SUPREMACY / P. MAXIMOFF

motel barton

"Do you have any idea what happened to you in Sokovia?"

"Not really, but I don't care. I look like fucking Khaleesi! 'And I will take what is mine, with fire and blood!'"

"Pipe down, peppy. A couple hours ago we thought you were dead, you don't get to go joking with us until we know what happened to you."

Anastazya sighed, slumping down in her bed and pouting, her lower lip protruding out. Tony sighed and rolled his eyes.

"That face hasn't worked on me for six years, and it doesn't work now."

"Ease up, will you?" Pietro spat at Tony, narrowing his eyes at him. He sat in the bed next to Anastazya with his fingers trailing up and down her arm in a soothing manner. Wanda sat at the end of Ana's bed, watching them with a glint in her eye.

"Cool it, Lover Boy," Tony retaliated. "You may be her boyfriend or whatever, but she's still my daughter."

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony. "You're just pestering her for information so you can see if something scientifically broadening has occurred. And you aren't even the father figure here- you're the weird uncle."

"Speaking of weird uncles," Ana asked, the Mind Stone's energy finally kicking in. "Where is Thor? And Bruce? Are they okay?"

Natasha's face faltered.

Clint sighed, placing a gentle hand on Natasha's shoulder. He took a step forward. "Bruce went M.I.A. after the battle. Thor went back to Asgard to investigate the Infinity Stones. We tried to contact him, but he's kind of in a different galaxy, so--"

"The Infinity Stones?" Ana asked, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her singed hair in fingers.

Don't, the Mind Stone ordered Ana in her head.

I want to tell them, it's only fair. Like you said before, you can't control me, Ana replied, sneering internally.

What are they going to want to do as soon as they find out, dumb-dumb? Cut you open? Extract me out of you? What they don't know is you'll--

Die. I know, I know. And so will you. But I trust them; it doesn't matter if you don't. All of these things happening to me, isn't it fair to at least tell them--

No. It's not about fair and unfair anymore. It's about surviving.

Ana sighed, leaning back against Pietro's chest. He rested his chin atop her head.

"Do you know anything about them?" Steve asked. Ana shook her head, clenching her teeth together. She hated lying, especially to her family.

"No, I don't. But can you get this damned IV out of me?"

"Yeah, then we can get you out of here," Steve told her, smiling encouragingly. He gestured to Tony to help.

Tony sighed at the lack of information and moved forward to remove the IV out of Anastazya, but she smacked his hands away.

"What do you mean, get me out of here? Why can't I just go to my room?"

Wanda pat Ana's leg in a comforting manner. "You are going to your room, just not here. We wanted to get you out of New York for a little while."

Ana's face scrunched up in distaste. "What the hell? Where else would I go?"

Clint smiled sheepishly. "Remember when I told you that you'd be coming to stay with me after Ultron was defeated?"

•

"While you were....gone, I started on that new addition of the house I kept talking about. It was a place for Wanda and Pietro to live, and I added extra space just in case you were to ever come back," Clint explained as he led the trio into his noticeably larger house. "Laura's been furnishing it while I've been gone, so... welcome home I guess!"

Wanda grinned, looking at Anastazya for the same reaction, only to find a firm grimace painted on her face. Wanda's face fell.

"You look upset. You do not want to live with us?"

Ana's eyes widened as she was pulled away from her fuming reverie.

"No of course I do, it's just...is the wheelchair necessary?"

Pietro snickered from his spot behind Ana, steering her chair with one hand and dragging her luggage with the other.

"Of course it is, Princessa. You need to relax," Pietro told her, sounding too amused for Ana's liking.

"But I can walk. Walking doesn't exert anything--"

"Shut up."

"But Pietro, I--"

"Shut up!"

"I don't like it it makes me feel--"

Ana yelped out in surprise when Pietro reached over and flicked her in the forehead.

"Ow! What the fuck?! Pietro that wasn't--" Anastazya cut herself off.

Quiet, you fool! The Mind Stone scolded her. I am finally being treated like the precious artifact I am. Do not ruin this for me, or you will never hear the end of it.

Anastazya groaned and ran her hands through her newly cut hair. Wanda had done it for her, leaving it only barely at the shoulders. There wasn't much of her hair that could be salvaged after the explosion.

Clint rounded a corner to reveal a long hallway to a large closed off door. He grinned excitedly.

"I have to admit that Steve and Tony helped a little bit, but the design and everything was purely mine," he rambled, leading them to the end of the hallway and wrapping his hand around the doorknob. When he twisted it, the door opened to reveal a very large room. 

The room was like a perfect magazine cover. Anastazya was afraid to settle anywhere in case she were to wrinkle the fabric or stain it with something. The couch was cream but inlaid with a fine green silk; leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there in spring and just sunk in, but she knew they took hundreds of hours to sew. The white curtains were linen, the kind of white that was untouched by hands and devoid of dust. The floor was a high polished wood, dark and free of either dust or clutter. Anastazya immediately noticed that there were two levels. The first resembled a living room. In one corner was a small kitchenette, and in another was the door to a large bathroom with marble counter tops and a large shower. The ceiling above them was one of glass, and through it, Anastazya could see three beds, a few bedside tables, bookshelves, and the light coming from a gigantic window with a nook.

Anastazya had never seen a room with so much furniture and so many hues she'd never choose, nor a room she loved so much. She had dedicated her purchases to clean lines, simple and mostly white, but the walls were all lavender and the colors of the sunset. The furniture was rustic and dark, sprinkled liberally with vibrant cushions. There was a table in easy reach of every seat and the walls were covered in more photographs than paint. Every single one was of a happy memory. Anastazya turning twelve, a few action photos from their battles, years ago and recent, Steve shaking hands with Fury for the first time. Somehow, Clint had found photos of the twins with their parents when they were younger, pictures that made Pietro's eyes watery. The air was warm and smelled of sugar cookies. It wasn't just a house, it was a home; Clint made it that way. Ana's heart warmed at the expression on the twin's faces. They hadn't had a home in too long.

"Welcome to Motel Barton," Clint breathed out, observing his handiwork with a giddy grin on his face. "Make yourself at home."