Filling In

𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑: insatiable

No one could have estimated how much Pietro would change over the course of three months. It was mind boggling, truly. It was like he never had enough. He was unstoppable at this point, and any hope of him returning to the Avengers as Quicksilver, were quickly fading. How could he run so fast being so big? Was it even possible? Most of the team didn't think so. Not at the rate he had been eating since Wanda last saw him at the picnic.

—
Three months from that picnic, and Pietro's appetite, and size, grew exponentially. The Sokovian was starting to eat anywhere upwards of 5-6 meals a day, with snacks in between. Truthfully, it was more like, snacks became the size of meals, and meals became the sizes of feasts, capable of feeding a decent sized get together. It seemed as if every minute of everyday now, Pietro was eating.

Not to mention, he still hadn't got back into running or exercising. The most "exercise" he did, was walking up and down the stairs when it was meal times. Even then, he was starting to get lazy. Pietro was sometimes able to convince Laura that he was still in a lot of pain from the accident, and she'd bring his food upstairs to him. Though, this didn't always work. Laura wasn't an idiot, she knew that Pietro needed to get some steps in, even if they were minimal.

Walking down the stairs for his feast of a dinner, Pietro's footsteps echoed heavily throughout the house. It was easy to tell whenever he was coming. Once he had reached the bottom of the stairs, Pietro stopped, leaning against the wall, and pulling out a snack from his pockets, quickly eating it. He needed enough energy if he wanted to make it to the kitchen for dinner. Once his snack was done, he lumbered his way to the table. With each step, his stomach bounced, as well as his puffy man boobs that filled the upper half of his too tight shirt. His stomach hung out of the bottom, unable to be contained anymore. Pietro already out grew his bigger clothes.

Finally sitting down, Pietro sighed, taking a moment to catch his breath. Whenever he sat down, his stomach pushed his legs apart, and spilled into his lap, practically filling it. The chair beneath him, was holding on for dear life, as a scream of creaks came from it. It wouldn't last much longer under him, that was for sure, especially the way he'd been eating as of late.

—
As dinner came to an end, and dessert was rolling around, Pietro consumed more food, and calories than everyone at the table, combined, double over. His eating habits were getting out of control. Pietro was eating as if he had the worlds fastest metabolism, and was constantly working out. But, he was not. The Sokovian speedster hadn't even touched his running shoes since before he was injured. Now, the only excuse he had, was laziness.

"Dinner was really fantastic, Laura."

Pietro said and smiled, handing her his empty plates. It was true, Laura's cooking was always top tier, Pietro never got tired of it. But his favorite, would always be her desserts. They were irresistible.

Laura smiled at the compliment, taking the dishes, setting them in the sink, before she's getting dessert ready for everyone. She was already prepared for Pietro's plethora of food, giving him his own tub of ice cream, while the Barton's would split one, and still have left overs. But not Pietro. The former runner would easily eat his own tub of ice cream, plus a copious amount of cookies or brownies, depending on what Laura was giving out that day. It varied often.

Once dessert was shelled out, Pietro happily dug in, wasting no time in enjoying his sugary confections. The process of eating was euphoric for him now. Something about the way the food hitting his taste buds for the first time, before sliding down his throat, sent a wave of pleasure  through his body. Pietro didn't care about the effects anymore. They didn't matter. The only thing that mattered to him, was when he could next eat.

—
Slowly pushing himself up from his seat after all his dessert was gone, Pietro stretched out his arms, his heavy stomach dropping down a bit more as the food he had just consumed settled in. His shirt was unable to contain his stomach, and came to rest just under his growing chest.

Just as he was headed for the stairs, Pietro was stopped by Clint. Eyebrow raising, Pietro turned to look at him. Safe to say he was confused.

"Yes..?" Pietro asked hesitantly, hands sliding into the pockets of his tightening sweat pants.

Clearing his throat before he spoke, Clint crossed his arms over his chest.

"They've been asking about you back at the compound." He started, nodding slowly. "Planning on joining us again any time soon?" He continued, brow raising in a similar fashion.

A melancholic sigh left the Sokovian's lips. It was hard. He wanted to go back, he did. They were a family. But a part of Pietro was still afraid. Still scared that he'd be subject to a shooting again, or worse. It was still too much for him at the moment. He really couldn't process it.

"You guys don't need me."

"What?"

"You don't need me." Pietro repeated, nodding. "What good is a runner, hm? All I can do, is run. That's it. It's of no use. My sister is the powerful one." Pietro shrugged, shaking his head.

It wasn't entirely wrong, yet, it wasn't all right either.

"Pietro, this is a team. Every member is vital. Including you." Clint said, sighing. "You don't have to come back yet, but eventually, you need to face your fears." He said, shaking his head and walking off.

—
That night, in his bedroom, Pietro sat up in bed, replaying the conversation, as he hastily snacked away. Eventually? Ha! He wouldn't be of use if he was fat... fatter.

Pietro didn't want to go back, and he would make sure everyone saw that. Besides, he was closing in on the high 300's now. His weight was getting serious, and so was he.

With a frustrated huff, Pietro's rolling over, and grabbing his other stash of snacks, eating away his feelings.