𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 ━━━ ❪...

WARNING: very mild
descriptions of violence and blood

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TWENTY-ONE
𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩
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SILKY CLOTH SWEPT across the ballroom as partners with their dates, sliding along the crystal floor, the scuffle of heels clicked as the chandelier gave the room, that was dark, light - adding to the amorous mood in the air. The pair walked into the building, at the hip, ready to do what they came to.

"I have to say, I'm glad we did this," Stephen Strange whispered in her ear, "I've been meaning to take you out on a real date."

"Not a date," Wanda Maximoff's arm was linked into his, "The plan is to look like we're dating. We're just..." She didn't even know what they were, the weeks had been filled with endless cheeky banter and playful attacks.

"Friends?" Stephen sighed, he let his hand drift to her waist, his fingers gripped her curves tightly, "I'm afraid friends don't buy seductive dresses to impress each other."

"You act as if you aren't wearing a suit," Wanda reached out a hand to trace the edge of his collar, her fingers adjusting the hem gently.

He chuckled softly, a deep-chested laugh she could barely hear, "I didn't say I bought it, but thank you for taking the time to appreciate how good I look." Her green eyes skated his her body, still proud to say she wasn't disappointed but reptant as he caught her eyes.

She didn't mind his company, the smell of his perfume, the somewhat commodious musky scent drifting into her nose - excusing the fact that she could have known without asking, she just knew that he had gone out of his way to use spend some expense on tonight. The suit was tight fitting, a slick fabric in a pure white colour, tied together with a silky bow around his neck.

Wanda huffed, she rolled her eyes, "Thank you," she accepted the jacket ticket at the entrance, turning in the one they already had.

As soon as they were past the reception, they stood at the top of a large staircase, staring down at the crowd below. Classical music played at a high volume, people danced on the floor. It was an event for the high class, all the guest were soaking in elegance and wealth.

"Can you see them?" Wanda eyed the crowd on the dance floor, trying to spot their target, "I can't see them."

"Relax, Maximoff," Stephen told her as they walked past, "They probably haven't even arrived. Besides, the only place to spot a person on the dance floor...is by dancing."

"Oh, no, no," Her eyebrows curved into a frown, she shook her head in refusal, "You promised me this wouldn't happen."

"People make promises they can't keep," He said, offering her his palm, she stood - reluctant, stuck on what to do.

It descended into an awkward silence after that statement, neither of them wanting to address it, how it held more meaning than it was supposed to. They'd come too far to go back into the cycle of arguing, exceeding the fact they were acting like lovers.

Nevertheless, she took his hand anyway, gripping it tightly as he dragged her into the forest of dancers. They joined their rhythmic procession of the waltz, hips pressed together in a different way, one that made them feel united.

She twisted her head slightly, knocking a strand of red hair, a piece that had fallen out of her decorative bun. It was a style he'd watched her work hours on in the mirror, twisting and curling her hair into shape.

She'd worked on the whole look, face painted, lips red to match the dress she was wearing; one that hung tight to her curves, the neckline slightly plunging.

Though standing in the sea of the upper-class citizens of Switzerland, he could tell she felt underdressed in all the opulence. His guess was clarified when she mumbled again his skin, "I don't think I deserve to be here..."

"Oh, stop it," Stephen twirled her around, her back was now against him, he lowered his head to whisper into her ear, "You're the most gorgeous woman here."

She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest as he spun her around again, facing him again, there was a short moment where they were staring into each other's eyes.

It was a moment where they didn't have to say any words to know that the feelings they had were mutual. It felt like it was only them, dancing under the glow of the chandelier, falling into each other's arms. It was perfect. Stephen took the leap again, he wanted to lean in...

BANG! The sound of a gun sent people running and screaming, three more loud shots followed. Wanda and Stephen separated, his hands crossed before separating, red circles formed around his palms. His clothes were now new ones, his Sorcerer tunic, the eye of Agamotto sitting around his neck, deep red cape rolling to the floor.

They'd gotten distracted, the arsonist team had managed to hijack themselves into the event, men with fearsome assault weapons stood in different positions across the room.

Wanda's hands sparked, she sent a row of armed mercenaries to the floor with a wave. They heard one of the people behind them sending a message to the others, "Stay alert. We have enhanced."

The sorcerer grabbed the witch's hands, pulling her upwards to the upper balcony. She landed on her feet, steadying herself after the flight. "I've got this, you should wrap it up in here."

"No," Stephen extended his arm, drawing back one of his arms to send flickers ahead before turning back, "You stay safe, I'll deal with the nuke."

"Don't..." Wanda kicked the person in front her, flinging them off the edge of the stairs, "Don't be stupid, Strange. I've got the ability to handle-"

"But you don't have the training," He watched her give in with an irritated sigh, "I'm the boss, we don't have time to argue about this."

"Steph-" Wanda reached out an arm to stop him.

"It's okay, it'll be fine," Stephen assured her before he ran into the hallway, pressing the floor with a glow, splitting it in half, an illusion of the Mirror Dimension for those in front of him so he could make his way to the other side of the building. 

Wanda had to trust that he'd be okay, while she was swatting and batting enemies out the way. Reddish blasts sent them tumbling into different directions, her hair had since fell out of its style, falling along her back in ginger locks.

She was getting worried, minutes were turning into hours. He should be back already. Wanda discarded the final foe, pushing them out of the window.

"Stephen!" Wanda ran along the staircase, she heard clatters as she ran down, "Stephen?"

He stood ahead of her, a pleased smile on his face as he held the fuse in his hands, "Did you think I wouldn't come back?"

"I was getting worried..." Wanda sighed in relief, "You were gone for so long, I was staring to think something happened to you- Strange!"

BANG! The sound of another gunshot rang through her ears before she could process what had happened. He was clutching his side, the wound of a gun shot bleeding out from his chest. 

Wanda pushed down the adversary ahead and he spun onto the floor. She ran to him, crouching down, "Stephen! Are you okay? Just keep your eyes open..."

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"WHY COULDN'T YOU just listen to me?" He was carrying them over his shoulder, they were heavy and lucky they were still alive after what they went through.

The boy's hair was brown, gone through the cycle of being changed to hide his identity. Stripes of silver creeped through his roots, the unnatural strands had started to grow back.

He was thrown down onto the bed, he gripped the bleeding at his hip with a groan, "Geez. I would've if I knew they were going to pull out a knife like that."

"You need to be more careful," He scolded him, tugging at his shirt, "Let me see the wound."

"Will you be gentle?" Pietro had a smirk on his face, it got even bigger as he noticed Steve's cheeks go red.

"Just...just shut up," Steve pulled his shirt up, forcefully, "This might hurt..." He warned him before he covered his mouth with a cloth, he already had a hot iron.

"Fuck..." Pietro cried, he stopped himself from clutching at his waist.

"Are you okay?" Steve looked down at him worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah," He took a deep breath, "Thank you. Don't worry, I'll survive. I'm pretty strong."

"I know," Steve's subconscious stopped himself from looking at his muscles, "But you're also pretty stupid. You could have got yourself killed."

"No," Pietro shook his head, "You wouldn't have let that happen." Steve's eyes were caught into his, only now did they both realise they had the same striking blue colour. Though, they were close enough for Pietro to see the green in the blue in their eyes.

"Um," Steve cleared his throat, "You can't go around speeding like that. You're gonna get yourself shot."

"Oh please," Pietro sat up with a groan, "I've survived worse." He could tell Steve looked curious, so he continued, "When Wanda and I were on the streets...in Sokovia. After we were too old for the orphanage, we were thrown out onto the streets. We had no money, no source of income...no one wanted us. I didn't eat, I made sure Wanda was okay because that's what I'd always done. We could barely survive with the scraps. I became really sick, I almost died. You could see my bones through my skin, my stomach was turning purple...I was dying."

"Jesus Christ," Steve muttered. Pietro smiled at how much Steve seemed to feel for him. All this care he was giving him - breaking him out of prison, hiding him from the government, risking his life for him on missions they didn't even need to do.

"It was all okay in the end," Pietro smiled, "Strucker was the one who took us in. Remember, the one you-" He didn't know why Pietro was so willing to pour his heart out like this to him and be okay with telling him things like that...

"I'm really sorry," Steve interrupted him, "For everything. All this time I've been hurting you. I know you told me that you had feelings for me..."

Pietro felt a stab in the chest, his heart sank, it had been a while since he remembered what had happened between them. Nothing.

"And, I honestly don't know how you could with all I've done to you," Steve stood up, he walked by the desk. It was small, only stacked with condiments to make tea or coffee with the kettle on top of it. "Even after Strucker, I was an asshole to you in the Facility."

"Yeah, I really didn't enjoy your shitty early morning training regimes, Captain. But, besides from that you've kinda grown on me."

"Hmm. You're alright too from time to time," Steve handed him a mug full of tea. "Now, drink up and go to bed, kid."

"Wow," Pietro rolled his eyes, "You always know how to ruin a moment. Unless, you want...to join me?"

Steve shook his head, "No, I think Sam would kill me if I took the bed from him. You know he called dibs on the bed, I'll be fine on the floor."

Pietro despised his obliviousness to what he meant. "God, that stupid pigeon ruins everything," He muttered as he tucked himself in later next to a snoring Falcon.