Chapter Text
Pietro was used to waking up in the early morning. He typically preferred to sleep until noon, but the life he and Wanda lived rarely afforded them such a luxury. In Sokovia, he would grudgingly start each and every morning around 7am and he was an absolute bastard until he had at least a second cup of coffee.
So, it wasn’t difficult to adapt to his new early morning routine as an Avenger. In fact, it was the exact opposite of difficult—somehow, Pietro had become an early riser. After weeks of lying comatose in that cradle, being slowly stitched back together after being shredded with bullets, Pietro rarely ever wanted to sleep. He went to bed at 11pm every night and woke up at 4am every morning now.
He knew it wasn't healthy and Wanda was starting to suspect, but he couldn't afford to sleep now. Not after wasting so much time being dead. He had to, as Cap said, walk it off.
The compound was secluded in the middle of nowhere, far from the city and towns with thick forests for cover, so it meant it was the perfect location for Pietro to go on a run. A real run where he had the chance to properly stretch his legs and push himself to his top speeds.
So, every morning as soon as he woke up Pietro prepared for his morning run. He'd dress in his specially designed tracksuit and sneakers, Stark designed them to be able to handle his top speeds without breaking down, and he'd immediately speed off.
He ran so fast that it felt as if he was flying. The ground didn't matter, because each step was a minute fraction of a millisecond and each leap was an eternity in the air. The wind whipped through his hair and he laughed, a sound of pure joy and pride.
He had rarely had an opportunity to test his powers in such a way, often being restricted to confined cities and spaces, but here he was finally free. He raced miles and miles in mere minutes and eventually, after an hour of running, he returned to the compound drenched in sweat.
He took a shower every morning at 5:30am, but on his route to his bedroom (which had its own ensuite), he came across something unusual.
The Vision was standing in the kitchen, an apron wrapped around the robot's waist, and it—or was it he?—was preparing a feast of eggs and sausage links.
"Good morning, Mr. Maximoff. I hope you enjoyed your morning run." The Vision spoke politely and Pietro supposed he had been programmed that way, but the formality and the stiffness of the speech made him uncomfortable. And the Vision was somehow aware of his morning runs—he had thought that no one knew. He hoped Wanda didn't know at the very least.
Pietro didn't respond, staring confusingly at the strangely domestic sight before him. The Vision had been an incredibly capable weapon against Ultron and Pietro doubted they would have won without the robot, so Pietro had assumed that that was all he was: a weapon. He hadn’t imagined that the robot was programmed for much else. He vaguely remembered that Vision's AI, Jarvis, had been some sort of butler for Stark, so perhaps that's where he got it from.
The Vision must have interpreted his silence as a question because his next words answered one he had never asked.
"I thought I would prepare the team breakfast. Everything will be set when you have finished your shower, though you are approximately five minutes behind your usual schedule."
"Right," Pietro rolled his eyes. He'd have to get used to the Vision, he supposed.
He showered quickly, still unused to the total luxury of having unlimited access to hot water, and made his way back to the kitchen. He knew that he was going to enjoy the free breakfast.
As the Vision said, the food was all laid out on the counter. Pietro grabbed a plate and started shoveling eggs, bacon, and sausages onto it.
"Save some for the rest of us, xujló.”
Pietro gasped in mock offense at the insult. "No love for your dear beloved eldest brother who nearly died?"
Wanda rolled her eyes. “Your special treatment for that wore out a week ago. Now scooch." Wanda shoved her way next to him, her elbows teasingly butting into his side as she too piled food onto her plate. "And it's only by twelve minutes."
"That still counts!"
Pietro grinned as he took in Wanda's appearance. He was pleased to note that it appeared she had been slowly gaining weight since they joined the Avengers. She had always been so skinny growing up, especially because of how rare meals were to come by after the bombings, but now there was a healthy layer of fat over her bones. And her skin lacked the sickly pallor he had gotten so used to seeing.
Instead, there was color in her cheeks and an almost glow around her. She was happy, safe, and that's all Pietro's ever wanted for her. At that moment, his sister looked so peaceful and he knew his parents would have been happy to see this.
"Thanks for the food, Vision."
"You are quite welcome, Miss Maximoff."
Pietro had honestly forgotten about the robot. He turned to look at him, prepared to repeat his sister's thanks for fear of her scolding him for rudeness, but then he saw the strange look in the Vision's eyes.
"Wanda," she corrected him with a smile on her face and a teasing look in her eyes. Pietro could tell that this wasn't the first time they had had this conversation.
"Wanda," the Vision agreed, his eyes sparkling. "You are quite welcome, Wanda."
Wanda giggled slightly as she sat down at the table and Pietro watched the way the Vision's eyes followed his sister. Before, the Vision seemed overly cordial and polite—like a stilted simulation—but now there seemed to be genuine interest and curiosity in his movements. And the way he was looking at Wanda, if Pietro didn't know better he'd think … but he couldn’t—he was a robot!
But if anyone would program a robot for that it would be Tony Stark.
Pietro narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Vision. He sized him up like he would any man, or in this case machine, that showed an inclination towards his sister.
In many ways, the Vision looked strangely human. Sure, his skin was bright red and his body was covered with bits of metal, but his features were distinctly human in a way that Ultron was not. It was a strange choice for a robot who hated humanity to make his next body so … human, but Ultron was insane.
You couldn’t exactly expect consistency from something that wanted to destroy the world.
The Vision had some human qualities, but there was something distinctly mechanical about him from the way he moved and spoke and looked. Still, the way that the Vision stared at his sister had a sinister, almost human quality.
"Pietro," Wanda said pointedly and he rolled his eyes in response.
"Yeah, thanks, Vision." He shoved a piece of sausage in his mouth, it was slightly burnt but not bad, as he sat down next to Wanda. She tried to lightly elbow him for his rudeness, but he dodged the attack with ease. Still, he held up his hands in defeat and once again said, "Thank you so much, Vision."
Wanda nodded, satisfied.
"You are very welcome, Mr. Maximoff."
He cringed again at the formality, but he also had no desire to be familiar with the robot so he didn't bother correcting him.
The rest of the team soon joined the kitchen for breakfast and it quickly became a lively morning of shared conversation, even Wanda was socializing, but Pietro remained silent and alert.
The Vision didn’t eat nor did he even sit at the table, but he hovered nearby and occasionally spoke when questioned but rarely initiated anything. Instead, the Vision seemed content to be a simple observer and, while he seemed to be looking at all of them, he was most focused on Wanda. Every time Wanda laughed at a comment Sam or Natasha made the Vision stared at her with rapt attention. His eyes followed the small movements of her eating her food or reaching across the table for the peppermill.
Eventually, the Vision caught Pietro’s gaze and the Vision smiled; his smile was unnerving as if he had never smiled before which Pietro was sure was likely the case. He scowled and turned away from him, focusing instead on his food.
He then felt Wanda’s hand on his knee: a question and an offer of comfort; she must have sensed his agitation. He smiled and shrugged, letting her know it was nothing. She looked at him with her penetrating gaze, before nodding unconvincingly and returned her attention to the others—Nat had asked her a question.
Pietro attempted to join the conversation, but his eyes kept drifting over to the Vision who seemed to always be looking at Wanda. He was uncertain what the robot's gaze meant, but he knew it would only bring trouble.
The Vision was, first and foremost, a machine—that was something that Pietro knew with absolute certainty. And a machine shaped as a man shouldn’t be looking at his sister like that.