Where the Heart Is

The Arrival

So the quinjet was kind of badass.

Pietro wanted to take a closer look at the controls and the various switches and toggles but every time his fingers twitched toward them, Natasha gave him a death glare. It wasn't like he was going to touch anything since he didn't exactly want to drop out of the sky in a freefall after narrowly escaping death just a couple weeks ago.

He would save that for next month.

Still, he was standing around up front, taking in what Natasha was doing. They were on the descent, and Natasha had said they would be touching down in a few minutes.

Out of the cockpit window, he could see green fields and copses of trees for miles, along with a few small towns dotting the landscape. Very rural. Very different from where he had grown up. He and Wanda had lived in the same city their whole lives, so this whole countryside adventure was a little outside his league.

Besides, he wasn't sure how to feel about Clint opening his home to them. He was grateful, they both were, but he didn't like accepting charity. Or imposing on people. But it wasn't like it was a permanent kind of thing, so he guessed it would be all right, and it wasn't like they were bums. He was just having a hard time imaging himself getting up at the butt crack of dawn to milk some cows and gather eggs and generally play at being a farm boy.

But, on the other hand, it could be hilarious to see Wanda pitchforking things and raising barns and square-dancing.

"It would not," Wanda said, overhearing his thoughts or at least getting some of the images from him. The twin link of theirs was often an advantage but at other times, it was a nuisance. Still, he had learned to use it to his advantage.

He grinned over at her and imagined her churning butter in one of those old frumpy western dresses until she retaliated with a mental image of him running away from a man-eating tractor. He rolled his eyes at her. So dramatic.

"Okay, you two," Natasha said, "Before we land, I have one last thing to say." She turned to look at them, making sure they were both paying attention before continuing. "This family is important to me. And they're my...people. Understand?"

Pietro had a feeling that what she was really saying was something along the lines of 'hurt them and I will flay you both alive with a tiny rusty razor and then spread the pieces across the globe.' But she didn't say that, so maybe she trusted them, at least a little bit? He nodded. "Yeah, got it."

"It's understood," Wanda said. She bit her lip. "But you're certain that they don't feel like they have to let us stay? We don't want to be a bother to them."

"If you were, they wouldn't have suggested it," Natasha said, smirking a little, "They know what they're signing up for."

A couple minutes later, the quinjet was setting down in a field of tall grass, not far from a two-story farm house that must belong to the Bartons. Pietro grabbed his backpack and Wanda's, one for each shoulder, and stepped down the ramp.

So much free space.

"This is—"

But he didn't hear what else Natasha had to say because he had already taken off. The world didn't blur around him or anything, to him it stood still, but to everyone else, he would appear as a nearly invisible streak.

He raced forward, darting around an old piece of farm equipment filled with flowers, and set the backpacks down on the porch before turning and giving Natasha and Wanda a cheeky wave. Taking off through the lawn, he dashed past a garden and along a fence line.

Pausing by a fence post about a half mile from the farm house, he looked around. Fields and cows and maybe a river in the distance. He could only smell earth and fresh cut grass and growing things. Nothing like home. Not that he was complaining, it was just really different.