3| Diamond [Pietro M.]

12. Family Matters

I attempted not to pay attention to the many Wakandians going about their daily business around me as I absentmindedly stare out across the city. I know I'm surely a spectacle to the locals, standing by the floor to ceiling windows coated with a layer of ash along with the accompanying odor of smoke. I look sorely out of place here. Even as I stand, thinking of all the recent news in my life, I can feel their eyes lingering on my back and their scrutinization thick in the air. I can't blame them though. They have every right. This is their home and I'm a foreigner here, seeking refuge within their graces for the time being. Not to mention, as far as they know, the lot of us are criminals in the eyes of the world. Now we have to prove ourselves, our ideals, and what we truly stand for. However, I have this deep-rooted feeling we won't be here too long. It isn't often that my gut feelings are incorrect.

"Clint turned the hot water off." A growly, Sokovian accent rumbles behind me in distaste. A knowing smile erupts on my lips, my hand hovering over my chin as my eyes come back into focus on the city.

"How long were you just standing under the water after washing off, Pie?" My left brow lifts questioningly as I side-eye him from where he stands at my right, arms crossed defensively and hair still damp. "Besides, Clint didn't turn off the hot water." I correct, shifting my weight to my left leg as I tilt my torso in the speedster's direction to fully look at his face. His eyebrows pull together in question. "Clint had Natasha turn the hot water off." I grin snarkily at him.

"I wasn't even in there for that long." He grumbles, sounding defeated, without commenting on the devious duo and their antics.

"I assume Clint's taking his shower now?" I inquire, adopting a softer tone to diffuse his brooding.

"Yup." He releases a long exhale, closing his eyes momentarily as if to allow all the stress over the past few hours to escape. "I'd probably be hugging you right now if you weren't coated in ash and dust, just by the way." He informs me with upturned lips, not in a malicious way, but rather in a friendly teasing way. I scoff at him lightly.

"If you can't handle me at my worst, Maximoff, you don't deserve me at my best." I tell him, waving my hand at him in an almost dismissive manner, playfulness evident in my tone.

"Iris, I've seen you at your worst." The blonde tells me in a gentle tone as he reaches over and places his index finger under my chin so I look him in the eyes. I exhale and smile sadly at him. He's definitely seen me at my various stages of "worse". "It's when you haven't eaten breakfast yet." The softness of his eyes quickly dissipates and is replaced with amused teasing. I shake my head and gently shove him away from me.

"Punk." I grumble as he cackles beside me. This is why I love him. He can turn dreary circumstances into laughable ones in an attempt to shift the mood. That and obviously I can't leave my padawan hanging as his sarcasm training has only just begun. "Hey, do you hear that?" I whisper as he quiets down.

"What?" The male twin questions suspiciously.

"That dull sound of brooding accentuated by the United States national anthem and eagle screeching." I murmur and cast a look over my shoulder to see the lonely Human Torch.

"Oh, yes. Now that you mention it..." Pietro agrees as he turns to face the rugged looking Rogers. "Steve." Maximoff curtly acknowledges Cap with a small nod in his direction.

"Pietro, Iris." The ex-Captain America addresses the two of us, exhaustion thick in his voice.

"You look dead on your feet, dude. What's up?" I question as he stands at Pietro's shoulder, the two men sharing a look while I turn my attention away from them.