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The twins liked the roof of Stark Tower.

It had been six months since the events in Sokovia, since Ultron, and if they hadn't exactly been welcomed with open arms, they'd managed to carve out a space for themselves. They trained with the others, learning to harness their powers for the right side this time, and Tony Stark had given them permission to live on-site. It wasn't the same, but it would do.

Pietro was still moving at half-speed, his injuries having taken enough of a toll that he'd been confined to a bed for two months. Blood loss, mostly, though one of the bullets had nicked his large intestine and they'd been worried about infection. Wanda had stayed by his bedside for most of it, a pale sentinel as her brother convalesced. Finally fully realizing her terror of losing him.

"I love this view."

He said it as they finally reached the top of the building, because he was impatient to be back at full strength. It was November, and the cold had set in. The tower was always noisy, never entirely quiet, but it was two in the morning and he'd talked her into her joining him for some fresh air. She made a noise as she looked out over the city. There were still some cars moving around, the lights of the closed shops twinkling far below, but they were high up enough that the stars were visible above the light pollution.

"I hope the climb didn't wear you out. I'm not sure I'd be able to carry you downstairs."

Pietro chuffed out an amused noise, but the truth was he felt fine. They'd been taking excellent care of him, and he was ready to be back at a hundred percent. He moved closer to the roof's barrier, leaned against it as the cool wind ruffled his hair. When he held out his hand, Wanda took it reluctantly. She was looking out over the grounds instead of at him, and he let the silence hold for as long as he could stand it.

"Wanda?" No answer. Her rings pressed into his fingers when his grasp shifted.

"Sister?" Softer now, and she gave him a baleful look.

"You idiot."

Her small fist struck his shoulder, glancing off harmlessly, and she hit him again, harder. Pietro bowed his head in abject acceptance of his twin's anger. Truthfully, he was glad to have her hit him, because she'd barely touched him at all during his long convalescence except when they were alone. Which wasn't often enough. Wanda punched his shoulder four, five, six times, little grunts escaping from her mouth. She was small and slight while he was tall and sturdy, but there was no hint that she meant to really hurt him. Because she could have, blown him off of the roof with a flick of her fingers.

"I'm sor..."

"Shut up. Idiot."

She stopped hitting him, glowering sullenly at the ground. She'd alternated between blood-boiling fury and bone-shaking relief for weeks, sitting by his bed while he slept and making sure he ate, then helping him walk to the bathroom once they'd removed the tubes and the IV drip. Smelling his unwashed hair when she kissed his cheek good night, just a peck before she returned to her own room to sleep alone. She'd never realized how terrified she'd been that he would die and leave her alone until he almost did die and leave her alone.

She was also still holding his hand, or letting him hold hers, and they were both conscious of that too. The night was chilly and mostly quiet around them, only a few sounds reaching them from the city. At that hour, they could have been the only people around for miles. Pietro used his free hand to tip her chin upwards so he could meet her eyes.

"I said I wasn't going to leave you. You're the one who said I should help get the people on those rescue ships. But I wouldn't...go. Not forever. Not away from you."

Wanda's unoccupied hand circled her brother's wrist. She hadtold him to assist with the evacuation, and that had only added to the hurt of it, that he might have been killed because of something she said. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingers, and his eyes were as clear and blue as ever. She let out a watery sound as he cupped her cheek, his large hand warm against her skin.


"Yes. Yes, I am an idiot."

He ducked down to kiss her cheek, and she turned her head at the last second so that he got her mouth instead. He made a surprised noise, then a pleased one when she let go of his wrist and put her hand on his shoulder. None of the others had dared to ask the question, why she'd installed herself in his room unless she was on a mission, sitting silent and large-eyed while the medical staff attended to his wounds and checked his stitches and said they'd strap him to the bed if he didn't get as much rest as possible. She was his sister, after all, his twin, and they were bonded by blood and genes. Neither of them were stupid, and Wanda suspected that Natasha knew something deeper was involved, but as long as no one asked the question, they didn't have to tell the truth or make up a lie.

"I would have died with you, you know. Or worse, lived through it but been hollow."

She was touching his chest through his thin shirt, feeling the new scars beneath the fabric. She hadn't seen them yet, had kept herself from really surveying the damage. Pietro shook his head, and Wanda tucked herself in tighter against him.

"You would have gotten through it. You've always been stronger than I am. A survivor."

He couldn't remember when they'd stopped trying to stop, looked at one another and realized that the accident of birth that made this wrong only tied them more tightly to each other. That it might not have been an accident after all, just part of the plan to make sure they didn't pass each other by. Who's plan was the question, but perhaps it didn't matter.

"I wouldn't have wanted to."

His hand wandered up the center of her narrow back, and when she looked up his mouth was right there. The kiss was warm and wet even as the temperature around them dropped. His beard stubble grazed her jaw, her cheek, and her fingers tightened down on the cloth of his shirt.

"I love you, my darling."

"Always. Even in death."

They found a more isolated spot, out of sight of the door leading to the roof. Pietro was managing showers by himself now, but what he really wanted was a bath. Maybe with Wanda in the tub with him. She tugged down the neck of his shirt, but the light was too poor to see the scars clearly. But they were clear and sharply-defined under her mouth, and when her brother sucked in a breath at the feeling of her lips on his chest she smiled against the healed injuries.

"This won't hurt you?"

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

He lifted her with only a slight hesitation, trapped his erection between their bodies. His hands slid along her thighs, over the fabric of her leggings, and when he wedged one between her legs she was already damp. Wanda's eyes flashed red at the familiar touch, and she ground against him for more friction. He braced his left hand against the wall over her shoulder. Her hips worked in a slow, torturous circle, in time with his hand, and he mouthed her neck. With only the air separating them, it was hard to tell where he ended and she started.

Her fingers were restless in his hair, his mouth on her throat both too much and not enough, and the press of his teeth made her let out a squeak. It was too cold for them to fully strip, but she had his shirt half off and he was working at her leggings, trying to pull them down. He had to let go of her to do it, and she shivered at the loss of his body heat, but when he worked her free of them and gathered her back into his arms, her bare legs instantly stopped being a concern. The sound of his belt unfastening was the loudest, sweetest noise ever.

"I love you. Forever."

Pietro eased into her, and the tight wetness made his balls ache. Wanda grabbed his shoulders with both hands, a death grip that rivaled the clench of her thighs, and they both knew they couldn't be leisurely about it. He was still technically in recovery, not yet given a clean bill of health. But she'd missed him, missed this, and she could let him sleep in her room if he wanted.

He watched her face as he started to move, a slow deep pounding that bottomed him out as she pumped back against him. Their mutated biology made it unlikely that they'd reproduce, but they were usually more careful about it. No matter. They'd both been fools to think that conventional morality would be enough to pull them apart, and he'd meant what he said. He'd love her when he was in the grave, and she would never, could never, hurt him with the things she was capable of.

Wanda clutched the base of her brother's spine as he hammered her, and her inner muscles were already tightening. Next time she would insist on a bed. And more foreplay. But after such a long drought, the bordering on rough coupling was more than good enough. When he found her clit with his fingers, she bit the side of his neck to muffle the yelp of delight.

That finished him off, the feral response, and he let out a muffled curse as he spilled into her. His thighs had gotten cold , but he rested between her legs for just a minute longer, kissing a path from her collarbone to her mouth. Her hands had gone from grasping to caressing, tiny shivers still rippling through her.


She said into his mouth between kisses, her breath enough to fill his lungs for the rest of his life. Her hair was a mess, eyes only half-focused. Pietro smiled as his softening cock started to slip out of her.


Wanda knew she was going to have to clean herself up before bed. Even in the chill, her sweat had mixed with his and she had his smell all over her. Not exactly conducive to a restful sleep. He put her down carefully, and she played with her hair while he pulled up his jeans, rebuckled his belt. When he handed her the pair of leggings, she grasped his wrist instead of the bundle of cloth.

"If you ever do anything like that again, I really will hurt you. I don't care what I tell you to do."

He laughed a little, but his expression was serious when he replied, "I know. It won't happen again. I'm sorry I frightened you."

She put her arms around him, held him against her chastely. If he was an idiot or not, he was her idiot. The only person she didn't want to know if she could live without. Wanda let Pietro go, stretched her arms over her head.

"You want to stay in my room tonight? It might be more comfortable than the medical quarters, and I can have breakfast sent up."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it might help me sleep better. That and a shower."

Pietro opened the door for Wanda, held it while she passed by on his right, and he looked at the view once more before letting it shut behind him. They would wash up and then sleep, and he would help her eat the huge breakfast she asked for. And then, if she was truly through with being angry at him, he would make the slowest, sweetest love to her. Because he was hers. For as long as she would have him.