3| Diamond [Pietro M.]

07. Dirty Dancing

It wasn't long after Steve had excused himself that the rest of the group finished their dinner. Pietro and I are the last two to finish since we keep pausing to talk. It's the first time I've really had the nerve to speak with him. Most of its sarcasm and the two of us picking on Carter, but it was the two of us conversing. That's all that matters. 

However, the previous silence between us these last few days was totally my fault in the first place. Thankfully that seemed to be behind us now. Pietro just seems glad that I'm talking with him again. I find myself feeling the same way. "Iris, you'll feed Apollo dinner tonight. Wanda and Scott will harvest the crops today. Sam and Clint will feed the chickens and check for more eggs." Carter assigns us our evening chores. Usually, we rotate who does which chore while the same pairings stay the same. Our pairs are based off how efficient we are, according to Carter anyways. However, since Steve's still out, Pietro is left without a job and partner tonight.

I offer to take my boyfriend's dinner plate from him as I stand. The speedster smiles before handing the dish to me. I take the plates to the sink before striding over to the back door. My hand hovers over the handle before I turn on my heel. "Hey, Sonic, wanna come help me out tonight? I'm sure Apollo won't mind." I lift a questioning brow at him. His eyes grow wide as he looks to Wanda for a moment, I'm sure silently questioning her about our talk this afternoon. His sister just grins at him and waves him off. 

The older twin stands up and walks over to me. I smile at him once he reaches arm's length of me before I pull open the door. I'm thankful he held himself back from speeding to my position. Even though thinking about my own powers don't trigger a panic attack anymore, seeing the other's enhancements still sets me on edge. I suppose it's due to the many bad memories combined with the fact that I may lose my capacity to manipulate energy. I feel like he senses it...my unnerved state when faced with fantastic gifts I once had control of and am now losing touch with. 

Pietro shuts the door behind us before joining my side as we travel down the gravel trail. I smile sideways at him and he mirrors me. We walk quietly, with the only the sound in the air being that of our boots crunching against the small stones. It's not an awkward or odd silence in which one of us feels like we need to say anything. We're both just content being in each other's presence. 

Only a few more moments pass before the two of us come upon the towering, flaky red barn. The birds have long since retired from serenading the Earth as I slide the barn door wide open. The door creaks on its hinges while sunlight pours into the barn, illuminating the dirt drifting in the air like transparent clouds. The air smells like hay and fresh earth. I suck in a long, deep breath. It smells like safety to me.

I reach over and pat my partner's shoulder before brushing past him in my quest to retrieve Apollo's dinner. Speaking of the devil, his head hangs over his stall door while his nostrils flutter. The Friesian releases a hearty knicker as I pass him. I can hear the speedster's footsteps carry him towards the equine while I make a b-line to the feed room. 

I slide the door open before stepping inside. A new smell originates from this point. It's the rich smell of horse feed, alfalfa, and fresh hay. I pause a moment in the threshold to admire the photos of Carter and Alissa standing with various horses they've owned together at younger ages. I faintly smile as I begin to wonder what the future may hold for me and if it will include a certain sarcastic speedster or not. After all, people can change just like the seasons. 

My smile drops and I move further into the feed room to prepare the large equine's dinner. I move swiftly with refined actions, smoother than some of my other motor skills. I'm quick to put the thought out of my mind. There is no way for me to change the past. Therefore there is no reason to dwell on it. So I don't. I keep moving. I keep working. I begin to realize why people with PTSD or other severe trauma lock on an activity and work themselves into a grave -- because it takes their mind off the pain. It gives them a means to escape facing other difficulties.