Run to You|Pietro Maximoff

Chapter Eleven

Ira awoke to a loud crash coming from the kitchen, and the smoke alarm going off. She rushed out of bed, and ran to see what happened. In the kitchen, she found Tony, wearing a smoldering pair of oven mitts, desperately trying to put out the flaming oven, while a blackened stack of pancakes sat on the counter.

Ira quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink, and put out the fire. "Tony, what happened?!" She asked, turning to face him. He rubbed his arm, and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I wanted to surprise the team with breakfast, but I forgot the pancakes were in the oven, and..." he gestured around with his hands. "You know the rest."

"It's the thought that counts," Ira consoled, as she walked over and opened up a window, allowing the smoke to clear out. "FRIDAY, turn on the air conditioning in the kitchen and living room," Ira instructed, and a rush of air swept into the room, clearing most of the smoke out.

By then, the rest of the team had come to the kitchen. "What happened?" Natasha asked him.

"I started a fire," Tony mumbled.

"What?"

"I started a fire." Tony said louder. He sighed. "I was trying to make pancakes for everyone, but I started the oven on fire." He sadly dumped the stack of pancakes into the trash.

"You were trying to make us pancakes?" Steve asked incredulously.

Tony nodded. "It's okay." Wanda told him. "It took Vis weeks to master the oven," she said, placing her hand on his arm. Vision looked at her, betrayed.

"No it's not!" Clint yelled. Everyone turned to him. "Now there are no pancakes!"

Natasha hit him upside the head. "Stop thinking with your stomach." Clint rubbed his hand, and frowned.

"We can help make more," Wanda said brightly.

"Thanks," Tony said. They started gathering ingredients and creating a batter.

Ira looked around. "Hey, where's Pietro?" She asked.

Wanda snorted. "My brother can sleep like the dead. He once slept through a tornado." Clint laughed, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

Ira walked to his room, and opened the door. Inside, Pietro dozed peacefully on the bed. She walked over and poked his arm. "Pietro," she whispered, then, "Pietro," louder. He didn't even stir. She lightly slapped his arm, and he still didn't wake up. "Pietro," She said, near shouting. He rolled over, and continued sleeping. "Wake up!" She shouted, and he still didn't move.

"Oh my gosh." Ira rolled her eyes, and leaned forward. She placed her lips against his, and felt him move beneath her. She pulled back. "Alright, get up." Pietro smirked, and sat up.

"Did I have you fooled, dragoste?" He asked, crossing his arms behind his head.

"I hate you."

Ira left Pietro to get dressed, and went to the kitchen to find Tony proudly holding a stack of perfect, golden, pancakes. Wanda stood, smiling, behind him, holding a spatula. "Pancake?" Tony asked.

Ira smiled, and grabbed a plate and a pancake. She sat down at the table, where Steve, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Rhodey, and Vision were already eating. Ira began eating, and looked over at Clint beside her. He munched loudly on a pancake, syrup dripping down his face.

"How many did you eat?" She asked him. He mumbled something incoherent.

"He ate ten." Natasha translated.

Ira rolled her eyes. She finished eating, and by then, a Pietro had come out and started eating. Ira looked, exasperatedly between Pietro and Clint. "You two eat exactly the same." They both looked at her.

"No we don't," They said in unison with their mouths full. Ira smiled in annoyance, and put her plate away. She went to her room, and changed into workout clothes. The team had no new missions, so she figured she could spend the day training.

Ira walked to the training room, and found Natasha there. At first, Ira thought that she was training, but as she watched further, it appeared that she was... dancing. Ira tilted her head, curiously, as Natasha danced ballet, gracefully arching her body as she glided across the room.

Her red hair swirled around her, like a plume of ruby fire. She spun around and raised her leg in the air, ending with a graceful plié. "I didn't know you could dance," Ira said as she walked into the room.

Natasha turned towards her, surprised, but smiled wistfully. "Not many people do." She sat down on the matted floor, and patted the ground next to her. Ira walked over to her, and sat down. Natasha began her story.

"When I was a child, my house was set on fire. My mother saved me, but died herself. A man named Ivan found me, and took me to the Red Room. It was disguised as a ballet studio, so I trained in ballet. I was one of the best. But, then of course, I began training as an assassin, and the rest was history." She gave a tight smile. Ira knew that Natasha was generally a very guarded person, so she was glad that she felt that she could trust Ira with this information.

Natasha stood up, and helped Ira up. "Now I only dance occasionally, usually if I'm stressed. So, what did you come here for?"

"Oh, I was going to train." Ira told her, and Natasha nodded. She left, and Ira walked over to the power room. She shut the door behind her, and focused on the target in front of her. She sent wave after wave of blue energy slamming into the target, until it was knocked over.

"Jeez. Someone's upset," Pietro said from behind her. Ira turned to look at him, panting heavily. She swept a strand of hair away from her face.

"Keep talking and you'll see how upset I can be."

He laughed, and held his hands up. "I surrender."

"Why are you here, anyway?" She asked him.

"I just want to see my beautiful girlfriend." He said. He sped up to her, and wrapped his arms around her.

Ira shrugged his arms off. "I need to train."

Pietro smiled. "Perfect. I'll train with you."

Ira raised an eyebrow. "Like, as a target?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

Ira looked at him incredulously. "Okay." She leaned low, and spread her legs slightly, anchoring herself on the ground. Pietro sped around her, and Ira raised her hands, and blue energy crept down them. She blasted the energy at Pietro as he sped around the room. Usually she would miss; he was so fast after all. But sometimes she struck him.

She hit him particularly hard with a sphere of energy, and he fell down. Ira assumed that he would get back up, but he didn't. She ran over to him, her hands already glowing with healing blue energy. When she crouched down by him, he started laughing, and rolled over.

She shoved him. "Don't do that!"

Pietro sat up, leaning on his elbows. "Why, because you'd miss me if I died."

"Of course," Ira told him. "I love you, despite your... irritation."

"Irritation? That's called charm." Pietro defended.

Ira scoffed in disbelief. "You and I have a very different definition of charm."
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A/N:

A little bit more mundane, but I'm kind of running out of ideas, as you can probably tell.

Also, if you guys could go check out my other book, Songbirds, that would be great.

I love you three thousand

-E l i z a b e t h