Chapter 9
ANYA WOKE UP TO THE SOUND of Tony Stark's voice cutting through the air like a damn alarm clock. It was loud, grating, and the last thing she wanted to hear after drinking the night before. Her instincts kicked in before she was even fully awake, her body tensing, eyes snapping open.
Something warm was pressed against her.
She blinked.
She was still on the couch. Still in the common room. And Wanda was still beside her.
Not just beside her—Anya was practically leaning into her.
It took her a second to process the fact that she had fallen asleep. Actually, truly fallen asleep. And Wanda—Wanda had fallen asleep too. That part might have shocked her even more. Wanda never slept easily. At least, not from what Anya had known about her.
Beside her, Wanda shifted slightly, her breath catching as she stirred. Her lashes fluttered before she blinked herself awake, and when her gaze met Anya's, a small, lazy smile crossed her lips.
Anya stiffened. She had expected Wanda to make some sarcastic remark or tease her, but she didn't. She just smiled, soft and unguarded in a way that made something strange twist in Anya's chest.
"Morning," Wanda murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep as she stretched slightly.
Anya swallowed. She didn't know what to say to that, so she just grunted in response, dragging a hand through her hair as Wanda sat up beside her.
That was when she noticed the rest of the room.
The common area was alive with movement—Steve and Natasha stood near the coffee machine, deep in conversation, while Sam was bickering with Tony about something completely pointless. Bruce was at the stove, flipping pancakes, and Clint was leaning against the counter, watching it all unfold with a knowing expression.
Anya's eyes flickered over them all, and for some reason, she felt herself relax. It was normal. Just a morning like any other. No one was paying any attention to the fact that she had just had the best sleep of her life on the damn couch.
She let out a breath and stood, stretching her arms over her head before glancing toward the kitchen.
She wasn't much of a breakfast person, but Bruce's pancakes didn't look awful. With a shrug, she wandered over and grabbed a plate, piling a few onto it before—almost without thinking—grabbing another plate and doing the same for Wanda.
It wasn't until she turned back toward the table, both plates in hand, that she realized what she had done.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then she walked back over and set the second plate down in front of Wanda.
Wanda looked up at her, brows raising slightly before that soft smile returned. "Thanks."
Anya just shrugged, dropping into the seat beside her. "Figured you'd be hungry."
Wanda hummed, picking up her fork. "You must've been in a good mood when you woke up."
Anya rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it."
Wanda chuckled, and the sound sent an odd warmth through Anya's chest. She focused on her plate instead, ignoring whatever the hell that feeling was.
The conversation around them carried on like usual—Tony arguing with Sam, Steve trying to keep the peace, Natasha just smirking into his coffee—but Anya wasn't really paying attention.
Her focus kept drifting.
It was the way the morning light hit Wanda, catching the red tones in her hair, making her eyes stand out even more. It was the way she smiled so easily now, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she was amused.
It was the way that, even in a room full of people, Wanda was the only person Anya could seem to focus on.
Anya barely registered the fact that she had started smiling herself.
Across the table, Natasha noticed.
Anya caught the glance out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned slightly, Natasha just smirked—like she knew exactly what was going through Anya's head.
Anya narrowed her eyes. Natasha just arched a brow in response before taking a slow sip of her coffee, clearly entertained.
Anya rolled her eyes and looked away, focusing back on her food. But even as she did, Wanda's laughter filled the air beside her, and Anya found herself smiling again.
The morning continued as usual, filled with idle chatter and the sound of dishes clinking. The Avengers were a loud bunch, but somehow, it didn't bother Anya as much today. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in her system, or maybe it was the fact that Wanda was beside her, making everything feel a little less chaotic.
The rest of the day was pretty chill.
After breakfast, Anya went back to her room to change. She swapped last nights outfit for something more relaxed—jeans and a sweater. It was rare for her to wear something that wasn't designed for combat, but today felt like an exception. Maybe it was the quiet morning or maybe it was Wanda's smile still lingering in her mind.
Hours passed in a blur of nothingness. Anya spent some time in the training room, throwing a few punches at the bag before deciding she wasn't in the mood. Instead, she wandered through the compound, occasionally passing by the others but never stopping for long.
Eventually, lunchtime rolled around.
Anya hadn't thought much about food until she caught the faint smell of something cooking. She followed the scent to the kitchen, where she found Wanda standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot.
No one else was around.
Anya leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment before stepping inside. "Need help?"
Wanda smirked, stirring the sauce, and eyeing Anya who began to approach the counter. "When did you learn how to cook?"
Anya shrugged, grabbing a spoon just to twirl it between her fingers. "I didn't."
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Then what exactly are you offering to help with?"
Anya smirked. "Moral support. I'll stand here and pretend like I'm making something good."
Wanda let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, yeah? And what would you make?"
Anya thought for a second before saying, "Something burnt. Probably inedible. But I'd serve it with confidence."
Wanda laughed again, and this time, something in Anya shifted.
She wasn't sure what it was, but it settled deep in her chest. A kind of warmth she wasn't used to.
She looked at Wanda then—really looked at her.
The way she smiled. The way her eyes softened.
Before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.
"I missed your smile."
Wanda's laughter faded, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. She turned to fully face Anya, tilting her head slightly. "You did?"
Anya nodded, her voice quieter now. "I barely saw it back then... during the time we had together."
Wanda held her gaze, something unreadable flickering in her expression.
Then, softly, she said, "I missed yours too."
Anya swallowed.
Wanda continued, her voice gentle. "And the small fantasies we had. The ones we used to make up just to keep going." She gave a small, bittersweet smile. "They made me smile, despite everything."
Anya exhaled. For a moment, she felt like she was standing in two places at once—the past and the present.
But for once, the past didn't feel like it was swallowing her whole.
The moment passed as Wanda turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce again.
"Here," Wanda said after a while. "Taste this."
Anya stepped closer as Wanda lifted the spoon toward her.
She took a small sip, humming in approval. "Not bad."
Then Wanda let out a small giggle.
Anya frowned. "What?"
Wanda pointed. "You got some on your nose."
Anya crossed her eyes slightly, trying to see for herself. "Did I?"
Wanda shook her head, amused. "Stay still."
Before Anya could react, Wanda reached forward, gently wiping the sauce from the tip of her nose.
She should've thought nothing of it. It was just a simple gesture. But the moment Wanda got close, everything shifted again.
Anya felt her breath catch as Wanda's fingers brushed her skin.
And before she could second-guess it—before she could talk herself out of it—Anya leaned forward and kissed her.
It was soft at first, hesitant. But then Wanda kissed her back, and suddenly, the hesitation was gone.
For a few seconds, nothing else mattered.
No Red Room. No Hydra. No past haunting them.
Just this. Just Wanda.
When they finally pulled away, Wanda looked at her with wide eyes, but there was no regret there.
Then Wanda started laughing.
Anya blinked, confused. "What?"
Wanda grinned, reaching up to touch her own face. "The sauce from your nose got on me."
Anya stared for a second before laughing too.
They had just shared a moment—an actual, real, meaningful moment—and somehow, they'd managed to make a mess out of it.
It was so ridiculous that Anya couldn't stop laughing.
Wanda laughed with her, shaking her head. "Now we both look ridiculous."
Anya smirked, wiping the sauce from Wanda's nose before tapping a bit of it onto Wanda's cheek just to mess with her. "Now you do."
Wanda gasped dramatically. "You did not just do that."
Anya grinned. "I absolutely did."
Before she could react, Wanda swiped her fingers through the sauce and smeared it across Anya's face.
Anya froze. "Oh, you're gonna regret that."
Wanda laughed, dodging away just in time. "Try me."
And just like that, the kitchen turned into chaos.
Sauce. Flour. Whatever ingredients were nearby—everything became fair game as they turned lunch into an all-out mess.
By the time they stopped, both of them were covered in sauce, breathless from laughter.
Wanda looked at Anya, still grinning. "I don't think this is how lunch was supposed to go."
Anya smirked, wiping a bit of sauce from her cheek. "No regrets."
Wanda shook her head, smiling. "No regrets."
Wanda eventually finished cooking, and they managed to eat without making another mess. Anya sat with her, quiet but content, letting herself enjoy the food without thinking too hard about it. But eventually, the moment ended, and Anya felt the need to retreat.
"I'm gonna go change," she said, pushing back from the table. "Smell like tomatoes."
Wanda smiled softly, but she didn't say anything as Anya turned to leave.
As soon as Anya shut the door behind her, she pressed her back against it. Her heart was racing—too fast, too loud, like it was trying to escape her chest. She dragged her fingers through her hair, gripping at the roots, trying to steady herself. But she couldn't. Because Wanda had kissed her. No—she had kissed Wanda, and Wanda had kissed her back. She could still feel Wanda's lips on hers, still feel the way Wanda kissed her back without hesitation. For a moment, it was like nothing else existed—just them, just the warmth, just the way Wanda fit against her like she had all those years ago.
Because the other part of her—the part that had been trained, broken, reforged into something sharp and dangerous—was screaming. You're going to hurt her. It was inevitable, wasn't it? Every part of her was built for destruction, her hands more accustomed to breaking than holding.
She could pretend, for one night, that she was something else, something soft and safe—but it wouldn't last. It never did.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into her palms as she tried to push back the storm inside her. She shouldn't have kissed Wanda. She shouldn't have let herself feel this. But God, a selfish part of her wanted more. A selfish part of her was still standing in that kitchen, still drowning in Wanda's touch, still feeling like maybe—just maybe—she wasn't beyond saving.
She took a deep breath in and reached for the hem of her sweater, pulling it over her head and tossing it onto the chair in the corner, leaving her undergarmet exposed. The cool air against her skin made her shiver, but she ignored it as she reached for a clean shirt.
Just as she grabbed it, her door creaked open.
"Hey, I—"
Wanda's voice cut off abruptly.
Anya froze, the fabric slipping from her fingers.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Wanda stood in the doorway, her expression shifting from casual to something else—something unreadable.
Anya knew what she was looking at.
Her back.
The scars. The bruises, some old, some new. The raised, jagged lines running along her spine, her shoulders, her ribs. Some from knives. Some from whips. Some from things she didn't want to remember.
Anya swallowed hard.
Wanda's face didn't change into pity, but it softened.
Anya didn't know if that was worse.
She didn't need softness. She didn't need sympathy.
She needed—
Wanda stepped back, giving her space.
Anya's chest ached in a way she couldn't name.
"Wait," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
She turned and reached for the door, pulling it open before Wanda could leave.
For a moment, they just stood there. Wanda's eyes flickered over Anya's face like she was searching for something. Anya didn't know what.
But she let her look.
Anya exhaled and shrugged, forcing a small, dry smirk. Trying to make it lighter. Trying to make it nothing.
"You know," she said, "it's hard to forget about your past when it's written all over your body."
Wanda's lips parted slightly. Her expression was unreadable.
"I understand how you feel," Wanda murmured.
Anya's stomach twisted, but she didn't move.
Wanda took a step forward, slow and careful.
Anya should have stopped her.
She didn't.
Wanda reached out, fingers ghosting along the scars on Anya's back.
She was so gentle, like she wasn't just touching skin—she was reading something, something written in a language only she could understand.
Anya stiffened before she could stop herself.
But Wanda didn't pull away.
Her fingers traced along a scar just below Anya's shoulder blade, following it down, slow and deliberate. Anya's breath hitched, but she didn't step back.
She didn't know why.
Maybe because Wanda's touch wasn't cold, or hesitant, or filled with pity.
It was something else. Something warm.
Anya reached back and took Wanda's hand, stopping her movement.
Wanda didn't fight it. She just let Anya hold her hand, fingers curled around hers.
Anya stared at the floor, jaw tightening.
Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.
"I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
Wanda blinked.
Anya exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly.
"I hurt myself every day," she admitted, her voice raw. "Even when I don't mean to."
Wanda squeezed her hand.
"It's okay," she said softly.
Her other hand moved, trailing up Anya's shoulder, then up to her cheek. "You could never hurt me."
Anya swallowed hard, but she didn't pull away. Wanda's fingers traced along Anya's jaw, slow and careful.
Anya's breath caught. She felt Wanda, really felt her.
"I just feel you," Wanda murmured.
Anya didn't think. Didn't let herself overthink it, didn't let herself stop herself. She leaned in and pressed her lips against Wanda's.
Wanda kissed her back as her fingers curled into Anya's hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.
Anya felt something crack open inside her, something she had been keeping locked away for too long.
She let it happen.
She let herself feel.
For once, she let herself just exist in the moment.
With Wanda.