"I love history." Peter replied and the girl rolled her eyes,

"Well you would"

"Hey!" Peter pushed her shoulder, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Before she had time to answer, they had reached the kitchen and had walked into a heated argument. Two silhouettes sat with their backs to the teenager and child, speaking  scarily low.  

"Can we talk about this?" She asked, voice pleading.

Their faces were dimly visible by the two burning candles on the counter that stood between them and neither had noticed the two frozen in the doorway.

"I don't want to argue with you, and that's what this is going to turn into" He stood and pushed the chair in, making a scraping noise as it rattled against the floor.

"Well maybe we need to argue, we never talk anymore." She stated, "you avoid me like the plague." Peter could see the daggers she was shooting him from here as she rose from her own chair, pushing it in without sound.

"There isn't much to talk to" He exclaimed, "you're not even a person anymore." 

"That's not fair." 

"That's not fair? You know what isn't fair? You won't even look me in the eyes half the time, you wont even let me touch you and when I do you flinch away!" Their voices were rising and Peter felt Aria's hand reach for his. 

"I told you it would take time."

"I should've asked how much time." He scoffed and Peter wanted to leave, they shouldn't be here.

"You're being mean, Steve."

Peter glanced at the window, taking note of the snow falling outside. He might need to grab Aria another layer. 

Steve reached out and touched her arm but the redhead jolted back as if she had been burned. "See? You won't let me near you." He sighed, "I don't know what you expect me to say?"

"I want you to say that you'll be tolerant, and that you still want me." The second half came out as a whisper, the words barely ghosting on her lips.

"I don't know what I want, you're not giving me anything to grasp onto! At least Sharon asks me about my day, at least she wants to have a fucking conversation!"

"Sharon Carter?" Natasha's voice stilled, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, Sharon. She cares about me."

"Oh, did she tell you that?" Natasha scoffed, rage boiling within her. "So much for being patient."

"I've been patient, Natasha, it's been a year. She's dead and you can't accept it."  

"She was my daughter Steve!" Natasha was yelling now and Aria was crying. Peter could feel the tears dripping onto his hand as she held it to her chest. He couldn't move, paralyzed to the spot. "She was everything to me and she's gone. Am I supposed to just move on?" 

"You're supposed to try, other people still need you."

"Like you?" The words had a sharp edge to them and Peter could feel the air shift.

"Oh please, I knew I shouldn't have done this" Steve took a step forward but Natasha didn't move.

"Done what?" The tone was daring, she was seeing if he would physically materialize the words they were dancing around.

"This" He pointed between them. "You're like a riptide Natasha, chaos follows wherever you go." The words were lethal and in turn, killed any civility the argument had left. The two fell silent and Natasha's eyes were wide. 

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