It had been five days since I had woke up in this gigantic building. I couldn't deny the weirdness of those people, they seemed to be telling everything that came to their mind.

The teen, Peter Parker, was very energetic and talkative, I wasn't even surprised when he and Pietro became fast friends. I noticed a certain tenderness that came to people's eyes as the boy babbled sincerely and innocently about anything and everything. He was very lively, he used his hand gestures a lot to get a point across. He was a bundle of anxiety that felt the need to make people smile.

Really, he was worse then Pietro.

Wanda still wasn't a fan of me, but she tolerated my presence in the room. At least she has so far, whenever I feel her patience running short, I try to leave her alone to her dark thoughts.

Loki is devasted, even when he hides behind his smooth smirk, mischievous green eyes and thick books. There is still deep sadness that prickles his broken heart. His brother, Thor is away in Asgard a lot, some kind of business Odin has called him in for. Since Loki is still not allowed back to his home, he is unable to go with his brother. Making the younger of the two stay in the tower and hide behind his judgmental looks and sly smirks. Well build facade.

Bucky hasn't talked much, yet he has stayed by my side most of the time. It didn't look as if he was trying, it seemed like more of an habit. Which only confirmed my suspicioun, he had told me the truth.
Steve was very warm guy, I liked him. He was thoughtful and considered absolutely everything before he made any kind of decisions.

I had sat on a stool in the kitchen, trying to understand what a person does normally when they're not locked in a cell, it was awkward to come up with anything that was considered normal for these people. So, Steve had started cooking something. It was very memorable, he'd peek over his muscular shoulder from time to time, offering a warm smile as he went on about how he and Bucky were best mates and how he became Captain America. I found my mouth wide open in wonder when he had finished with his story.

I couldn't understand how a person like Steve could end up so friendly and strong after all he had gone throught. I couldn't help but wonder, could I one day be like Steve? So generous yet strickt, so thoughtful yet strong minded.

And then there was Tony Stark, the man who irritated me to no end. He talked about things I could barely understand, his mouth was moving million miles per hour and there was always a glass with liquid in his pale hands. He too was anxious, and in a way I couldn't help but wonder should Peter Parker be biologically Peter Stark instead. The two were often tinkering and talking in their own language. Even Bruce had kept his distance with a ghost of a smile on his lips as he watched how Tony had playfully slapped Peter upside head for spilling his coffee all over blueprints.

It was a family, that's how I'd define a family if I knew one.

Natasha and Clint had disappeared somewhere on the third day, I had my suspicions, but an assassin has to do what they're told.

I sat tensely on the same bar stool I had been sitting a couple of days ago, simply watching how Steve cut the mushrooms as if he has been doing it since he was a little child. The knives and ingredients were flying around him as if it was magic. He cooked with ease and relaxed shoulders, tasting everything and always stirring the pasta or soup whatever he was making.

“—I sat on the pavement, watching as other kids played. They were running so fast, they often fell and dirtied their clothes, making their mothers go red from annoyance and anger over teared clothes. But that didn't matter to the kids, they were having the time of their lives. I couldn't play back then, I was very sick kid. I-- huh, where's the salt? I swear it was here just seconds ago.” the tall blonde muttered, going thought the basket filled with spices, forgetting the story he was telling.

My cold, yellow eyes traveled on my right hand, my fingers curling around the circular object that held salt in it. I gulped, looking back up at the Soldier who was frowning, still tying to find the salt that I had stolen earlier.

I really couldn't find any other way to try and communicate with Steve. I found it fascinating how he could make something delicious with such ease and feel so relaxed while doing it. I wanted to find that same passion.

Clutching the salt in my hand, I slid off the bar stool, biting the inside of my cheek as I took another bold step closer to the muscular man. He had noticed me by now, looking quizzically at me. Paniced, I opened my palm and offered him the salt he was looking for.

His eyebrows shot up as he noticed it in my hands, for a moment, I expected him to lash out, be angry at me for having snatched it away like that.

He just smiled and took it, offering me a friendly smile.

No, it's Steve. Steve isn't abusive, he is friendly. Steve is one of the good guys.

“Wanna help? Come here, everyone else are too busy to help these days. Wanna be co-chef today? Here, just chop these carrots like that yeah? Go on, you can do it. I'll just cut the chicken.” he said, holding out the shiny knife.

A knife that could harm someone.

A knife I can harm someone with.

A knife that I could possibly cut someone's throat with.

But I wouldn't do that, not in this building. Not to these people, never to these people. They trusted me enough to give something as sharp as this knife.

I had to trust them too then.
Hesitantly, I took the knife from Steve's calloused hands, with encouraging smile he went to cutting the meat.

I stared at the sharp object laying on the palm of my hand. Steve went on with his story, telling how the mother's of the playing children had cooed over him, offering him candy, trying to shower him with pity while all he did was sit aside and cheer for the weaker team.

While he talked, I kept cutting the carrots carefully. I had to get every small slice perfectly shaped and the same size. Maybe he would ask my help next time too if I was good enough.

It seemed normal, as if it was every-day thing. I found myself enjoying it very much, it was as if cutting carrots was the most intriguing job in the world.

“why is he helping you and why is he holding a knife Steve? Didn't you hear what Fury said?” a cold voice made me cut the small slice of the carrot with such force I nearly cut my finger.

“hello Wanda. And he is helping because I was in need of extra hands. I'm planning to get Tony up here with us for the dinner. The man needs to eat something else but his burgers, and he needs the knife to chop the carrots. And I did hear what Fury said. He never said anything about not letting Atlas help.” Steve hummed, putting something awful smelling on the pan. I had been so focused to chopping carrots I had missed Wandas entrance.

“You don't know what goes throught his head Steve. And if you needed help, you could have asked me. You know my powers, I could have helped with everything here.” I closed my eyes, forcing my mouth shut as I felt the vibrations of jealousy hitting the walls of my mind.

“Let the punk help, Wanda.” Steve chuckled, walking past me as he ruffled my dark hair, making me open my eyes in surprise by the gentle yet mocking gesture. Startled, I stared at the man who was seasoning whatever horrible thing he was frying. Wanda huffed, crossing her arms.

“But Steve y--”

“Drop it Wanda. Give him a chance, besides, I doubt you could have enjoyed chopping carrots for twenty minutes as much as he did.” there was a warning undertone in his voice. I felt quite awkward as I looked up at Wanda. She looked away, mumbling how she was needed elsewhere.

I really did want to get along with her, but I don't think she would have enjoyed my company very much.

“I'll take that now, nicely done kid. Don't worry about her, she'll come around.” The Soldier said, taking the carrots under my nose to throw them in the mix of other ingredients.

“whatcha cooking there, Soldier Beef?” an accented voice asked, I looked over to Pietro who was munching on a piece of carrot he had snatched from Steve.

“chicken pasta and vegetables, Pietro. Please take your feet off the table.” Steve said, not even looking at Pietro who had his long feet on the table. The white haired man raised his eyebrow and in a blink of an eye, he was sitting on the table cross legged.

Steve sighed but said no more.

If that's how real family acted, I wanted to be part of it.

A/N

It's 1am, hope you enjoyed the chapter haha

By the way, I'm going to The Neighbourhood concert on January and I can't wait!

Who is your favourite artist?

Love ya all and thanks for reading! Don't be shy to leave a comment xx