The apartment was always so still when Wanda wasn't there. One would have thought it would be the opposite, especially when one knew the other inhabitant, Pietro, and his mannerisms. It would seem all too likely that there would be music playing in every room (a different kind in every room, of course) and that there would be multiple machines whirring away, all doing different tasks so that the speedster could quickly go back and forth between all of them.

But no—that was not the case. When alone, Pietro tended to stay stagnant. Most days when he had the apartment to himself, he would sleep. Open the windows, let the sun shine in, and warm his still body. Other times, if he couldn't fall asleep, he would read, book after book until he ran out, or until Wanda came home. If it was raining, Pietro would sit in his chair, drink a cup of hot cocoa, and simply watch the rain, drop by drop hitting the windows like an artillery emptying out constant shots of ammunition. The only noise that could be heard would be the steady breathing of the room's sole inhabitant. No music, no television, no radio. Just the calm inhale and exhale of a worn down hero.

It would all change when Wanda arrived. It was then that the noise remerged and echoed through the small apartment with the aid of music, TV, and endless chatter. Wherever Wanda went, Pietro fluttered about her, asking every minute detail of her day, pampering her with soft touches on kisses on the cheek.

Something about the natural chaos of Wanda and her powers made the noise seem so right—so fitting. And that was why Pietro kept things so calm and quiet when she wasn't there. It just didn't feel right.

It was a particularly calm and quiet evening when Pietro heard the click of the door unlocking. His eyes opened from their previously relaxed position, his dark green irises lazily moving to focus on the turning lock. Within a short moment, the mahogany wood was replaced with the beautiful figure of the Scarlet Witch.

On this cold February day, Wanda was comforted by the warm embrace of a large maroon sweater, its tall neck caressing the pale skin. Her cheeks were just a tad bit pink from the cold air outside. She dropped her purse—a pink patchwork of different patterned cloth in the shape of a hobo bag that was a gift from Janet last Christmas—at her feet. It fell with a quiet thud. The first of many to come.

Pietro moved from his spot on the couch, grabbed the bag, put it in its place on Wanda's right nightstand in her bedroom, returned, turned on the radio, and gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek. All within the time of about 1.003 seconds. A bit slow for the speedster, but then again, he was just waking up.

"How'd it go today?" he asked, drawing back from the kiss.

"Slow day. Nothing really big, no bad guys, just working on a negotiation with S.H.I.E.L.D. so that the team doesn't have to have a nanny all the time," Wanda responded, flipping of her red heels.

Again, Pietro took the items, returned them to their place in the closet, and was back beside the witch within 0.507 seconds. He was slowly gaining speed. Taking his sister's hand, he admired the aquamarine ring that he had given her. It resembled a grapevine wrapping around her delicate finger, a mix of diamonds and aquamarine stones. He had had it custom made, having worked with an Austrian jeweler just a month ago. It was a gift of thanks and celebration that warranted such professional talent.

"Pietro, you're standing still."

"And?"

"You're usually a hummingbird when I'm home."

"I just love it when you wear this. Can't I be sentimental sometimes?"

Wanda laughed, taking her hand back as she moved to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. Her brother followed, forever her shadow.

"How's Coulson handling the proposition that we don't need him babysitting us all the time?" he asked, handing his sister the little glass container of sugar.

"He seems to be taking it well. He's continued to work in his puzzle book as we talk with the reps from headquarters, so I think that's good."

"I hope he doesn't think we're trying to get rid of him," Pietro muttered, echoing a sentiment that had been expressed countless times before by other members of the Avengers.

Wanda gave a gentle smile to her brother, put the sugar down, offered her hand. He took it, of course, and held it between his two.

"I'm sure he understands," Wanda sighed, "He's an Avenger in our eyes. I'm sure it's the same for the rest of the team."

"I know, just, I worry."

The witch nodded knowingly. "He's a very dear person to your heart, Pietro."

"You know he's the one that finally gave me the courage to tell you how I truly felt." His gaze again returned to the ring on his sister's finger.

Leading her brother to the couch, Wanda sat, cross-legged in the center. Pietro stood, frowned, and then lifted her petite form up into his arms, holding her close to him. She giggled, enjoying the spontaneous embrace.

"Is there something else bothering you?" the witch asked, sensing her brother's anxiety.

"No," Pietro answered too quickly.

Wanda crawled out of her brother's arms and pulled him down to sit on the couch. To ensure that he wouldn't try and get out of the conversation, she sat in his lap. "Talk to me."

He attempted to avoid her gaze, but he knew better than to do that. It was impossible to stay away from her emerald eyes for too long, especially when he knew it was focused on him, and him alone.

"He's just the only one on the team who knows about us…it's nice not always having to pretend—to know that there's somebody who's going to defend us when the worst comes, whenever that is."

"The worst?"

"When the others find out."

Wanda gave a quizzical look. "How is that the worst?"

"You know they won't be supportive."

"And?"

Pietro stopped at that. And? There was so much that could follow that three letter word. The speedster didn't even know how to begin to explain the countless ways that catastrophe could befall them when their fellow Avengers stopped defending the twins.

"How many times do I have to remind you? It doesn't matter what happens or what others think—as long as we have each other," Wanda said quietly, her hands reaching up and caressing her brother's face.

Pietro took a deep breath in, letter the incoming air flow through him, washing away the worried thoughts.

"I know, I know," he sighed, shutting his eyes, "But you know how I am."

"Remember the first night we were together?" the witch mused.

"Of course," he murmured, "I could never forget it."

Wanda tilted Pietro's head closer to her, their lips meeting for a short moment.

"Then remember how you felt when you first kissed me."