Fireplace
Right. Okay. Vision needs to get it together.
His thoughts are all over the place in a way he didn’t even think was physically possible. He just dropped Wanda off in her room, and she is almost certainly sleeping by now, since she’s drunk and that was… how long ago? He’s pacing.
It’s a little past two o’clock in the morning and Vision anticipates that Wanda should be sleeping until at least noon, given the amount of alcohol she had (and the grinning “gotta be well rested for tomorrow” she shot him as she skipped to bed). So, if Wanda is asleep until noon, Vision presumes it’s appropriate to suggest a six o’clock date start time without making her too antsy. Okay. That gives him… just under sixteen hours to prepare. He can do that.
Or, he can do that if he stops getting so distracted. Wanda likes him. Wanda has a crush on him, which he cannot even believe. This morning, Vision was certain that he’d simply harbor romantic feelings for her forever. He was genuinely content with that fate, but she’s shattered all his plans. It’s wonderful. God, she’s wonderful. And that giggle. If he had a human heart, it’d skip a beat. (He knows that’s a medical concern. He means it in the whimsical way. Whimsy! He didn’t think whimsy would ever belong to him.)
See? Distracted. Vision is distracted. He gives up and sits down in the chair he never uses, compelled by some peculiar impulse to stay still and let himself be consumed. Briefly. He closes his eyes and imagines kissing her, paying close attention to the scenery his brain conjures for him. (His brain is conjuring images of its own accord! Wanda is a force of nature.)
They’re holding hands in his imagination, sitting in front of a canvas, like one of those drink-and-paint courses. Or, no, sitting in front of a neglected board game, completely alone in his room. Yes. That’s the more comfortable place. His eyes flit nervously from the scattered Scrabble tiles to her mouth. She’s clearly staring at him and he feels warm, though he also feels anxious, like he’s all raw and vulnerable and not sure if he’s supposed to cover up.
But she’s still Wanda and he’s still Vision, and they’ve been secure in one another’s company for a long time now. She rests her hand on his. There’s a fire burning in the background, but it dulls in comparison to the one she lights inside of him. Cliché, he knows, but true nonetheless. Wanda tilts her chin up, waiting with parted lips, and Vision slowly, carefully, bravely leans in.
The jolt of euphoria that courses through him is palpable, even though he’s only experiencing it in his imagination. His eyes open wide and he breathes hard, despite having no technical need for breathing. Well, then.
At least he has some ideas.
***
By midday, Vision is standing in the center of a flower shop and finally comprehending the human impulse to bite one’s nails. There are so many options, and so many extremely specific cultural meanings behind each of the options, and some of them are contradictory! White for weddings and funerals, depending on the geographic region? This is complex.
Red roses are standard, but are they overdone? Are they too forward? He ponders. Around him, customers come and go. Vision inspects a few sunflowers, some lilies, and hydrangeas.
“Are you finding everything alright, sir?”
“Oh, yes,” Vision swivels around to face the employee. “My apologies for lingering so long.”
“Totally fine. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“I have a date tonight,” he replies, and the smile that spreads across his face seems to warm his whole body. He’s downright giddy.
“I see,” the employee nods. “Are you trying to be creative with your choice?”
“Yes. She’s truly one of a kind, and I’d like to avoid falling into a repetitive trope.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “We’ve got a wildflower bouquet, if you’re interested. Lots of different kinds, all native to the area.”
“Oh! How wonderful.”
“Indecision at its finest.”
Vision blushes, but the employee leads him to a bundle of flowers tied together carefully with twine. The colors are striking and remind him of looking over a full garden, sparing nothing.
“This is perfect,” Vision beams.
***
In the early afternoon, Vision wonders if leaving flowers in the car was a bad idea while he waits in line for takeout. He promises himself he’ll learn how to cook one day. Today, though, he wants something he knows Wanda will like, so he chooses something she’s mentioned before. He avoids the one Sokovian restaurant nearby and the handful of Italian places, mainly because he knows that she views those as comfort foods, and he doesn’t want to remind her of times she’s been sad. Instead, Vision picks up chana dal from the Indian place that Natasha orders from when she’s in charge of ordering in, because he distinctly remembers that Wanda was eating that particular dish the first time they watched a movie together, after the others had filtered out for sleep or drinking or whatever else they did on Friday nights.
He’s feeling sentimental. It’s nice. He leaves a generous tip. (He always does, but he leaves extra today.)
***
Once he has the table set, the fire lit, and the board games stacked by the couch, Vision looks in the mirror. What attire is appropriate for a date in his room with a person who has already fallen asleep in his bed in an entirely different context? They’ve seen one another exhausted and disheveled, sweaty from missions and spars. How is he supposed to dress attractively? Is he supposed to? What is attractive?
Too many questions. He settles for a sweater Wanda complimented once, deep navy blue against his red skin. Red? He arranges the flowers on the table. Does Wanda want him in this skin? Or did she call him cute because of the human disguise?
He doesn’t have much time to contemplate, because Wanda knocks on his door before he can talk himself into and out of a form change more than once. Red, Vision settles on. He’s an honest person. He has to assume that Wanda knows that.
Physiological possibility be damned, Vision’s heart is in his throat when he opens the door. Is he going to… faint? What’s the deal with this? He’s seen her more than two thousand individual times.
Quantum possibility be damned, Vision’s pretty sure time stops when he sees her standing there, wearing a flowy black button down shirt he’s never seen before, with a smile he’s also never seen before. Not in that particular tone, anyway. There’s something about the way her mouth curls upward that feels new. He’s not sure why. He’s not used to being unable to explain things.
“Planning on letting me come in?”
“Oh! Sorry,” Vision says as he shuffles out of the way. He feels a heat in his cheeks when he realizes he must have been staring. Is it embarrassment? Nervousness? He’s not sure.
Wanda stands in front of him and sways back and forth a little, shifting her weight on either foot while she looks around the room. She turns around and holds a hand out. Vision tucks his hand into hers and he’s shocked he isn’t trembling.
“Flowers and a fire? Are you trying to seduce me, Vision?” Wanda wiggles an eyebrow at him as she tugs him toward the table.
“Oh, no,” he sputters. “Not that I don’t, um… I just, that’s not my intention. Or, uh, I suppose—”
“I’m teasing you,” Wanda smiles, turning to stand in front of him. She gives his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s alright,” Vision replies, unable to think through the nerves crackling in the immensely small space between them.
“You seem anxious. Is everything okay?”
“I am admittedly anxious, but everything is wonderful. I just… didn’t think this would happen, is all. And I’d like to do a good job.”
“I like you, Vis. You don’t need to court me or prove anything or whatever. I already know you and I’m already yours.”
Yours, he repeats in his head. That’s not what he expected to hear tonight, but he supposes he has no idea what he was expecting tonight, and—
“If you want that, I mean,” Wanda continues after a pause. “Fuck. Sorry. I’m rambling and I keep making you uncomfortab—”
Vision has never done this before, but it seems like an appropriate way to dispel her worries. It is also the only thing he can think to do, because the ability to form words is inexplicably inaccessible to him right now. So… Vision takes her head in his hands and kisses her gently, slowly, with a loose enough touch that she could easily pull away.
But she doesn’t. She lifts her hands to his neck and smiles, and he understands why people like kissing. He’d like to be this close to her smile all the time.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on hers.
“I would like to be yours, too,” Vision says.
“Please,” Wanda grins. “And I like it when you’re decisive.”
“I’m honestly not sure what possessed me at that moment.”
Wanda laughs as she tucks her head into his chest, pulling him into a hug. He rests his chin on her head and smiles, idly twirling her hair around his fingers with one hand. Vision feels Wanda take five deep breaths before she pulls away, smiling up at him.
“Wanna tell me how you ended up choosing to have our first date in your bedroom while I eat dinner?”
“Oh, my. I fear you might not like the story if you like it when I’m decisive.”
Wanda laughs and sits at the table, putting her chin in her palm as she watches him settle into his own seat across from her.
“I like it when you’re indecisive, too.”