explosion | OPEN POST.

[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.

Did I?

[There are no forthcoming apologies for the egg, even as she retaliates. Once Wanda moves away to give him more room, Pietro attempts to pay more attention to finishing breakfast, but glances over every few seconds to keep an eye on things, especially once the plates are out of the cupboard, and he's ready to rush over there and catch them should Wanda drop them. She doesn't even fumble, and when she looks so pleased about it, Pietro smiles back awkwardly like he's trying not to but can't help it.]

Don't get ahead of yourself. You got lucky. Tomorrow, you will be breaking dishes all over the floor.

[He waves her off, though he does like hearing her have some kind of ambition, even if it's simply to use her powers for domestic and mundane things. He's well aware it's the kind of life she wants, but he has a hard time considering it an actual possible future, despite having participated in some less-than-ideal form of it for years. His thoughts are just never there, as if their lives are still in some temporary flux and Pietro keeps waiting for something else. Turning off the stove, he takes little care with distributing his cooking to plates she'd set out - it leaves much to be desired, just an entire carton's worth of eggs, the yolks runny in places, fully cooked through in others, and liberally 'sprinkled' with far too much black pepper and turmeric. Wanda gets two of them slid onto her plate, looking sad and barren in comparison when Pietro piles the rest on top of the misshapen toast for himself.]

[ When her toast pops up, she doesn't move to go and retrieve it from the toaster. With a pointed finger, she drops it onto her plate, smiling widely at how seamless that felt. It'd been a touch wobbly, but it hadn't fallen to the floor this time.

Cocking her brow at his plate, she moves to grab it. ] This one is clearly mine.

[ But she tries to steal both of the plates to take to the table, not wanting Pietro to have to burden himself with such a mundane task after the took the time to cook them an assortment of eggs. She's grateful that he's given her at least one runny one—she much prefers to dip her toast into it and frustrate him than to eat the entire egg. ]

Hurry up before I drop your dish all over the floor.

[ Because she wants the chairs pulled out, they pull out themselves. ]

If that's yours, you have to eat it all. After I made it for you, it's only polite.

[Pietro rolls his eyes as she walks away, and makes a show of trailing behind, though it annoys him to do so. Grabbing his chair firmly, he leaves that sluggish display behind to sit quickly, half expecting Wanda to pull it out from under him with one twitch of a finger. He slides her plate towards him, she'd chosen the one she wanted, hadn't she?]

Oh, no.

[ She shakes her head as she chuckles. She cannot eat all of this. There are too many eggs! And there's so much to eat… She pushes his plate toward him and eyes hers, wondering if she can inconspicuously steal it. ]

This is yours. You slaved away over the stove—and it is your birthday. I insist you have it.

[ It's only polite, of course—and that's what Wanda is: polite. She pushes the plate toward him, smiling sweetly. ]

Well, if you insist.

[He'll take that plate back, and for a moment act like he's going to eat that and Wanda's meal too, keeping her plate close to his his and hunching over a bit. Completely ignoring her, he cuts off a large piece of overcooked egg and toast with his fork. Then he looks up, and pushes her plate back towards her like he's offering her scraps as an afterthought, though it's offset by his his foot running up her leg under the table.]

I can part with that much. You should eat something.

[ She scrunches up her nose and makes a face at him as he claims her plate. Grateful that she doesn't have to steal it from right out beneath his nose, she tugs it closer to her in case he has any ideas. He has long arms and he's quick, but she thinks she can defeat him when needed. ]

I eat.

[ Not as much as him, granted. His stomach is a bottomless pit, something she thinks the sceptre had taken into account before he had become faster than a bullet.

She picks up her knife and fork and slices into her egg to make the yolk spill. Tearing into her toast, she dips it and smiles happily. ]

I could eat you beneath the table, but I don't to spare your feelings. I'm quite nice.

[ She considers closing her legs, but Wanda parts them and extends her leg to try and touch his other one. If she responds, he'll win this game—and Wanda doesn't want him to win this particular one. ]

[He snorts, trying to imagine Wanda even attempting to eat the amount of food he does in a day.]

You never did like to show off.

[Not nearly as much as Pietro does, not in the same way, Wanda's theatrics of a far less boisterous and self-important nature. She's issuing some kind of challenge with that drag of her foot over his calf, and he doesn't react for more than a split-second, one small twitch, then continuing on with what he'd started, determined to make her break first.]

There's no room for me to when you show off all the time.

[ She smiles at him, not dropping her gaze to beneath the table. It's no secret that Wanda likes to hide behind Pietro. He's twelve minutes older and taller, and he'd been who she had hid behind when Stark's bomb kept beeping when her television had finally lost power. It's safe in his shadow, but it's also safe being in the wide open in front of him.

When he doesn't react to her foot, she applies a little more pressure as she slides her toes up his lower leg and presses her foot against his knee. Wanda eats her toast, pretending that she's not trying to make him fidget in his seat. ]

[Pietro curls his toes and presses his foot harder against the floor, trying to keep his leg still when Wanda hits one spot at his knee - it's barely any pressure, but it makes him want to jerk his leg back in reflex. He slides his way further up her leg too in retaliation, only reaching higher has his knee hitting the table from the underside. The soft thudding noise goes ignored as Pietro pretends they're doing nothing here but eating.]

Why do you do that? It's disgusting.

[He waves his hand disapprovingly at Wanda dipping her toast in the egg yolk. He's been eating pieces of toast with egg together and it's exactly the same thing, but there's no acknowledgement of it. Starting any sort of argument or complaint is just a distraction for himself.]

[ Wanda smiles and withholds her amused snort. Two can play at this game of pretend, perhaps her better than him considering all the play pretend she has under her belt. ]

Because you don't like it.

[ And she makes it a point to push her next small piece of toast into the egg yolk and eat it with a wide smile. If it's so disgusting, why does it taste so good and why are you eating it the same way? ]

Mm. Deliciously disgusting.

[ Wanda wishes to see him hit his knee again. She pushes her foot past his knee and along his upper thigh, applying some more pressure. Just in case he can't feel it. ]

You are a child.

[He sighs in exasperation after she's admitted she does it solely because she thinks it annoys him, and he admonishes her with that as if he isn't equally as juvenile when it comes to their pointless sniping. Pietro shifts in his chair when her foot reaches his thigh, bringing his other leg back to trap hers between his.]

If you keep this up, you know we're not getting to the park.

[He started it.]

[ You started it, bro.

But Wanda doesn't say as much, fearing that if she does, he'll clam shut and not let her have her fun without an audience. It's so much more fun to tease him when Olga and Alina and all of his friends aren't around. Less time for her to grow quietly sulky and flustered. ]

We will go later.

[ Wanda doesn't look away from him, allowing herself to smile slowly. She wiggles her foot between his, wanting to push further up his thigh to her desired destination. ]

We have all day, Pietro. It is only morning.

[He slides lower in his chair, bringing her foot all that closer, letting go of any subtlety. Though he keeps up a modicum of pretense, not breaking eye contact either and pushing bits of egg around on his plate as if enjoying a leisurely breakfast.]

The park is better in the afternoon.

[Pietro makes it sound like a begrudging concession, but he'd rather stay home too. At least for a while.]

[ She merely hums her agreement.

She rips her toast again and dips what she can into her yolk while watching him. He moves and her foot slides further up his thigh, and Wanda can easily read between the lines of his words without having to skim the surface of his mind.

She extends her foot until her toes brush against his crotch. She doesn't pull back, but keeps the pressure there, wondering if Pietro will shift back or snap or decide that while the park is best enjoyed in the afternoon, errands can be done in the morning. ]

[His thigh twitches and he squirms slightly, but he doesn't pull away from her foot or slide ahead any further. The only other sign of it getting to him is how tightly he clutches his fork and the fact that he's stopped moving it.]

There are things to be done here this morning...

[Not really, and if there were, Pietro could clean the entire apartment in two minutes. The "we have chores to do" ploy is completely nonsensical for him to use. His gaze drifts over to the sun-catcher.]

And you need to find somewhere to hang that before it gets broken. I think maybe the bedroom.

[ he's so still. ]

In a minute. I'm not finished yet.

[ wanda doesn't glance at the sun catcher, keeping her gaze focused on him. she has half a mind to withdraw her foot now and ensure that the sun catcher is safely tucked away, but she knows nothing will harm it. even if it was to fall, her sheer willpower will keep it in one piece.

besides, she's still eating—and wanda wants to ensure she eats the breakfast he had been so kind enough to cook on their shared birthday. she ensures to make a show of taking her time dipping her toast in what's left of the yolk and eats it, pushing her toes more firmly against his crotch. ]

[Pietro manages to deal with it for all of fifteen seconds before giving in and pressing back against her foot. He'd started this and he would like to finish it.]

Oh, come on. It can't take you an hour to eat a piece of toast.

[He taps his thumb rapidly against the table and sighs restlessly like they really have been sitting here for an hour and not under ten minutes.]

Do you want me to try?

[ Wanda doesn't hold back her chuckle, although she's not quite sure if it's in amusement from his spoken exasperation or the fact that he's finally given in and pushed back against her foot. She applies pressure, careful not to hurt him, and continues to eat her toast until she purposefully leaves the crusts and the egg on her plate. Although it's tempting to spend an hour eating her breakfast, she knows Pietro won't sit for that long—and she doesn't wish to waste this day like that.

She sighs long and loud. ]

I think we should find somewhere to hang the sun catcher now.

[ She emphasises that with a press of her foot. ]

[He can't help himself from continuing to moving his hips just a little, rubbing against the pressure of her foot while Wanda finishes all she's going to eat of her breakfast.]

Yes.

[Pietro's agreement is immediate and too-loud the moment she's done speaking and her foot pokes harder against him. Despite how good that feels, he moves in a hurry - pulling out his chair, leaning over the table to grab the crusts of Wanda's toast, gathering the leftover egg between them, and shoving it all in his mouth at once. He snatches the sun-catcher too, only to toss is casually back at Wanda from half-way across the room as he heads for the bedroom. It's fine, he's prepared to run back and catch it himself if she misses, but he has to keep her on her toes.]

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