Chapter Text
It started like this.
Tony was drunk. Probably. He had been drinking, but he was also at the level of exhausted where everything started to feel like he was drunk even when he was sober.
It wasn't that he hadn't tried to sleep, it was that sleep was apparently a thing that happened to other people. He'd lain in bed besides Pepper while she slept peacefully. He'd watched her. He'd tried not to toss and turn. He'd run through everything in his mind over and over again. He'd thought about the wormhole and the glowing stick of destiny and about Loki and dying, run over the entire thing over and over again in his head. What could he have done differently? What would he do differently next time? Would there even be a next time? How had his life come to this? He'd never wanted this.
He tried to focus on other things as a distraction. He couldn't stop alien invasions when he was sleep deprived so he needed to sleep and fixating wasn’t going to help anyone. Instead he could wonder what kind of things he could put in an apartment to tempt Natasha to move in. Or Steve. He knew they were both still with S.H.I.E.L.D. but, whatever. He could think about what he was going to do with Banner in the lab tomorrow. Could think about the ridiculous things Fury apparently wanted them to do to train together as a team now the World Security Council had calmed down a bit and stopped trying to nuke the planet. But none of those thoughts were enough to chase away the clawing anxiety for long.
So he’d gotten out of bed. He'd started drinking as a way to shut down the circling throughs, but it had only made them more sluggish. Then, finally, he'd stumbled on a problem he could solve. Or that he thought he could solve.
Really stumbled on it. There was a pop up ad. One of those ridiculous 'hot Russian girls waiting for your fascist American cock' things, but it got him thinking. Barton was always whining about being alone, right? Okay, not always and not whining, but he'd mentioned it a few times and Romanov teased him about it so it was clearly a thing. A thing Tony could fix.
He didn't open the pop up. He was drunk and exhausted, not stupid. He DID search for a better foreign bride site. Not that he was going to buy Barton a woman, but he was going to sign him up.
It'd be hilarious.
Tony got JARVIS to find a picture from the security feed and trimmed it. Wrote up a bit of a biography (what did Barton like? Heights? Birds? Arrows?) and posted it.
Then he passed out on his bench and didn't wake up for nearly nineteen hours, at which point he'd forgotten about the entire thing.
So, well, Tony did start it but he could hardly be held responsible. He hadn't been in his right mind and he had just been trying to help.
But that was how it all started.
***
It also started like this.
Pietro hated his sister. He really did. He'd had a long day serving bad food to tourists who couldn't even be bothered to learn how to say please and thank you in their own language, never mind his. All he'd wanted was to come home and eat the greasy pizza he'd saved from the night before. That was all.
The box had been there, wedged sideways into their tiny fridge. He'd pulled it out, almost salivating at the thought of what was waiting for him. He'd opened the box...to find a bad drawing of a sad faced stick figure (it was probably meant to be him) and Wanda's signature.
He really, really hated her.
Especially since there hadn't been anything else in the fridge or the cupboards so he was starting to feel the bite of hunger in his stomach. Not badly yet, but enough. Wanda probably thought he'd get fed at the restaurant. Sometimes he did if they overcooked. Just not tonight.
But he wasn't being generous in his thoughts towards her. He wasn't. Because she'd eaten his pizza and it had been his.
Something of that scale demanded a response of equal measure. He considered going into her room and messing with her stuff but she'd only turn that back on him. No, it had to be something she wouldn't find out about until later and something that she couldn't turn back.
He was browsing the internet and plotting when he saw the pop up. It was too perfect, it really was. It took him only a few minutes to track down a 'legitimate' site and sign Wanda up for a profile. They shared the computer so he found a picture of her easily enough and the rest was simple. It didn't even cost anything as he was signing up as a woman from Eastern Europe. Perfect, since he was broke.
Then he sent off a few messages to the first few losers he encountered. Some flattering bullshit about how handsome and virile they looked. If a few replied then he'd talk to them, string them along for a couple of days, then dump the entire thing on Wanda. Maybe share the profile link with someone they knew first.
He went to bed with his stomach empty but heart full of the outraged look Wanda would get when she saw what he'd done.
***
ScarletBitch: Hey, handsome. You look like one hell of a man. So strong. Want to message with me?
Tony read the message three times, then went back to check that he'd actually used a picture of Barton on the profile. Yes, he had. Definitely.
Apparently he'd found the only blind dating site user in Eastern Europe. Or, more likely, she thought Clint looked like he had money.
Either way, Tony knew that this would be the appropriate time to delete the account. The message had been sent some time in the early morning, this ScarletBitch chick would have given up by now anyway and in the harsh light of day he could see that it really wasn't fair for him to use Clint's image like that without telling him. As well intentioned as it had been, he should never have set up the account...
He looked over to the lab where there was still an arrow sticking out of Dum-E. It would take far too long to fix that and Dum-E'd be useless until Tony did (not that he wasn't useless normally, it was just the principal of the thing).
The mature adult thing would be to delete the profile, but Tony didn't always feel very much like being a mature adult.
Hawkguy: Hey, cutie. you looking for a big, strapping American to rock your little world?
***
Three days later Tony had calmed down enough about the arrow incident to realise that it was actually probably pretty morally dubious to pretend to be Clint online. By then he'd exchanged quite a few messages with ScarletBitch, though. Found out she was really called Wanda and she had a pretty wicked sense of humour. She wasn't bad looking in her picture either. Seemed a shame to waste the opportunity. Clint was still 90% moping (10% being an ass) and could probably do with a cute girl chatting with him to cheer him up.
So, instead of deleting it, Tony just had JARVIS send the profile and login details to Clint's computer with a brief letter of apology and got on with his day. After all, he was a genius. He had better things to do than worry about Clint Barton's personal life.
***
This was how it came to be that one evening, when Clint was mindlessly playing tower defence games, minding his own business, and very pointedly not thinking about Loki and mind control and collateral damage, his screen was suddenly taken over by a European bride site with what looked very much like a profile for him.
He jumped, hand jerking back from the mouse, and had about half a second to worry about how much Tony was going to kill him for getting a virus in the system when a message popped up on top of it.
"Hey," the message read. "I kind of signed you up for this. I was drunk. Wanda's an okay kid. You should chat to her."
In the space of a few second Clint went from worrying that Tony was going to murder him to wanting to murder Tony, because the note wasn't signed but there was really only one person who could have sent it.
Clint'd meant to delete the account straight away, he really had. The last thing he needed in his life was a goddamn mail order bride. The problem was Wanda. A person. Tony'd been using the stupid profile, pretending to be Clint, and talking to some poor girl who was going to notice if he suddenly disappeared. Clint wasn't that much of an asshole.
Under torture he might have also admitted to being a little bit curious about the sort of woman Tony had found for him. But only under torture.
She was good looking. Too young for him. definitely, but he'd have gone there in his younger days. Tony had also been talking to her for days and had left her no explanation before handing the account over. Clint wasn't enough of an ass to leave the poor kid hanging.
So he sent a quick hello then sat back to wait for her to log on. Then he'd explain and delete his account. Simple.
***
There were days that were better and there were days that were worse. This was a day that was worse.
The worst thing about today was that there wasn't even anything specifically wrong. Pietro hadn’t seen anything that reminded him of their parents. He hadn't had a flashback to those long days of lying there, scared to move, his stomach cramping, the unexploded bomb inches from his face. He hadn't even had a scare with Wanda, she seemed to be having a good day.
He still wasn't having a good day. He was having the opposite of a good day.
He just couldn't seem to stop thinking about his parents. It was that kind of day. Every time he saw a kid with an adult he got a pang for all the times he'd never had with his parents. All the times Wanda had never had. All the ways everything would be easier if he'd just had them with him.
It was the kind of day where he got stuck on the most insignificant thing. He kept thinking about one time, just one time, when his mum had been mad enough with him to smack him. A light smack on the shoulder but it had stung and he had cried and sulked for hours as she ignored him. He couldn't even remember what he'd done now but the memory of the punishment was still there and now he felt guilt at remembering it. As though what had happened since should have wiped all the bad memories of her and his dad. Like there should only be good things left.
It hadn't been a good day.
But the world didn't stop for bad days. He'd have liked to curl up under the duvet and mope and let the day pass him by. Instead he had to get up and go to work and put on the best fake smile he had and pretend that he was happy about it.
Then he'd had to walk home because he didn't have the money for the bus. It had been raining and freezing and by the time he got through the door he was just about ready to give up.
Wanda had taken one look at him and wrapped him up in her arms, even though he was dripping wet. She'd sent him to the shower while she made hot drinks for them. Then, when he was dry, she'd curled up with him on the couch and let him lie silently with his head on her stomach until it was time for her to go to work.
Some days he really, really loved his sister.
Once she was gone he logged onto the computer and opened up the browser, navigating straight to the site like he had for the last few days. Clint had already sent him an hello. Of the few who'd replied to Pietro's first message, Clint was the only one stupid enough to still be talking. To Wanda. Because he wanted to sleep with her.
Suddenly the entire thing wasn't very funny anymore. Wanda might be a pain but she was still his sister and there were limits.
He was going to get rid of the account. He'd delete it and she'd never know and that'd be it.
And then, just as he was hovering over the delete button, a message popped up. Clint, of course. Well, it wouldn't have been polite to let the old man go without saying goodbye.
Hawkguy: Hey.
ScarletBitch: Hello.
Hawkguy: How has your day been?
ScarletBitch: Honestly, not so good.
Pietro let his finger hover over the reply for a second before he sent it. He hadn't meant to type that but Clint had never asked before, he normally went straight for the flirty banter. It wasn't like it mattered if he told Clint. He'd never talk to Clint again after today anyway.
Hawkguy: I'm sorry.
Hawkguy: Want to tell me about it?
Scarletbitch: Just a bad day, you know.
Scarletbitch: I can't stop remembering the bad things and then the rest of the day just...
Hawkguy: That sucks.
Hawkguy: I've have days like that too.
Hawkguy: You got someone there with you?
Scarletbitch: Nah.
Scarletbitch: My brother was. He made me a drink and gave me a hug but he had to go to work.
Hawkguy: It's good that you've got a brother who cares about you.
Hawkguy: Mine's a bit of a loser.
Scarletbitch: He's the best.
Scarletbitch: We're twins. We've been through a lot together.
Hawkguy: I'm glad you've got him.
Hawkguy: Want to know what I do when I have a dark day?
Scarletbitch: Go on.
Hawkguy: I get the biggest blanket I can find and curl up under it and watch the silliest movie I can find.
Scarletbitch: That sounds pretty good, actually.
Hawkguy: Yeah. I have the best plans.
Hawkguy: You want to watch a movie with me, then?
Scarletbitch: I haven't got any.
Scarletbitch: That you'd know.
Hawkguy: You got netflix?
Scarletbitch: No.
Hawkguy: Dude, everyone should have Netflix.
Scarletbitch: Well, the budget doesn't really run to that kind of thing.
Hawkguy: Yeah, I've been there.
Hawkguy: Okay.
Hawkguy: I'm gonna set you up an account. Then we can watch something together.
Scarletbitch: You don't need to do that.
Hawkguy: I know. But you're not having a good day and sometimes it just needs one person to try to make the day not suck as much.
Hawkguy: So watch a stupid movie with me and stop arguing.
Scarletbitch: Yes boss.
Hawkguy: That's more like it.
Hawkguy: Go find a warm blanket. I'll have your account ready when you get back.
***
Clint didn't get round to deleting his account that night. Tony's account. He'd meant to, he really had. But there had been something vulnerable about Wanda. He hadn't liked the thought of telling the kid their entire interaction had been a lie and leaving, not when she was already hurting and she was being so damn open with him. So he hadn't meant to but he'd ended up talking to her. Ended up buying her a netflix account. Ended up laughing at her stupid one-liners to some mindless action movie. Found himself enjoying himself. And then it was too late to go deleting his account when they'd been talking that long.
But he would delete it next time, definitely.
***
Pietro didn't get round to deleting his account that night. Wanda's account. He'd meant to, he really had. But there had been something different about Clint. The guy had gone from a string of bad pickup lines to sounding like he actually cared and somehow Clint'd managed, somewhere in their mocking of bad American films, to make Pietro actually feel better.
But he would delete it next time, definitely.