.

She squeezes him a little more tightly and keeps her cheek pressed against his back, although she does smile at his bossiness. ]

I will need my arms to toast the bread, unless I am to do it with my mind?

[ It's a joke, but considering Wanda's found things relocating concidentally to the location she had wanted them to, she's wondering if she means that literally. ]

[He pauses for a moment, ready to crack and egg on the side of the frying pan, turning his attention instead from the stove to the toaster. Could she do it? They'd both had erratic fluctuations in abilities early on, though Pietro hadn't gotten to witness much of whatever happened with Wanda's first-hand. It should be simple, in theory, to float slices of bread and set them in the toaster, pull the lever... and now he's curious over whether she's capable of that precise control for things that aren't destructive, or if the toaster would melt or some other worst case scenario. He shrugs. The candle had gone pretty well, after all.]

Try it.

[ Now that he encourages it, Wanda loses her nerve immediately. She flexes her hands against his belly and considers pulling back and suggesting they try next time in a fluster. But it's safe to do so here with Pietro. He's not Strucker or his men. He won't be disappointed or utter cruel words because she can't seem to pick a stupid wooden block up off the floor like she's some child learning how the basics of playing with toys.

Still, she clutches at the fabric of his shirt as she looks toward the toaster. Should she look? Should she not look? Even when she had been separated from him, she could still feel him through the wall and imagine every single movement he made simply because Pietro is a part of her.

Wanda concentrates a bit too hard as she peers over his shoulder and looks at the loaf of bread wrapped in plastic. Without anyone's fingers touching it, the wrapping slowly begins to peel as though beneath clumsy hands. It moves jerkily before it pulls back roughly, and the second slice is scrunched between a tight hold of an invisible index and thumb.

It's not as perfect as Wanda wants it to be. She lets out an annoyed huff as the slice of bread rises and then drops against the counter. She'd discarded it on purpose. Her face flushes hot with frustration. ]

Maybe I should use my hands.

[Wanda telegraphs her anxiety so obviously in her hands, nervous movements of her fingers, grabbing at his shirt. There's no confidence in it that Pietro can read, and he can picture her almost hiding behind him while she concentrate. They've left the facility, but it still angers him when he's reminded of how Wanda came out of it. How they'd broken her down with callous words and no empathy, while all she'd done was try to control and master something completely foreign to her without enough time to do it. HYDRA needed them, they were the last ones left, and they'd only managed to discourage Wanda from reaching her potential, making her too apprehensive of retaliation for mistakes that she keeps holding back even now that they're home. Her continued hesitancy frustrates him, but Pietro understands it, even if he still wishes she'd push past it, that it was easier for her to.

They'd tried the same approach with Pietro, but none of it worked on him. He'd reacted too violently to it, on one occasion impulsively rushing one of Strucker's men and slamming him into the wall with such velocity he'd heard something crack. He's not sure what happened to that man after the rest of them dragged his unconscious body out of the cell. But they never spoke that way to Pietro again. Not when he couldn't stop his hands from shaking, not when he'd had difficulty with spatial awareness and tripped over his own feet, or when he'd used too much force and run into a wall for the twelfth time in one day. He'd figured his own shit out without any further 'encouragement'.

The bread flops sadly to the counter, and Pietro sighs to himself. He doesn't speak right away, because the things he says sometimes - most of the time - are rude and snappy and inconsiderate, and the last thing he wants is to inadvertently nudge Wanda further into her shell. He turns away from the toaster, cracks the egg and lets it fall into the pan with a sizzling noise. Slowly, he rubs his thumb over the back of Wanda's hand.]

If you want. I thought you were doing very well.

[As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows they sound wrong. Maybe placating. Too soft. Something that isn't him. But he tried.]

[ The softness might feel strange to Pietro, but it's what Wanda needs. Even if he happened to snap at her, she'd still find comfort in his words. He believes in her. Even when she's exasperating him, Pietro always believes in her without question. He knows when to push and he knows when not to. Wanda's always been the quieter of the two of them, letting her thoughts overflow and even drown her. He's always been on the run, perhaps from the very thing she seems to embrace.

She squeezes him. There's a chance her acknowledging his encouragement might prompt him to disappear in a flurry of motion to get away from the sentiment. ]

No. I'll try again as long as we don't mind squashed bread.

[ She doubts Pietro would mind. Even if the toaster ended up burning the bread until it was charcoal, he'd still eat it like it was the best meal he'd ever had.

Still pressed up against him, Wanda lifts the bread up again. It's still slightly dented, but that hardly matters. It floats as though held by an invisible hand as it glides toward the toaster. It takes her two tries to slot the slice into its tray. Readjusting the settings, she pushes the toast down without any trouble.

And then she realises it was only one slice of bread. ]

Well… [ She chuckles. ] that one can be mine.

[ It's not Wanda unless she does things so slowly. At least this time was by accident! ]

[Pietro tries his best to be patient, while Wanda continues clinging and he's trapped between her and the stove, and the partially squished slice of bread drifts through the air so slowly. It settles into the slot finally on the second try, and it's only when the lever clicks and nothing terrible happens than he realises he was waiting for that, focusing so much on what Wanda was doing just in case he had to fix it. He almost issues a compliment for this small success, but he's done enough of that for this morning.]

I want that one.

[He chooses to argue instead, for no reason but to dispel any tension that might be left.]

So don't burn it.

[Reaching over his shoulder with the spatula, Pietro gently taps it against the top of Wanda's head, not entirely oblivious to the fact he's getting bits of egg in her hair.]

Are you going to let go? You're crowding me.

[His hand is still on hers.]

I don't want to.

[ And that's very, very true. Wanda never wants to let go of Pietro. Letting go of him means being alone, and she's had enough of that during their time with HYDRA to last many, many lifetimes.

But she scrunches her nose and reluctantly pulls away, brushing her fingers through her hair and flicking the egg at him. ]

You got egg in my hair.

[ Rather than wander to the loaf of bread to get the other slice out, Wanda stands a little away from him so as not to crowd him and points her finger very much like Sabrina Spellman at the bread. She furrows her brows in concentration as she easily pulls the slice away from the loaf and floats it more confidently through the air. She drops it on the counter beside the toaster.

When it dings, she doesn't move to grab a plate. She does as she had done so before, feeling a burst of confidence because of Pietro's encouragement. She opens the cupboard, telekinetically gently pulls two plates out, and places them on the counter. His squashed bread with burnt tips follows with her placing it on the plate she's designated as his and she slots her slice of bread into the toaster and pushes down on the lever.

She smiles proudly at him. ]

I'm getting better at it. One day I could do all the chores from the couch while I watch television.

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