Your relationship with Pietro had never started off sweetly.

From the beginning, Pietro hated Tony Stark. The man's wealth, his industries, his weapons—everything about him had been a reminder of loss. Stark's creations had reduced Sokovia to rubble, had stolen Pietro's parents from him, and for years he carried that truth like a blade pressed against his ribs. Tony Stark had killed his family. There was no convincing him otherwise.

When the Avengers first encountered him and Wanda, it was in Sokovia. The twins had been subjects of Hydra experiments, sharpened into weapons, desperate for revenge. Ultron had promised them justice, so they fought for him—against the Avengers, against Stark, against anyone who stood in their way. And when you had tried to reason with Pietro, he'd laughed it off and turned away. Why would he listen to the daughter of the man he despised most?

But Ultron revealed his true plan soon enough: not revenge, but extinction. Once again, the Maximoffs realized they'd been nothing more than pawns in someone else's game. And in the chaos that followed, Sokovia crumbling around them, Pietro was forced to make a choice. He could cling to his hatred, or he could save lives. In the end, he chose the latter. He saved you, and with you, he saved more than just his sister—he saved himself. From that day on, he and Wanda stood with the Avengers.

That didn't mean things suddenly became easy. Pietro and you still grated against each other, sharp edges clashing whenever you crossed paths. But over time, the hostility softened into something else—something stubborn, unspoken. Pietro would never admit aloud that he'd come to see Stark differently, that he no longer blamed him alone for his parents' deaths. And you... well, you weren't your father. You were your own force entirely, one he found himself drawn to in spite of every argument, every insult, every pointed glare you threw his way. Sparks—there were always sparks between you.

Then came Sokovia's fall, and with it, the accords. Governments demanded accountability; the world wanted control over the avengers. The team fractured overnight. You stood firmly at your father's side, defending the accords, while wanda bristled under tony's watch and joined cap's rebellion. Pietro was caught in the middle, torn between blood loyalty to his twin and the uneasy gratitude he owed stark for giving them both a second chance. In the end, he chose tony—not only because of what stark had done, but perhaps, though he'd never say it, because of you.

Tony, sharp as ever, wasted no opportunity. He knew appearances mattered, so he sent his daughter and pietro as representatives to a un reception: a glittering event filled with cameras, politicians, and empty smiles. On paper, you were a perfect pair—tony stark's daughter and sokovia's own miracle, united under the avengers' banner. In reality, you had another mission: get close enough to certain delegates to uncover what the un truly planned to do with the accords. The job required elegance, composure, civility.

Unfortunately, civility had never been your strong suit.

Case in point: the moment a delegate dismissed you, you drove the sharp point of your stiletto heel straight into pietro's foot. He released your waist instantly with a hiss, while you swept past him into the sea of diplomats, your expression cool and unbothered. Scanning the room for useful scraps of information, you muttered through clenched teeth that you had to act civil—civil, not like some quarrelsome married couple. Pietro, of course, ignored you.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he blurred back into step beside you, weaving through the crowd with infuriating ease. Before you could shrug him off, his arm slid right back around your waist, deliberately this time, if only to see the storm in your eyes flare again.

"do you ever stop complaining?" he murmured, voice laced with mock innocence as you shot him a glare that could kill. "i'm helping your father make a good impression."