Candles
Pietro almost misses it, buried as it is amongst the unholy mix of tasteful, neutral coloured baubles and tacky, multi coloured tinsel monstrosities that threatened to overtake the entire Tower. It's only Wanda's surprised gasp that draws his eyes to it.
A hannukiyah.
Pietro hasn't seen one of them in a long time; an entire lifetime ago, or so it seemed. A life that was full of love and happiness, full of family, gathering around each night to light the candles, his Papa watching closely, guiding his small hand carefully as he gripped the shamash tightly, Wanda whining that she wanted to do it, their Mama promising that she could do it the next night.
He hasn't thought about God in a long time. He hasn't thought about a lot of things in a long time but suddenly the floodgates are open and he's pretty sure he's going to break down right here in the middle of the goddamn room, surrounded by plastic and porcelain Santas. All because of a hannukiyah.
"Is it OK?" Clint's voice sounds from directly behind him and Pietro would curse him out and threaten to put a bell on him if he wasn't so busy trying to blink back the tears that had sprung to his eyes as the memories of Hannukah's past flooded in. "I just thought you and Wanda should have a bit of representation in among all the Santa worshipping."
"It's, uh," Pietro clears his throat, trying to hide the emotion that is making it so hard to speak, "it's great. Thank you." He knows he's failed to hide how much this has affected him, knows it's obvious to anyone with a pulse that he's overwhelmed by this gesture, this stupidly kind and stubbornly thoughtful gesture.
Clint doesn't mention it though, just nods in acknowledgement and leaves him and Wanda alone with a farewell squee of the shoulder.
Stupidly kind, stubbornly thoughtful and damn near perfect.
The gesture, that is.
It's the first night of Hannukah and the others had offered to leave them alone to light the candle and sing the blessings but it didn't seem right to do this alone. Tony promised to be on his best behaviour and Thor was giddy with excitement at the thought of earning a new Midgardian custom.
Pietro lit the shamash and moved to light the first candle, the once familiar blessing tripping from their tongues as if no time had passed at all. Wanda sounded so like their Mother when she sang that Pietro faltered after a few words, a lump of sudden grief lodging itself in his throat, his hand shaking in mid air.
But then there was a solid weight against his shoulder, and a strong, calloused hand was helping hold his hand steady, and a warm voice joined in the blessing, mangling the pronunciation but still heartbreakingly beautiful.
Clint.
Stupidly kind, stubbornly thoughtful and damn near perfect.
Pietro is maybe ready to admit that he's not describing the gesture anymore.