Wonderland: fell down a rabbit hole, you held on tight to me (‘cause nothing’s as it seems)

Here’s something about his sister that he didn’t not know before, but was starting to re-learn, and really get through his head tonight;

His sister was wild .

He watched with his jaw dropped as Claire and Wanda did various drinking games in the middle of the crowd, people cheering them on. He thought they would stop at the shot competition and go back to normal partying, but that was just the start.

When they did start dancing, Claire and Pietro were closer, but Wanda had a whole group of people, men and women, surrounding her, so they were both winning. The next thing he knew, when he turned his head, Wanda was taking turns kissing three people and two others let their hands roam over her body.

“Is that normal?” He asked as he sucked a hickey onto Claire’s neck, his hand resting on the small of her back and the other tangled into her hair.

“Oh yes,” She answered with a breathy exhale. “A lot of people always want to fuck your sister.” She chased his lips again. “And she’s nice enough to give most of them a chance to make out with her at the very least.”

Pietro shuddered, both at the feeling of his lips on his neck, and at her words.

Ew.

He knew Wanda was very easily desirable, beautiful, but oh how he didn’t want to hear that. He regretted asking, but knew he would have done so again because it was just his older brother instincts, trying to make sure Wanda was alright.

“How often?” because he knew Wanda just stayed at parties too long, sometimes instead of coming home with someone else.

“Most-mhn-most days.” She said. “Ask your questions later; you have my number. Just focus on fucking me right now.”

Wanda reached a hand out through the crowd, pulling Claire by her shoulder. Claire turned, and Wanda kissed her, just the corner of her lips. “Do not .” She chuckled. “You and Pietro almost got in trouble back there for this behaviour.” Claire smiled mischievously, drawing out another chuckle from Wanda. She patted Claire’s back. “Make sure to get to your house at the very least, before you start fucking. I’ll pay for your tab, now go .”

Claire smiled, pulling Wanda down for a longer kiss, drawing a moan out of the shorter woman, which caused Wanda to smile.  They separated.

“Get to the house.” Wanda reminded.

“I will. Thanks for the money-- and for having a very hot brother.” Claire winked. Wanda gagged playfully, but waved them bye as they left.

“You guys just normally kiss like that?” Pietro asked, threading his fingers into Claire’s hair, not tugging, just keeping it there…for now.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Claire responded, looking up at him with a question in her eyes.

“No, no--- Wanda knows who she wants. “ He replied. “And I don’t get tied down. ” He was pretty sure (100% sure, actually) that that wasn’t completely true but he didn’t say it.

Claire smiled. “Good. Neither do I.” She turned her head to check on Wanda. He followed after her.

Wanda was draped around this tall, lean, attractive tan-skinned woman, with soft brown hair coming down in waves and the woman’s hand was up her shirt on her back, while the other was… He didn’t want to think about where the other one was.

At least they were both going to get laid tonight.

“You’re a lucky one, Ms...” He remembered that she never told him her last name, and just stopped there.

“I know I’m lucky; good kisses seem to be a Maximoff trait.”

“Is that so?” Pietro pulled her head back by her hair, and they shared a kiss once more as they exited the club. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth, and smiled smugly when he was rewarded with a whine of pleasure back.

────━▒ ۞ ▒━────

Pietro woke up, feeling sated and still a little bit tired, because of a call. His phone was under the bed, but it rang so insistently that he eventually woke up. He groaned, and got up, turning beside him to wake Wanda.

Then he saw blonde hair on different pillows and vivid memories of the night before filled his mind. He smiled as he ran a hand through his hair, feeling very much proud of himself.

Claire pushed at his arm. “Get the phone.” She mumbled into her pillow.

“What if it’s yours?” He asked.

“I can’t get up.” She said. “My legs won’t work. Get the phone.”

Pietro laughed, and reached down to get his boxer briefs, putting it on under the blankets before he finally got up and searched for which phone it was that was ringing.

He groaned when he realized he’d only gotten about 2-and-a-half hours of sleep; 5:09 AM, his phone read.

Long nights were great, early mornings were not .

He picked up the phone. “What is it, Sam?!”

“Look, your sister’s home late and she’s wasted.”

“What?” He replied. “No, that’s not possible. Her healing’s--”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe it’s not as fast as yours, or she drank more than you do. Probably both, honestly.” Sam said which confused Pietro because her healing was far far faster than his. “But she’s wasted, and I’m nowhere near super-human enough to deal with this. She’s moving in that fast speed she does when she appears behind us. It’s not super speed, but it ain’t normal speed either.” He continued. “Get home soon.”

Pietro huffed, scratching his head. “Alright, fine.” He moved in super speed, blur of blue behind him and got dressed. “I’ll see you later, Claire.” He said.

“What?” She asked. “What’s up? I thought you said that we’d-”

“Wanda’s back at the compound.” He replied as he pulled his sneakers on. “And she’s absolutely wasted. I’m the only other one with powers, and Vision’s--- Honestly, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ll text you later.”

Claire nodded, and slumped back into her pillow, lazily waving goodbye.

────━▒ ۞ ▒━────

When Pietro arrived, it was clear Wanda was drunk. Not just because she was slurring, with her faced flush red, and clearly inebriated. He wondered what she must have drank to end up like this.

Then, while he was thinking, Wanda got up, hands dropping down to her side, and like Sam had said, moved in super-speed. To a human, like Sam, un-enhanced, she could see why he thought she was moving at the same speed as him, but she wasn’t, she was moving slower. Not by much, but enough for him to tell.

Although her speed did seem familiar.

His eyes widened when he realized that that had been close to his current speed during Ultron, before Wanda started training him and ‘oh, I really did get faster. Fuck yeah! Thanks, sestra.’ , he thought.

He watched as she sped to the elevator, and stopped, not quite vibrating in place like he did but almost. Sam took that time to catch up, panting. “Man,” he started, still heaving, bent over, hands on his knees, and eyes squinted close. “Fuck you two. Both of you, with your super-speed and--- just wait for me. Is that so hard? Huh? That so hard? Just wait for a goddamn second! I ain’t no goddamn Sonic the Hedgehog, fu-”

The elevator door pinged open and Bob came out. Bob was a nice guy, rarely ever seen, but everyone knew not to curse around Bob. He was a real nice guy and it was unanimously agreed upon that Bob was to be treated like he was a toddler, when it came to vulgarity. Unless one was comfortable to curse around a kid, then they shouldn’t curse in front of Bob.

So Sam shut himself up.

Wanda entered, humming the tune of a song to herself. He and Sam followed.

Liho approached them, rubbing her head against Pietro’s ankle, before walking off towards her owner. How she got into the elevator again, the speedster didn’t know (probably a lot of patience, staring at the doors till it opened) and didn’t question it. The kitty had taken to exploring the building now, but miraculously, any time that Wanda wanted to cuddle or even said her name, she’d be coming back up in a matter of minutes.

It was actually pretty cool. A little creepy, but cool. Then again, his sister was a witch, so who was he to talk about creepy?

Liho meowed cutely. Staring up at him, with wide green eyes, sharply feline and un-human-like. Wanda stopped and leaned down. Close to Pietro’s feet, or better yet, to where Liho was, holding her close and cuddling the kitty, rubbing her cheek against Liho’s soft black fur.

“God, you’re sooo soo goddamn adorable. I love you so much, kitty.” She whined and cooed. “You’re so adorable. Never change, please. I love youuuuuuuuuu.” And then she began to hum again.

Liho took the gesture of affection quietly for a few minutes, content to let Wanda do as she wanted, and be hugged and coddled. Then she started practically rolling on the floor with the kitty, Sam and Pietro staring at her, and Liho meowed, annoyed.

“Nreow~!!” Liho squeaked, starting to squirm and try to scratch Wanda, but kitty-sick sister that she was, she simply took scratches. And they didn’t heal.

For some reason, that detail stood out to him. They didn’t heal. Her healing wasn’t working? Is that why the alcohol was still affecting her?

“Sestra,” he cautioned. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got the cutest kitty in the world, Piet, you don’t understand.” She slurred. “Liho’s such an angel.”

He blinked. Then the doors opened. Sam and Pietro were trying to get Wanda out lest she destroy the elevator, when his sister caught sight of a particular redhead. She tilted her head dumbly, legs still a little wobbly, and stared.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Sam whispered.

Natasha walked towards Steve, holding a tablet. They must have been discussing mission information, either for the next briefing tomorrow or a mission somewhere soon in the future.

“Oh, wow… Look at her!” Wanda whispered, although using ‘whispered’ was an insult to the word due to Wanda’s lack of control over her volume. She, presumably, was trying to stay quiet and say it only to Pietro, but she was ‘whispering’ less to his ear, and more to his shoulder/back.

“What? Look at who? Natasha? What about her?” Pietro replied. “And shh!!”

“She’s walking - she’s so pretty ! She’s so sedu- sed- se- hot. She’s hot. She’s so perfect, and she’s hot..” Wanda slurred.

“She’s just walking.” Pietro said. “And staring at a screen.”

“I know!!” His sister swooned. “Oh my god, look look, she turned to me.”

Natasha had lifted her head from her tablet, raising a brow at the display. Wanda, barely standing, held up by Sam and Pietro while Liho meowed and cuddled into Wanda.

“Because you’re not whispering, Sestra. She can hear you.” Pietro said, not even bothering to try to whisper anymore, since Wanda already gave herself away.

“She’s soopretty and s’hot, s’look’d greeeeat li’ a’my years li’e, ‘live. S’e… ‘sso ‘retty.” Wanda babbled. “...Was so pre’y, ‘n’ s‘ill is, ‘n’ don’yu thin’ tha’s so noooot fair, Piet? How ‘an someone be so pe’fect in two lif-”

He covered her mouth. “Sestra. What is wrong with you? Are you really, truly drunk?” He asked. “Isn’t your healing supposed to do something about that?”

“Oh, I learned to turn it off. It was getting so pesky, and I just wanted to get drunk.” She said, whispering for once, at an actual low volume. Then she turned her head “Ohmygod Piet Piet! She smiled at me!” Wanda grinned.

Pietro face-palmed, although he was concerned; She turned off her healing? To get drunk? That made him feel a lot more terrified about her habits. If her healing wasn’t there to save her, who knows what she could get herself into drinking that much. She could get alcohol poisoning, she could gain an addiction to alcohol, she could make horrible horrible decisions with the alcohol actually hitting and inebriating her.

She could---

“Di’you kno’ she’s really ‘ettywi’h blon’air? Li’e she’sso beau’ful witttth redhair, but’en…she--- blonde hair, she was soooo--” The rest of her words become inaudible. He’s grown used to understanding her mumbles, no matter how almost-incoherent they become when she’s sober, or even when she was drunk back in Sokovia, but this was just complete gibberish.

Wanda groans and falls over Pietro, nearly toppling them both over.

He sends a glance to Sam. “A little help?” He hisses.

They manage to take her up to their room, finally, but Pietro thinks it’s a little too late now for Wanda’s pride. And self-respect. Which was shit considering his sister was already real fucking low on that.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

Natasha turned to Steve, when the elevator doors closed.

“Well, that was a sight.”

Steve stifled his laughter. “Go easy on her, she seems a little wasted.”

“A little?”

Internally, however, she smiled at Wanda’s adorableness. You didn’t have to be a trained spy to hear most of what she had said, and it was cute. It was cute that Wanda obviously thought she was pretty. It was just - she was just - cute.

Steve pressed the button for the 8th floor, to Tony’s lab.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

After that morning-which-should-not-be-spoken-of, Pietro had practically banned her, done all but stating it outright, from partying - for a set of time, although how long wasn’t really stated - which was… Fair.

(Wanda didn’t particularly want to go out again and risk… Just risk. She still can’t look Natasha in the eye even now.)

She knew he was regretting his choice too, although he wouldn’t go back on it out of his sense of duty as her ‘older brother’, her protector.

Why would he regret a decision that mostly affected her, one would ask? Well, without her coming to parties and clubs, Claire didn’t go out either, or even if she did---and she most likely did---they wouldn’t know where, because Claire didn’t text Wanda her location every time.

To add on to that, the team (Steve) declared that it was ‘wrongful use of Avenger resources to spy on a civilian’. And oh, Pietro definitely missed her. He was either love-struck or cunt-struck. Both, probably, considering the ‘romantic’ gene was in their DNA.

So, here they were, lounging around once more, as they watched 2 Broke Girls, with Liho on the bed with them and Pietro quite literally, hugging Mister Dibbles’ tank. You’d think, that perhaps, for such a clingy and physically affectionate man, he would have gotten himself a pet easier to hug and cuddle with---like Liho---but no. Although, she wouldn’t trade Mister Dibbles for the world, because he’d grown on her, so she supposed it was an understandable decision.

“Wait, if they’re so broke, and Max has so many not-legal tricks up her sleeve,” asked Pietro. “Then why don’t they just visit Caroline’s friends one by one and hold them up for an amount of money that’s small to the millionaires she’s friends with, but big for them that live on the streets?”

“...Because the rich have good security?” She replied. “I mean their carelessness aside, the rich is paranoid. It, like, embeds itself into their DNA when they get a lot of money, and so a lot of protection goes. And if they hear of one millionaire being targeted, then two, then three, they’re gonna start upping that security even more.”

“Okay so what if it was blackmail? I bet you Caroline has so much dirt on them, and Max would be relentless .”

“How? Online? Hackers for hire would take them right out.”

“Letters. Notes. Etc.”

“Private investigators.”

“Hm, so I guess crime wouldn’t have been that easy.”

“Of course not.” Wanda replied. “Especially without powers. The thing you’re proposing? We could easily do it. I could easily do it, and erase their memories after. It’s not like they’d notice a small amount of their money gone. You could vibrate yourself, blur your face, what are they gonna do with that? It’s easy, really, for us. Not for civilia--- This is a sitcom, why are we discussing this?”

Pietro shrugged. “You answered.”

“You asked.”

“You could’ve ignored me.”

The laugh track played.

The alarm---to make known when Wanda’s screen time was over, and when it was officially Pietro’s turn---went off.

Wanda floated the remote over to him. “Your turn.” She said. “What are we watching? Beastmaster?”

“Nah,” he replied, taking the remote from her. “WandaVision.”

Wanda smiled, her lips pulling upwards but her eyes remained steely; detached. She liked watching her show, and seeing Pietro enjoy it, she did, but there were so many reminders… It was hard to continue on as she did.

Nevertheless, it was another chance to see what might have been hers, and Pietro liked it. For deeper reasons, than ‘it was funny’, probably, but they weren’t going to talk about it.

“Previously on WandaVision.” Her voice said.

“That’s you, right?” Pietro said, excited.

“Mhm.” Wanda replied as the recap began.

A startle woke late 60s Wanda. “What was that?” The light turned on via magic, the magical chiming sound making it clear. Then off. Vision remained asleep. Then on. Then off. Vision reached to take off his eye mask.

“Wanda?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Are you using your powers to turn on the light?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Allow me, sweetheart.” Vision groaned as he got up. He turned on the lights, then looked out the window.

“What do you see?”

“Only your lovely rose bushes.”

Wanda shook her head slightly, her hair - her still perfectly styled hair---

“Okay, that I’m jealous of. You were sleeping! How is your ha- how does- can you- Your hair!”

“Shh,” Wanda giggled.

-swaying with her. “That’s all?” A pause. “Are you using your night vision, Vision?”

“Pfft-”

“I assure you, my love. I see nothing amiss.” Vision replied. He turned back towards Wanda. “You have absolutely no reason to be frightened- Oh!” A crash rung out, and he dove for his bed and went right under the covers, pulling it up until it was just under his nose.

“Oh, this is definitely one of my favourites.” Pietro smiled.

Wanda, deadpanned, replied. “You were saying?”

Vision pushed himself up. “Actually, I did overhear a couple of lads at work remarking on a few unsavoury characters settling in the neighbourhood.” He was whispering now. “Now who knows what those ne’er-do-wells might be up to? Robbing houses, vandalizing property-”

“-walking through walls, moving things without touching them.” Wanda replied, leaning in when she emphasized her words.

“Your comedic deadpan timing is impeccable, sestra.”

“Aww, thank you, P-”

“-I’m still jealous of your hair.”

Wanda smacked his head with a pillow.

Vision leaned in too. “Wanda, darling, you can’t be suggesting my colleagues were referring to us.”

Another crash, and the two powerful fearsome Avengers - one being a vibranium probably overpowered (if only he wasn’t pacifistic) synthezoid and the other being the prophesied ruler of the multiverse - flinched and Wanda moved their two beds together, along with the lamp by the bedside and the cabinet it stood on.

“One of us should really determine the source of that sound.” Vision squeaked.

Wanda let her hands fall to her lap. “Yes, one of us should.” She turned towards Vision.

They frightened again, but there was no crash this time.

“Oh, this is getting ridiculous.” Wanda swept her hair to the side. “I’m going to take a look.”

Pietro laughed, then covered his mouth and snickered quietly, wanting to hear everything as it happened.

“ Oh, God. Darling!” Vision squeaked.

Pietro seemed like he was facing the battle of his life containing his laughter. His eyes were squinting, his face was starting to turn a little red, and he looked a little bit constipated, if she was being honest.

She moved the blinds away, with a wave of her hands.

It was an overgrown tree branch hitting at their window.

A pause.

“Well, I think we handled that well.” 60s Wanda commented.

“Yes, I must say. I’m rather proud of myself.” Vision added.

“I’m not letting you live that down.”

“And look how you seized the opportunity to redecorate.”

“It does look better that way, kind of.” Pietro said. “I think you should separate though. I don’t like you and him being that close.”

“He’s… My husband?” Wanda replied.

“Hm…” Pietro narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“Wanda, darling?” Vision smouldered.

“Yes, dear?”

“Get the light.”

“HEY!! HEY, NO!! No, do not get the light! Vision, stay away!”

They dove under the covers.

“Eughhh!!” Pietro whined.

“He was my husband , Piet! I was like - 29 years old! I was a year away from 30. I’m allowed to sleep with my husband.”

“I’m not happy about it still…”

“We were married!”

“Still!”

The lights turned off.

“You’ve literally heard a bit about my actual present time sex life when you came with to the club, why are you acting like a prude right now?”

“I didn’t have to see it be implied.”

Wanda gave him a look.

The WandaVision intro continued to play.

“If I’m correct, everything happening in the animated version is something that the real you guys are doing, right?”

“Yes.”

“Fun.”

They watched in silence as the intro finished, and the show continued.

 “I bring you the Cabinet of Mysteries.”Vision waved his wand.

“The synthezoid is playing the magician and the witch isn’t?” Pietro joked.

“Darling, that’s your cue.”

“Did you say ‘Cabinet of Mysteries’?”

“I said, The Cabinet of Mysteries’.”

 “Oh, that’s my cue. Oh.”

“This will be a funny disaster, won’t it?”

Wanda hummed absent-mindedly, turning to scroll down the E-book she was reading.

“Darling, do all the other acts in the talent show have such elaborate props?”

“Are you kidding? Fred and Linda are building a moat and a fully functioning portcullis and no one even knows why. Let’s keep going.”

Pietro is silent, no comments made except for a chuckle, while he watches.

“-make my captivating assistant, Glamour, disappear.”

60s Wanda posed.

“Glamour?”

Spoke too soon, about the no comments.

Wanda entered the cabinet.

“You really are very dashing.”

“Hmm. Thank you, darling.” Vision rasped.

Pietro made some sort of dying noise in the back of his throat.

Wanda read on.

“This is our home now. I want us to… Fit in.”

“Oh, darling, we do. We shall. 

Pietro awwed quietly.

“And we’re gonna knock their socks off. Especially with you - wearing this.”

He lifted up a suit that…

“No. What? No! That’s - that’s - that’s - Nghh!! No???”

“Oh, that’s actually the rest of your costume.” Wanda replied, sarcastically. She smiled up at him.

Wanda closed her phone and watched with Pietro.

“That’s a swell idea. You tell those tree branches who’s boss.” They kissed.

Pietro laughed in remembrance of the scene that took place just minutes ago.

Another crash. Wanda went out to check.

“What is this? A mystery episode?”

There was a coloured thing on top colourless black and white rose bushes.

“IS this a mystery episode???”

Wanda lifted it. It was a red, yellow, and silver helicopter toy, and it stuck out against every other black-and white thing.

Wanda looked around. Then back to their bedroom window. The branch that had been covering it wasn’t really there.

Pietro leaned forward so much in interest, he half fell off the bed.

“Fuck!” Her twin cursed as he caught himself and pushed himself up with one hand while the other kept tight grip on her ankle - her ankle, again. Why couldn’t he just hold onto the bed? Or anything else while watching WV - to keep him steady and half pull him up too.

“You know my leg isn’t a rope.”

“You know, you could be helping me with magic right now.” Pietro replied.

Neither replied and continued on. Pietro managed to pull himself back to the bed, and moved farther away from the edge.

“Look, it’s the star o’ the show.” Agnes said, abruptly ruining the suspenseful mood.

“Agnes!” Wanda exclaimed-sighed. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 “Oh, I brought my pet rabbit. For your magic act.”

  “Yes, of course! Thank you, Agnes. We will take good care of him.”

While one half of the titular characters was putting Señor Scratchy inside the house, Agnes talked and checked out the mailman.

“Cliché, much. Housewife has hots for the mailman.” Pietro glanced back at her. “And her married neighbour.”

Wanda blushed.

“Ohmygoddidyouhavethehotsforhertoo?!” Pietro spoke quickly.

“Shall we?”

Wanda shook her head unconvincingly while turning her gaze away.

“Oh, we shall.” Agnes dropped her voice slightly.

“Oh my god you did!” Pietro laughed. “What is it with you and being in a relationship with a man, and liking women?!”

Agnes offered her arm for Wanda to initiate touch. Again. Wanda didn’t even turn towards her when she linked her arms with Agnes’.

“I didn’t - I mean, I don’t!”.

Pietro laughed anyway, letting her know she was not at all believed.

Wanda bombed the planning committee meet up.

And Pietro--- could not stop laughing about it.

“Maybe if you put the cookies down?” He laughed.

“I was nervous!”

“Really, how is anybody doing this sober?”

60s Wanda sat. Stiffly. And sober.

Agnes continued to drink from her cup.

Pietro watched as Vision bonded with the others, and squinted when he the gum and watched the animated diagram.

“That… Can happen?” Pietro asked.

“I didn’t know until now. I didn’t watch the show. I certainly didn’t see his parts of it.” Wanda thought back to the memories. “And don’t even get me started on what gum can do.”

“-I feel so lucky.”

“You are.”

60s Wanda stuck her tongue out at Dottie while she was still turned around and couldn’t be seen.

“Real petty.”

“I assure you. I don’t mean anyone any harm.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not above hitting a mean woman.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I might make an exception.”

“No, you won’t.You can’t ignore your morals.” She smiled. “Not like I can.” 

Pietro scoffed. “Okay, now that’s a lie, Mrs. Die-to-get-rid-of-the-Darkhold.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, Mrs. Lagos-was-my-fault-and-was-not-just-a-genuine-mistake.”

Wanda mocked him “nyee, yeah, whatever.”, and Pietro grinned, knowing he’d won the argument

Then the radio started.

“Wanda, Wanda. Can you read me? Over. Wanda?”

“Who is that?” Dottie asked, frightened.

“Wanda?”

“Who are you?” Dottie asked, turning towards 60s her.

“Wanda. Who is doing this to you, Wanda? Wanda? Wanda? Wan…” The radio crackled and sparked. Dottie broke her glass cup. It dug into her hands. She opened her hands, dark red blood on the palm of her hand.

“Dottie!” Wanda gasped. “You… Oh!” She went to get a cloth napkin to help Dottie with her wound.

Dottie placed her unharmed wound over Wanda’s. “Pop quiz, Wanda. How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen?”

Wanda doesn’t answer.

“By doing it herself.” Dottie answers her own question. Then, she leaves Wanda, stunned, hands still up.

“Mystery much!” Pietro wisely backed up before he leaned closer again.

An ad plays.

“-His special lady. And his Strücker.” The man shows a a watch.

“Okay, that was a little bit on the nose.” Pietro tells her. She doesn’t reply, doesn’t know how to tell him she doesn’t remember most of these ads. She really wasn’t in control of her own show. Or, even if she was, to some extent, it wasn’t conscious. If it had been conscious, she wouldn’t have added this in.

“Strücker. He’ll make time for you.” The camera zooms in and shows that the HYDRA symbol is in the watch. HYDRA 1000M it says.

Pietro gasps from beside her, too exaggerated to be real.

A knock at the door interrupts the still mood of the room and quietness (barring the sound of the TV) and so Pietro pauses it right as it is there.

“Training, guys. Time to go.” Steve said, knocking his fist against their door again.

“Ughhh.” Pietro groaned. “Buzzkill.”

“I heard that.” Steve replied.

“You were meant to.” Pietro exclaimed, pushing himself up to stand. He turned to Wanda, as she was tying her hair. “When we get back, we watch BeastMasters?”

“Sure.” She replied. It would be better than watching something that… Highkey… Midkey traumatized her.

“Perfect. Let’s go.” He heads for the door.

Wanda shuts off the TV, hides the CD, and then follows.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

When Natasha falls to sleep at night, she enters the dream world, and welcomes her mind to the memories that she barely manages to keep out of her mind in the morning. Nightmares of pointe shoes, marble, a clean room to train, blood, the weight of a gun in her hand, a man’s rough hand against her skin greet her when her eyes close.

This night, it’s a dream of an explosion, a little girl caught in the crossfire of a fight that never should have been hers, the fault of being a wicked man’s only weakness. This night, it’s a dream of blue eyes, blonde hair, whistles, and innocently spoken words (“We’re both upside down”). This night, the dream realm greets her with a movie of a dream of two little girls she failed to protect, left in the past.

But nothing really stays in the past.

She wakes with a cold sweat, her clothes feel sticky, it takes a few seconds for her to regain her breath, and the cold room she normally feels comfortable in makes her want to escape from her skin. She can feel the gazes of the people she’s failed staring at her in the dark.

“FRIDAY,” she starts. “Turn on the lights, please.”

FRIDAY quickly complies. The lights turn on.

No one is there.

She’s alone. She’s safe.

She’s alone.

She’s alone .

That fact was equal parts comforting and painful.

Selfishly, for just a second, she lets herself think back to the month that Wanda had made a choice, a choice to forsake her own health and safety to protect Natasha from her nightmares every night for a month. Where all nights, she either got peaceful sleep like she hadn’t had before or pleasant dreams that never turned into nightmares to taunt her of her past tragedies.

She didn’t deserve that. But she had it - it was given to her. And selfishly, she wished for it again.

But then memories of the following three months came to her. Blood on ring-adorned hands, a haggard speedster always on the verge of a breakdown, a still body that resembled both peaceful healing and a woman given up on fighting.

No, she does not want that again. Not at the cost that Wanda paid. Not at the cost that both of the twins paid.

She sits up in bed, and wipes her eyes, waking herself and wiping her tears away. They’re always there. A lot of people, some Avengers included, assume she doesn’t cry, assume she doesn’t allow herself to feel a lot, but they’re wrong. She feels, and feels, and feels--- and it all comes out at night.

She throws off her covers and decides to go downstairs, in desperate need of a drink that won’t leave her with a hangover tomorrow.

She boards the elevator, and it doesn’t close. She hums, confused, until she looks ahead and sees scarlet wisps by the door, keeping it open. Then comes Wanda, and she looks… Heartbreaking.

Tear stains on her reddened cheeks, a despondent, practically broken look on her face, sunken eyes, doe blue eyes looking far more green than it usually did, and haggard and tired body language.

She looks up, and meets Natasha’s eyes, and brightens up---forced, she can tell---pulling her lips into a smile. Her smile reaches her eyes, but it still doesn’t hide the pain in her eyes. That sort of raw hurting takes more than a second to push back behind her façade, no matter how skilled.

And Wanda was skilled.

Natasha hurts for her. Knows, just in her heart, that it’s for Pietro’s sake. So he doesn’t see, and worry, and anguish. Almost everything Wanda has ever done has been for his sake. She understands. She used to do the same for Yelena.

“Wanda,” she greets. “Nightmare?”

Wanda blinks just for a few seconds, staring, hand outstretched slightly by her hip, to keep the elevator doors open. Wanda regains her senses and steps in. “Nothing important, just-” The younger woman  swallows, a haunted look on her face, and it’s like looking into a mirror. “-Couldn’t sleep.”

“I get it.” She told the brunette. “I ‘couldn’t sleep’ either.”

Wanda looks momentarily guilty, and it hits Natasha that she doesn’t know Natasha knows. It hits that Wanda still feels responsible for protecting her from nightmares, just because she could, and had before.

She wants to say something; anything, to assuage that guilt in Wanda’s eyes. Tell her it’s not her responsibility, and that she made the right decision in choosing to prioritize herself instead of Natasha. Tell her that she didn’t deserve it in the first place.

But that would mean admitting that she knows exactly what Wanda did for her. She doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It makes it too real. And if it’s real, she’ll never be able to forget---not that she ever really can, even now---that she was one of the causes of Wanda’s coma.

“Where are you headed to?” She asks.

“Training room.” Wanda answers. “Pent up energy.”

She tries not to think about the way Wanda already looks so tired, like she’s been carrying the weight of the world for too long. Like she’s carrying the burden of something that no one else can understand. The same way Natasha knows she looks tired because she feels alone in her burden, because even if Clint is right there to talk, there are just some things---too many things---that she can’t express, that she can’t share the weight of.

“Care to do something a lot calmer?” Natasha asks, her mouth moves before she can stop herself. The words spill out of her like a word vomit. She knows what happened the last time they talked alone, about their nightmares, at a night when they should be asleep. She’s not sure if it’s safe. She doesn’t know if she wants Wanda to make that decision again or to not. “Spend some time with me. Living room. I’ll make the both of us teas and we can just sit and talk.”

“Talk about what?” Wanda asks.

“Everything and nothing.” Natasha shrugs. “We can catch up, or we can talk nonsense.”

Wanda stared at her, then her eyes softened, from wary to gentle and loving--- and that thing again. That thing where she looks past and into Natasha. Sees someone else. She wonders once more, as if she ever stopped, who the woman that Wanda sees through her is.

She doesn’t dare voice it into a question.

Wanda might stop.

She doesn’t want her to.

That look in her eyes, it renders her speechless, and there’s a sort of quality to it that makes her want to keep being looked at that way even if she will always feel  jealous for who the other woman is that deserves such admiration.

“Yeah,” Wanda smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that. If you’re sure-”

“I’m sure.” She feels herself smile back.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

They reach the kitchen, they sit at the kitchen counter, and it feels like that time months ago all over again. Except this time, Wanda pushes away from the counter as soon as she gets her tea, takes Natasha’s hand and leads her into the living room. She settles beside her, almost cuddling into her and Natasha feels a little paralyzed.

She waves her hand---oh god, her hands---her fingers move slightly, in such a controlled way, the nerves and bones in her hand press against her skin, and Natasha turns away. Something about it, controlled and deliberate, seems oddly familiar, but she brushes it off.

Must have just been the way she moved her hands during training.

It’s really a sin for those rings to be on her hand when she’s already---

“Natasha?” The female Maximoff calls. “Are you listening?”

“Hm? Sorry. Yes. I am. I was just thinking about something Steve said before.”

“Oh.” Wanda nods. “Right, so--- uh, do you have something in mind you want to watch then?”

Natasha nods, then shakes her head. “Yes--- I  mean no. No, not really. You choose.”

“Cool.” Wanda smiled, patting Natasha’s thigh briefly. Randomly, Natasha remembers that party when Wanda recently joined. “Pietro and I already watch Wan--- uhh, 2 Broke Girls, and Ultimate Beastmaster. So, let’s watch… Brooklyn Nine Nine!” She chose, genuine light starting to return in her eyes as the thought of enjoying a show---or more accurately, a sitcom, since Natasha had figured out a long time ago that Wanda had a special spot in her heart for sitcoms---with Natasha was enough to battle against whatever nightmares she must have faced.

She wondered how bad it was. Was it about almost losing Pietro? Was it about her time being an experiment? Was it before, living on the streets? Was it the bombing when they were 10?

“I dreamed of…” Wanda started, surprising her. “...this time when I was all alone, no brother, no friends, no teammates or allies. There was just… Me, and my grief, and I did very bad things. I always do bad things, when I’m lost in the dark, with no one to pull me back to the light. So many bad things…”

The younger woman closed her eyes, anguish written on her expression. “I knew I was never meant to be a hero.”

“Hey,” She said, her voice gentler than she had heard it in a long while. “That won’t ever happen. You have the sweetest heart that I know of, whatever you dreamed about, that won’t happen. Pietro’s here, we’re here, I’m here. You won’t be alone, you won’t lose yourself to the dark side, I’ll pull you back. You deserve to be a hero, Wanda. You always have. Even when you were on the wrong side, you were fighting for the people that you thought had been wronged; that’s the sign of a hero.”

Wanda went quiet.

The Brooklyn Nine-Nine theme song played.

She and Wanda turned to the screen and watched in silence.

A few minutes later, Wanda tilted her head. “I’ve never been to a diner.” The younger Avenger said, out of nowhere.

“Never?” She asked, raising a brow at the brunette beside her.

“No,” came the answer. “We didn’t really get opportunities to go there. And I’ve been…busy, since becoming an Avenger.”

The former Russian spy thought of the mornings when she saw Wanda come into the building wearing some pretty scandalous clothing that had let her gripping something extremely hard---at one point in time, it had been Sam’s hand, and she either almost fractured something, or he was overreacting---because of how fit it was against her figure.

She nodded, understanding. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Can you take me?” Wanda whispered, looking up with pleading eyes, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Hm?” She turned towards the other woman.

“Take me.” Wanda whispered against her skin, causing shivers up her spine. “To a diner, to get shitty American foods, like greasy cheeseburgers or--- or sloppy joes. I don’t want to go with anyone else but you.”

She swallowed, and found herself nodding. There was no way for her to say no, not with Wanda looking at her like that, intense, and amused. Then a smirk pulled at her lips.

“You’re cute when you blush.” and Wanda turned away, to face the screen again, as if nothing had been said. She felt heat against more than her cheek; her ear felt especially warm. “I didn't expect that.” Wanda continued, nonchalantly.

The older redhead swallowed and turned to the TV, trying to move past what Wanda had said. Still, though; the memory of Wanda’s smirk, the way Wanda stared up at her. She knew that her blush wasn’t going to go away soon, much to her annoyance.

Halfway through the next episode, the younger woman leaned her head on her shoulder. “Thanks,” Wanda mumbled,  “for promising to be there for me.” And promptly fell asleep.

The former spy willed her heart to steady itself.

Detective Jake Peralta laughed on screen, as if mocking her.

She wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulder, pulling the younger woman closer. She turned the TV off, and leaned her head against Wanda’s, and fell asleep beside her.

────━▒ ۞ ▒━────

While Wanda was out of the building in a party, Sam and Pietro were left unsupervised. Most of the other Avengers in the building were too busy to really pay attention to the two of them, no matter how bad of an idea it was to leave the two of them unattended.

And of course… This inevitably led to a disaster.

“Hey, hey.” Sam nudged him by kicking his legs off the coffee table.

“What?” He asked, looking up from his book ( Dr. Frankenstein’s Daughters by Suzanne Weyn).

“You know how you and your sister pull pranks on the rest of us?”

“Yes,” He grinned. “Do you remember that time with the chair-”

“Oh, I ain’t ever forgetting it. I still haven’t forgiven you for that, you know? You were---still are---a son of a bitch for that.” Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

He remembers with a grin. He had used his super speed, and the curtain pole from his room (which he lost right after, so Wanda had to create a new one because the sun was right at their eyes waking them up).

He inserted the pole under both of the arm-rests, over Sam’s lap, keeping him trapped there. And Wanda had floated the water balloon, with the outside covered in a generous layer of whipped cream that remained steadily attached to the balloon thanks to Wanda, over his head, and Pietro had smacked it against Sam’s head, like when they played volleyball.

In revenge, Sam had tried to stand up but the pole kept him from doing so, but he had already been in the middle of the motion of doing so, and so he fell with the chair still on his behind, water all over him, and whipped cream on his head.

It was hilarious.

“Yes, that was funny.” He grinned to himself.

“Anyway,” Sam cleared his throat. His grin dropped, replaced with a curious expression. “Wanna play a prank on the Avengers with me as your partner this time?”

Slowly, he felt his grin return to his lips. “YES!” He exclaimed, excited at the mere prospect of it. “ABSOLUTELY YES!”

Sam grinned maniacally. “Okay, so here’s what I was thinking…”

He listened with a smile, already imagining it.

────━▒ ۞ ▒━────

So, the plan had went horribly wrong.

Sam’s plan had been simple; keep the bucket on the door, for it to fall on the person who walked through - Tony’s suits were probably definitely maybe (hopefully?) waterproof, so that even if he was the one walking past in his suit, no one would be electrocuted… Probably. And Vision was… Totally waterproof, right? - and Redwing was up there in the off chance that it was Nick Fury or some staff member or agent holding tech, or, oh, god forbid a food delivery man (although it was unlikely they would be allowed up here).

And it sounded simple enough.

Just a few days ago, they made sure to ask Tony---slyly---if his suits were waterproof and spill a glass or two of water on Vision. It didn’t cover everything and there was still a slight risk of possible electrocution but that’s what Pietro was for! What was a speedster for if not for his fast life-saving reaction speed?

However, they were so busy thinking about their tech guys that they didn’t realize something almost as serious.

It went like this:

Sam and Pietro had spent their time in the living room, lounging around, and waiting, with one eye towards the door for their unsuspecting victim to come in through the living room door. Vision kept phrasing through the wall if he needed something, so that was good, they didn’t need to worry about him.

They were watching Pixels , the movie had just recently come out with Adam Sandler and he and Sam both liked his movies.

Then the door swung open and Pietro used his super speed to reach the remote in a blur of blue and pause the movie while he turned towards the door.

Sam was already turning his head the moment he saw a liquid-air-ish-whatever thing of blue touch the air.

The bucket of water dropped down on the person who…walked down… Oh fuck.

It was Wanda.

Hair styled in a way that even Pietro could tell definitely couldn’t have come from herself - maybe her magic? - and makeup on her face… Well… Running down her face, now, and she was wearing very not water resistant clothes that were now completely soaked.

He very vaguely remembered her telling him that she was going to the Salon to get her hair done for the first time, and might have been very much looking forward to it.

Vaguely.

Very vaguely.

Except now, as the water dripped down her hair, and her hairstyle was in complete wet and ruined tatters, the memory seems to be coming to him very vividly at this very moment. And so the fear that accompanies freezes him to his current spot is very much understandable and reasonable.

He’s never known anyone - man or woman - to be happy about having water doused on their long looked-forward-to salon-made hairstyle.

He gulps.

“Run!”

He shoves Sam towards Wanda - it’s fine, she probably won’t kill him. Maybe light maiming but she’d heal him after? - and runs, using his super speed.

“Dude, are you kidding me?!” Sam shrieks. Pietro watches as he tries to run away from Wanda, pushing himself up, but the water pooled under his feet make him slip and fall and it kind of looks like a cartoon scene and he’d laugh, normally, but he’s already left the room by then.

He hits a wall. Literally.

────━▒ ۞ ▒━────

Wanda caught him.

Well, him and Sam.

But.

Sam didn’t run so he got off easy. And by easy, he means he got to leave after half an hour of Wanda switching between screaming at them for what they’d done - her hair long dried again, and having already changed into new and warm clothes - and scolding them for basically everything they could be scolded for.

Pietro was pretty sure she covered everything. He made a list (inside his head). Let’s see, she covered…

1. You might have electrocuted someone holding non-water proof technology
2. Had neither of them watched Carrie? A bucket dropped from a certain height can kill, because a concussion/brain bleed can kill.
3. The force of the water could very well have caused certain injuries too!
4. Did they consider the actual temperature of the room at all? Because it wasn’t the warmest temperature, and-
5. Water dumped on a cold person really wasn’t a smart plan! Hypothermia was a thing and general uncomfortness (wet clothes!)
6. You’ve seen how Sam tripped, what if someone else had been there trying to get to someone else that you pranked?
7. What if the person that you pranked, someone other than me, slipped and hit their head?
8. What if it had been Natasha? Did he even think about that??

Now that he was thinking of it, she was pretty sure he made one or two more points but he’d forgotten those by now, trying so hard not to zone out and pay attention to her that he got lost inside his own head and forgot to actually pay attention.

Then he realized once more, something about it he forgot. She never told him why she was getting her hair done-- why was she wearing a dress?

Had she been about to sneak to a party?

Surely not.

No, she wouldn’t…

Would she?

Pietro was reminded that he didn’t know Wanda the same way he used to. He wouldn’t know what she would do or not.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

Natasha sat on her bed, writing up the mission report for her and Steve’s last mission. It was 2PM, so he had done most of it already, early into the day, but hadn’t finished it, because he’d been busy and asked her to do it. She was busy in the earlier hours, and he was busy in the later hours. It was just how it always went. She hadn’t asked what he was busy with, and he didn’t offer to tell.

Legs crossed, she typed at a fast speed, although she had seen Wanda type and there was something always incredible about watching her fingers move.

Not… Not in that way.

Wanda was just an incredibly fast typer, on any other sort of technology, especially for someone who recently didn’t have much contact with technology. Or if she had, she wasn’t sure how, in a war torn country as a homeless orphan, then an experiment for Von Strucker.

And then her doors opened.

She tilted her head upwards slightly, to see who had come in, and blinked repeatedly at the sight she was greeted with. There, Wanda stood, wearing a red blazer over pristine white button-up, and matching red velvet slacks. She sucked on the tip of her thumb, her other hand holding a cupcake.

She wondered who baked it. Probably Steve. She actually didn’t care; it was however, a thought dwell on to ignore the way the suit hugged Wanda’s figure and how low the heat that she had felt was going, lower than it should be, for sure.

“Wanda.” She swallowed. “Hi.”

Wanda looked up, eyes softening when their eyes met. “Hi.”

She could feel a period of silence growing longer, and spoke before it could become awkward; “What-- what are you doing here? Do you need something from me?”

“Yes,” Wanda husked.

“Go on…”

“Remember that night we watched Brooklyn Nine Nine?” The brunette asked, leaning on the doorframe, and taking another bite of the cupcake in her hand.

“Yes.” She answered. She doesn’t think she’ll ever…forget-- Jesus Christ, Wanda shouldn’t look that attractive with her tongue just briefly poking out to lick her pink lips. “Yes, I do. Of course.”

“And do you have any plans today?”

“No, not… Not really.” She shook her head. The mission debrief could wait another day, it’s not like it was that time sensitive. The mission had just been two days ago. The same two days ago that Sam and Pietro made the mistake of having their prank play out and get Wanda involved. She was honestly a little disappointed she’d been busy being shot at instead of busy watching Wanda chase and scold Sam and Pietro.

“Great! We can go on that trip today.”

Trip?

“Take me… To a diner, to get shitty American foods, like greasy cheeseburgers or- or sloppy joes. I don’t want to go with anyone else but you.”

“Oh. You were serious.”

“Of course I was serious,” The younger woman cocked her head slightly to the side with a small amused smirk. “Why would I not be? Who better to spend my day with exploring the city with anyone else but you?”

She felt her lips pull into a smile, and absentmindedly wondered where the shy woman that had blushed and ran after kissing her cheek. But at the same time, she liked the woman in front of her.

It was like she was finally getting to meet the woman behind all the intense looks; the posture that spoke of power and strength; the scoffs that spoke of knowing better but choosing to keep silent; the confident woman past all the shyness. The confident woman that would appear in odd confusing moments.

There was another side she hid still, yes - the glares of anger and intimidation that sent bolts of heat right down where it shouldn’t; the condescending eyebrow raises; the smirks; the head tilts.

Like how confident she sounded on her second mission ( “It’s not your choice, it’s mine.”), and the way Wanda looks down and makes her blush when she stares at her in that intense all-knowing, all-seeing way that really should make her far more uncomfortable than it does.

That’s not to say that it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, because it does. It does, in the way that she doesn’t like what she doesn’t know, what she can’t find the reason for, and how it brings up emotions inside of her she doesn’t want to deal with. That’s uncomfortable, for sure, but… Not as uncomfortable as it should be.

But she was content to know only just a small bit more about Wanda first. This cheerful, confident side, a side she saw mostly when Wanda was returning from a club, or when they followed her to one.

“Alright,” She acquiesces. “Let me go get a jacket. I’ll join you in the parking lot.”

Wanda smiles, all teeth, and yet somehow, it doesn’t look at all intimidating. (In fact, from what she’s noticed, her tight-lipped smiles can be far far scarier). “Perfect.” She smiles, clapping her hands once. Then, she looks around. “Wear the black leather jacket.” And leaves, as if that’s the end of discussion. Her order it is, the spy thinks, and Natasha can’t find it in her to decline. No desire to disobey choose anything but the leather jacket. She does like it a lot, and it is perfect for the not-too-warm but still somewhat cold weather outside.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

“Okay,” she starts, as she exits the building, pushing her arm through the sleeve of her jacket. “So where do we start?” She asks.

“I found the perfect location.” Wanda smiles. She pulls Natasha closer by the two front belt hoops of her black denim jeans. “Come on!”

Natasha, trying oh so very hard not to find that attractive, quietly nodded along and followed the excited younger woman.

Wanda released her belt hoops and turned around to walk ahead and lead, hips swaying and Natasha wondered if she could last through this entire day with Wanda or not.

Probably not.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

She and Wanda had been to several places, and had long exhausted the day by now. Daylight was fading, the moon now beginning to chase the sun out of the sky. Paint-like hues colour the sky, and Natasha looks away from the empty road in front of her to sneak a glance at the woman beside her.

The road is empty, since they’re not back into the city just yet, and Natasha has driven in worse roads.

Wanda has her head tilted against the window, soft eyes closed, and Natasha’s jacket laid over her like a blanket. The heater’s on, so the jacket serves no purpose at this point but she stirs when Natasha tries to take it away, so it remained.

She’s admired Wanda before, she’s thought it before, but Wanda is extremely beautiful, both to Natasha herself, subjectively, and in an objective way. Her skin, so clear and doll-like, like a perfect porcelain thing of beauty. Her hair, which seemed to flow in a soft curl around her no matter the setting - it had looked just like it too when they were in Novi Grad.

She turns back to the road.

The night tired them both out, Wanda especially.

They spent  about half an hour spent in the diner, chatting about surface level things. Nothing quite significant, filler conversations, really. But with how little they know each other, even the smallest of things are fun to find out about each other.

Then they left, and as they were driving around, after Wanda’s request to not end the day so soon, the newer Avenger noticed an arcade and begged to stop there.

They played for at least two hours, and their prize could be found sat in the backseats of the car. A large, toddler sized, black cat that Wanda insisted looked like Liho, even though most, if not all, prize plushies were made to look identical in a factory and there wasn’t one singular plushie that looked exactly like one pet only. But then again, most cats looked similar.

Then they watched a movie, Inside Out , since they missed the showing of Pitch Perfect 2 . The movie lasted about 1 hour and a half (1h35m, to be exact, not counting the 10-15 minute previews).

Then, Wanda insisted that they go out of the city to look at the stars. She spent an hour talking about the starts, the sort of thing that Pietro used to tell her. Though neither of them knew astronomy very well, to them, the stars were a constant. None of the shapes that Pietro pointed out when they were younger back in Sokovia could be found, so Wanda just went for whatever pattern of stars she could delude herself into believing was closest.

She told her of the story of the lost hunter that fought in a war to make sure that long ago, there wouldn’t ever be kids that were orphaned. And more. Wanda may have been more interested in literary, but Pietro had such a creative mind, and a strong imagination.

And now, after nearly 6 hours, at 8:07 PM, they were driving back, and Wanda had dozed off.

She spared another glance towards the brunette and saw that her head had fallen off of from leaning against the seatbelt, and it was instead digging into her neck, and that couldn’t have been comfortable, so Natasha reached out with her right hand to push Wanda back against her seat and kept it there for the remainder of the drive, both as a way to keep her comfortable while she slept, and to protect her, even if the seatbelt was already there.

When they got back to the compound, Natasha walked out first, and then to Wanda’s door. She didn’t dare wake the tired Sokovian, so she picked up her jacket, and placed it around herself, trying to ignore the fact that it was covered in Wanda’s floral-like scent, or that her body heat remained in the jacket, and was now spreading to Natasha, keeping her warm - it felt like it had just come out of the dryer. That sort of warm.

Then, she leaned down to pick her up under her legs and another under her neck, a princess carry.

 Wanda stirred, grasping tightly onto her shirt, sniffing and taking in her scent before Wanda softened further and nuzzled into her further, then finally going back to the deep sleep she was previously in.

The younger woman murmured something in her sleep - “I’m…rry, ‘Tasha, I’m sorry…‘dn’t m…n to. ” - and it broke Natasha’s heart.

Although, the nickname - she couldn’t decide now whether she liked it when Wanda called her Natalia more or when Wanda called her Tasha.

She carried her to the elevator, ignoring everyone’s stares, and pressed the button for the 5th floor, and headed to the Maximoff’s bedroom. She asked FRIDAY to let them in, and the AI complied.

When the doors opened, Pietro audibly sighed with relief when he saw them. “I thought she was… Yeah, no, of course she wouldn’t… Thank god. I thought she was at a party or something.”

Natasha smiled as she set wanda down on her bed. “We just hung out a little bit is all. Went out to the movies after dinner. Picnic. She told me about the stars you made stories for.”

Pietro flushed red. “Did she?”

Natasha hummed. “Yeah. I’ll leave her there then. I’ve still got some work to finish and I’m a bit tired, so I’ll see you two.”

“Yeah,” Pietro answered absentmindedly. “I’ll see you.”

────━▒ ۞ ▒━────

Wanda’s not the only one who gets nightmares, and although they don’t like to talk about the things that they both know are the source of his nightmares, it’s up in the air, and it doesn’t need to be acknowledged or discussed to be known.

It’s about Wanda.

It’s about what if Wanda’s healing hadn’t been there when she had travelled back into the past?

It’s about the bullets that had torn into her during the fight against Ultron. It’s about the bullet that got her during their first mission. About the life she left after Pietro died. About the Snap, and the sort of world that would have to come without Wanda’s existence. About Wanda, feeling so lost in her grief, and smothered in her anger, that she does something she wouldn’t ever do - attack a child.

It’s about everything related to losing Wanda in every single way possible, and how, because it had happened before, once upon a time, it could happen again. And this time, despite how selfish he sounds, Wanda has kept him alive this time to suffer it.

Sometimes, it’s also about their parents. For every nightmare or two that he has of losing his twin sister, he has a nightmare about the bombing. About the two days that followed after.

And rarely, it was also about their time living out in the streets.

This night, like some nights, it’s about Wanda again.

This night, like some nights, he wakes up from his nightmare with Wanda’s name spilling from his lips, because unlike his twin, he hasn’t had as many years to get used to these nightmares enough to smother the sort of screams that want to come out when you’ve pulled yourself out of it.

(He doesn’t think he ever will, he doesn’t understand how Wanda learned, and knowing that the answer likely won’t be pretty, he makes his peace with not knowing. There’s a limit to how much he can hear of his sister’s sufferings, even if it’s selfish.)

And on these nights when he wakes Wanda like this, she’s right by his side before he’s even realized he’s awake. Too lost in the images of Wanda in a red leather jacket rather than a red witchy-power suit, with bullet holes in her body, blood on her lips, and pain in her eyes. Remnants of a quiet whisper, with a hand outstretched to him ( “help me, Piet…”) and the ghost of a fading touch as Wanda left his embrace, the coldness of a corpse in his embrace.

On these nights, they switch roles. Pietro forgets those 12 minutes, and instead focuses on the fact that he’s not 12 minutes older than his twin, no instead, Wanda is almost 6 years older than him, and he can rely on her.

They could always rely on each other, yes, but it’s different now. He’s not sure if Wanda knows it or not, but, time travelling, losing her kids for something around two years, and now longer, doesn’t - hasn’t - erased the motherly feel that she gives off, especially when she’s comforting people.

With Wanda as she is now, it doesn’t feel like he’s relying on his sister, it feels more like - and this is as weird for him to think as it is to feel - their mother.

Pietro was a Papa’s boy, and Wanda was the opposite. They were similar to their ‘preferred’ parents. Now, Wanda, who has always been fierce and yet gentle like their mother, has the same maternal feel that she did, and Pietro feels like she’s back.

Like the past 16 years after the bomb didn’t happen.

But also like it did, but that’s fine, because his sister’s still here, and she’s there for him in every way, and no matter how bad it got or gets, in the future, she’ll be there. Every step of the way. Even after nightmares. And that’s… Almost better than feeling like Мама was back.

It was a little weird, but he didn’t really think on it.

She grounds him the same way he grounds her. Her hand is on her back, and her soft voice whispers comforts and wonderful lies into his ear, things like ‘it was just a dream’ and ‘it’s okay now’ .

She lays his head on his lap, to brush her fingers through his hair, like they’ve always done to each other during nightmares.

 He can’t seem to remember now, whether this ‘tradition’ started before or after the bombing. Even before they were bombed, the twins still had plenty to be scared of; bullies, the war raging outside, the people they could see on the streets, the danger lurking everywhere.

A war-torn country was a terrifying world for a child to live in.

Maybe that’s why the idea of his sister being there for him was better than his parent. Wanda understood the fear of a child. Wanda was there for every moment of his life. She had his back, he had hers.

It was never the same with an adult. Not really. Even parents.

“What did you dream about?” Wanda asked.

He remembers a wet cough, blood spilling down her chin, and he shuts his eyes tight. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Wanda nods, and keeps running her hands through his hair.

A few more minutes pass, and just as Pietro’s only starting to feel the lull of sleep call for him again, Wanda starts singing a familiar song - a lullaby.

He feels like how he used to when he didn’t know things like war, and death, when he hears the lullaby. It comes as a surprise to him that Wanda knows the words by heart, but then again, she didn’t complain about lullabies and feeling too smothered and being old enough to not need lullabies unlike him.

His eyes close slowly, but just before, he sees Wanda pick up her phone, a question in his mind never makes it to his lips, but it’s a good thing they’re twins, or that Wanda’s telepathic, because she answers nonetheless.

“I’m just texting a friend, Piet. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.”

He falls asleep quickly after that.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

She felt bad. She did! It was an unspoken thing between the two of them that it was just…that after a nightmare, things were better when you woke up to the other sibling still in bed.

It’s just that… This had been days in planning already, or, more specifically, 8 days. Just past a week, honestly.

It had started about two weeks after Pietro had banned her from partying, and while she understood it in those two weeks, things started happening.

Watching the second WandaVision episode had…brought up some feelings she found she wasn’t particularly ready for. About how perfect she and Vision had been; how little control she had over her own actions again during what was practically the happiest time of her life, and how it had resulted in the suffering of others; how Agatha had lied to her so…convincingly; how stupid she had been to believe her; how blinded by her own desire for a picture-esque happy ending that she let…everything that happened, happen.

And then that night with Natasha. Where she was reminded of just how safe she felt with the older woman - of how nice she made everything feel - and how Wanda lost her. She heard it like a broken record playing in a loop, “Natasha’s dead” , and “She sacrificed herself.” , through Clint, through Sam, and Rhodey, and…

And all of yesterday, the dinner, the movie, the arcade, the stargazing, it was all so blissful, that it hadn’t helped either.

It was so hard to grieve people that were there . It was so hard to heal from her pain when the source was-- was only buried deep inside of her now, like a tumour. Like a wound without a physiological cause. It hurt, and yet she couldn’t find proof of it, because the ‘source’ was also outside of her, smiling and walking and there .

It was tiring, trying to decide between grieving and moving on, because how was she meant to do both when the people she grieved weren’t the same people in front of her? And yet, and even worse so, they were.

She couldn’t decide whether or not she was grieving the future she once had with them, the times they once shared, or the person themselves. And if it was the last one, then… Shouldn’t it have stopped now tat they were here?

It was awful and a mindfuck, and she was just…so done.

Hadn’t she been tired enough?

Hadn’t she been knocked down by complex emotions, wave after wave, enough? Hadn’t she fought enough to make sense of her life, of herself, of her emotions, of everything that she was supposed to make sense of?

Couldn’t she just… Not, for once?

She knew it was terrible, and she felt horrible for going through with it, but she knew she needed it. It was an escape, from more than one thing, and it would save her. So many years, in her old life, she hadn’t gotten to escape, but now here it was.

Why shouldn’t she take it?

She was going crazy, listening to all these thoughts, being around all of them, who-who she knows and yet she doesn’t. The cognitive dissonance of her truth, and theirs is so painful, so insane, that she’s sure it’ll drive her insane.

She lost these people. She was grieving them. They abandoned her. She was mad at them.

She also hasn’t lost them. She couldn’t grieve them. They hadn’t abandoned her. She couldn’t be mad at them.

She hadn’t had enough time to work through the former emotions properly, not with the Darkhold and WestView, and Vision, and - then again, she’s reminded, when has she ever had the proper time to grieve anyone? - because of it… Because she never worked through her emotions, having to face the latter ones, new ones, or, past ones with the knowledge that she has, with the new emotions that she has, it’s messing with her mind and it’s just too much.

God, even thinking about what she was feeling and why, was confusing. There was just no right words to sum it up. All of the words she knew just came up short.

So, to make things simple, she needed this escape. And even if it meant that…

She turned her head to look at her unconscious brother, sleeping so soundly, now protected from nightmares with a spell, although it would keep his sleep completely dreamless, unlike if she was protecting him herself, it was good enough.

She took the black sleek coat from the rack and placed it over her shoulder, to create warmth for when she would be walking out on the street until they made it to the club.

She was currently just wearing a normal outfit, a hoodie with sweatpants, and a coat over her shoulder, but her actual outfit, her dress, was with her. Via, magic.

She walked out, and told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not tell anyone she was leaving.

She flew first, and then landed in an alley near the club she and Claire had agreed to meet at.

Claire greeted her at the entrance.

“You sure about this?” Claire asked. “Sneaking behind your brother’s back? This sounds like the start of a very bad series of events, Wanda.”

She waved at Kevin, and Jones as they approached them, they were the other guards that were usually on shift when Riley and Ty weren’t.

“I’m sure.” She answered.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Wanda was drunk off her ass, and someone’s hands were on her body.

It was gentle and familiar, but not the sort of familiar she wanted. They were feminine, but they weren’t even the slightest big calloused.

She turned her head, and met with green eyes, but it looked - off. It didn’t look right. It wasn’t right. Natasha’s eyes were greener. Impossibly greener, and so so breathtaking.

Claire was by the bar, having long been done dancing, because unlike Wanda, she had work, and wasn’t trying to leave her own mind for at least one more second.

She tried to push it away and keep doing what she was doing, but the only thing now registering in her mind was that this woman wasn’t her. No, the real one was in the compound that she had snuck out of. And it didn’t feel right to fuck someone thinking of Natasha. She didn’t want that.

Natasha wasn’t just someone to fantasize about and get under someone else to get over. She wasn’t someone that she could just get out of her system . No, Natasa was so much more than that, and it would never work.

She backed away from the woman, and headed back to the bar.

If she couldn’t get under someone, then… She waved Sam over, the bartender came quicker than Jerry did, since Jerry usually couldn’t leave conversations as fast as Sam could. Difference in levels of experience, and all.

“Shots, please. Fill them to the brim.”

Sam sent a concerned look to Claire, but Claire shrugged beside her so Sam went on to get her drinks for her.

She drank for at least an hour straight, until her field of vision was hazy, until she was so wasted that if she had returned to the compound like this, the last time she made a fool of herself would look like good behaviour. She drank until she was so fucked in the head that everything else quieted and just silently let her be for once.

She could tell because of her empathetic powers (? was it that? Or telepathy?) that Sam was about to cut her off soon, but purely because Wanda could still pretend to be a semi-rational being, Sam set another shot in front of her.

Wanda was currently paying, not with fake money, not with Tony’s credit card, but with something that might be considered ‘theft’. But well deserved ‘theft’. She’d been watching this guy long before she started to get drinks for herself, and he was an asshole to the T. He looked rich enough to afford all the drinks she was buying, so she took from his wallet, magically mostly, and physically whenever he walked by. He hadn’t even noticed yet.

If you asked her, she wouldn’t even consider this theft. The man was probably better off without it. He might learn what he prioritised if he didn’t have such an abundance of…everything

And now, she and Claire were making out. They weren’t going to fuck, they both already knew that without speaking it, but making out was fun. The taste of alcohol still on their lips, they kissed each other like they were trying to breath the other one in.

Then, the alarm that Wanda had set rang. She stopped, and reached for her phone. Shit. It was already 4:40? Pietro started stirring by 5 if she wasn’t there. She did the same, before he died. Well, he - back in the other timeline. The habit still hadn’t fully gone away, and now it was coming back full force.

Twins and all. Similar even in that manner.

She turned to Claire and asked her to call Pietro, to distract her while she went to the bathroom to change. Claire agreed, and for some reason, he actually picked up.

“Hi, is this Pietro?” Claire asked, trying to sound like she wasn’t drunk and hadn’t just been nearly kissed to heaven a few seconds ago. “Oh, good. Hi! I thought you forgot my number.” While Claire talked to her brother, she drank down the rest of her shots and paid Sam for it.

Wanda pressed mute on the call while she pulled Claire through the crowds of people to get to the bathroom.

“Yuh-huh. Right. Oh, is that so? Hm? No, I’m just - busy. I’m-”

‘Cooking’, Wanda mouthed.

“-cooking. I’m distracted.” Claire answered to whoever it was on the phone. “I know it’s late but I like my - oh - oh it’s 4:44? Time passes by fast. I guess I was just really hungry. Was there something you-” Wanda pressed mute, and kissed Claire again, muttering a “thank you” against her lips.

“Oh? Your sister?” Claire said. Wanda’s eyes widened, and she let go of Claire’s wrist as she let her healing work on a slower pace to sober herself up, without taking away her euphoria of bliss and mindlessness too soon.

She was already feeling slightly irritated that hse had to let go of it so soon, but she repressed it.

Claire turned to her, and she shook her head, then went off into the stall.

“No, she’s not here. No, she hasn’t sent me a text. No, of course not. Why, is she gone or something?” It was noteworthy to Wanda, even in her still slightly tipsy state that Claire was good at lying. Suspiciously so. She didn’t care though, to be honest. They both were. Good for them.

“Well, have you left your room? Exactly. Give her like 5-10 more minutes. 4:40 is incredibly close to 5AM, and is a perfectly acceptable time for anything she decides to do, just like it is a perfectly acceptable time to cook right now. Didn’t know you were so judgy, Mr. ‘Answers a call from an unsaved number’. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Okay, I’m hanging up now. Yup. Yeah. If you keep my number saved, maybe we’ll have talked more. Yup. Oh, it’s Risotto. Okay. Okay. Yes. Okayy. Bye, Pietro! I’m hanging up.”

As Wanda finally manged to undo the zipper on her dress, she asked. “Do you like him?”

“He’s cute.”

“Okay, but - Is that all you think of him?”

“This feels like a trap.”

“Who knows.” Wanda shrugged, out of habit.

Claire hummed. “I don’t know. I guess. I kinda do.”

“Enough to date him?”

“Maybe a few dates, I don’t know about a relationship, and dating , just yet. We’ve only met once.”

Wanda put on her hoodie again. She missed Natasha’s SHIELD hoodies. She always used to sleep in them on slightly cold nights, when she would spend it with Natasha, who would give her one every night, despite the fact that she had practically drained the older woman of her inventory of it.

“Do I look wasted?” Wanda asked, leaving the stall.

“Surprisingly not. Even more surprising, because you were . You were half-blacking out, out there.”

‘Enhanced healing’ , Wanda thought, but just smiled at Claire.

“Good.” She turned. “And you know, I think you looked good with your natural red hair. Reminds me of the main character of this book I read. Son by Lois Lowry. The main character was called ‘Water Claire’ and she looked similar to you. Pretty, and redheaded.”

Claire’s eyes widened. “How do you-”

“Avenger, remember?” Wanda giggled, going to the sink to splash her face with water, mentally sober herself up. “Mind-reading. I like to do it to feel better in the crowd, but sometimes I catch your mind too. You think about the past a lot. The girl you were, and a woman named Jade. That is, when you’re not worrying about your brother. He’s adorable , by the way.”

Claire didn’t seem freaked out by it at all, that was why Wanda knew it was fine to talk about it. Claire just went with the flow most of the time, it was rare that she had a strong negative reaction to most things.

“His name is N- Well, I guess I can trust you. His name is Callum. He goes by Nathan now, though. Same with me. Nadia, but… I go by Claire. He’s in college again, finally. Took me a while to get him back in under the same name, but ask them to call him different names and everything.”

Wanda tilted her head at her, as she dried her face using the end of her hoodie. “Is it related to the other woman you think about? The woman whose name you moaned when we were about to sleep together that first night we met?”

“Yeah, Jade. She… She was the sort of once-in-a-lifetime love you find. She was kind of like a fantasy brought to life. She was so…” Claire’s eyes shone. “But she was dangerous. Not just to me, but to my brother. To anyone around me. She was possessive, and jealous, and abusive.”

Wanda wondered, briefly, was she like that? She could be considered it. She was a danger to everyone around herself and therefore everyone around Vision. She knew already that she was a jealous lover. And… She… Well, WestView was nothing if not harmful, and against Vision’s wishes. Would that be considered abusive to certain people’s eyes?

“I loved her, I still love her. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to truly stop, but. I love my freedom, and my brother, a whole lot more.”

She thinks about the battle at the Airport, and at the compound. Taking Vision down to free herself.

“I get it.” She finished up, and turned to Claire, no, Nadia. “Nice to meet you, Nadia. I’m Wanda Maximoff.”

“Nice to meet you, Wanda. I’m Nadia Mitchell”

“For the record.” She said, as she started to walk to the exit/entrance of the bathroom. “I really do think you were hotter as a redhead.”

Nadia laughed. “You think everyone’s hotter as a redhead, because your crush is a redhead. Now go, your brother’s already suspicious.”

“If I wasn’t out of time right now, I would walk you home. Now, get home safely, and text me immediately after. I mean it, Nadia.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. You act like such a mom. I’ll text you. I’ll be fine.”

Wanda nodded, and left.

Their dynamic had shifted a little bit now that they knew a bigger truth about each other. It was unlikely they were going to remain as just party friends , and more likely they would become just friends , in every setting.

 ⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

After parting, Wanda had went off into an alley, to teleport again, and went somewhere a few paces away from the compound so she wouldn’t be detected, and then flew the rest of the way, so she could attempt to make it onto the roof, and hopefully pretend she had been there the entire time because it was unlikely that Pietro had checked there, if he had even left the room to check yet.

Unfortunately, whens he had landed on the roof, she realized, when she landed slightly unsteady, that she hadn’t switched her heels. She moved to take it off, to replace it with sneakers, but then the door to the roof opened; Pietro.

They made eye contact as she held two black heels in her hand, and immediately, she knew she was caught.

“You left…” Pietro said, his voice trembling, with something between anger and pain, or, well, pain was an overstatement, maybe something more like general offence. “And let me wake up by myself after a nightmare , even though you know that you and I - we do not do that to each other - to go to a party ?!”

Wanda ran her hands through her hair, distressed that her entire cover-up had been undone purely because she had gotten too accustomed to walking in heels. “You weren’t supposed to wake up this early. I would have been back before you even started stirring.”

“Is that the only thing you can say?!” Pietro exclaimed, hands gesturing widely, brows furrowed in anger. He rarely ever got this angry, but it was never easy to calm him down when he did. Wanda could feel a headache coming on, before it went away.

Yay for super-healing! (or whatever).

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Wanda said, trying to dismiss it all.

“It is! Your only defense for going against the rules we set for each other, and your ‘party ban’ is that you wouldn’t have gotten caught! Why would you leave in the first place?”

I only feel you

I can’t feel you

We’ll say hello again.

It’s not fair, it shouldn’t be you. But it is.

We’re out of time.

Natasha’s dead.

It’s just gonna drown me.

I have to close it.

Know that they will be loved.

Please don’t hurt us

“I was feeling cooped up. I wanted to just, get some air.”

“And you needed to go to a club for that?”

Wanda started walking, trying to get past him, but he stopped her. “No, no. You don’t get to walk away from this. You don’t get to walk away from me, right now. We are having a conversation about this.”

“I went out, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. There. Talk over?” Wanda attempted to knock his arm down, but just like when Vision was given orders to keep her in the building, he refused to budge. SHe closed her eyes, and then opened them back up to look up at Pietro. “You’re not letting me through.”

“No.” Pietro said. “We - we are going to have a real talk.”

Wanda exhaled sharply. “I’m tired, Pietro. I - I don’t want to talk. I just… I just want to go back to my room. To our room. And sleep. I’m fine. I’m sober. I didn’t fuck anybody. It was barely a night out.” She forcefully smacked his arm down and kept walking.

“No, I told you, stop walking! Listen to me when I’m talking! I told you that you couldn’t go. You’ve been going too much, and it’s become more of a problem now. The last time you went, before this, you were wasted. You could get into so much trouble in a state like that. Why do you keep doing this? What is so good about it that you’re willing to leave me be after a nightmare, when you know we don’t do that to each other, just to what? Be in a club, with sweaty people, and foul odours?”

Wanda shut her eyes tight. The voices were coming back right around, berating her for the same things that Pietro was yelling at her for. But worse. Meaner, and more exhausting.

“I-I just… I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? I’m gonna go to my room. You can either calm down, and go to our room with me, or you can just… Not. And find another room. There are plenty of guest rooms all around the building. Or you can share with Sam. Or Steve. I don’t care. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I won’t.”

And she walked off, leaving Pietro fuming behind her.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

At 5:30 AM, while the rest of the team, including herself, was having a good breakfast, with Steve at the kitchen again, Pietro practically stormed downstairs. A scowl on his face, he asked where Sam was.

“Hey, hey - what happened?” Steve asked, just before Pietro stormed off out of the room.

“Wanda, she-” Pietro ran a hand through his hair, and huffed. “She’s being so- so difficult. She went to another party, and she was just so- she’s in our room right now. She kicked me out, telling me not to come back until I calm down sa if it’s my  problem that she snuck out while I was asleep when I told her that her partying was a problem.”

For about 5 minutes, Steve and Pietro ‘talked’. And by talked, Natasha meant that Pietro complained, and Steve listened, replying every now and then.

“Did you try to go into the room?” Steve asked.

“I did. She wouldn’t let the door open.” Pietro answered. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. thought the door was broken because Wanda refused to let go of the door. With her magic, I mean. She’s still my twin, and an empath, she could tell I hadn’t ‘cooled off’.”

Sam came into the room.

Natasha focused on her breakfast, as concerning as Wanda’s behaviour was, it’s not like she wouldn’t have done it for no reason.

━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━

It was 11:41 PM, Pietro was sharing Sam’s room (he didn’t want to be all alone in a big room like the one they had, it was too isolating for someone who spent every moment of his life sharing a room with somebody), and most of the Avengers that slept (therefore excluding Vision and sometimes Tony), were already asleep.

Natasha wasn’t, though.

And Wanda’s behaviour, shutting down on Pietro, then literally shutting him out, continued to bother her. Steve had tried, this afternoon, sometime around 1PM, saying that he should get Wanda something to eat, but F.R.I.D.A.Y claimed the door was still ‘broken’ and refused to open. Even with sheer force, the door didn’t budge for Steve. The handle almost broke though.

So, Steve, after leaving a message to Wanda behind the door, just gave up and left.

Since no one else was going to try and it wasn’t likely she was going to sleep soon; She decided to give it a try.

She went up to their floor and stood in front of the door, gathering herself for a second before she knocked, going over possible ways this could go. To her surprise, the door opened and F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t even have to be addressed. That wasn’t something she had expected.

Wanda was curled up, looking smaller than she had ever before, her blanket around her, covering everything but her face. She looked like a turtle--- even more so because of her wide doe eyes, looking up at the TV, watching another sitcom.

Community .

How many sitcoms Wanda knew and had watched, Natasha didn’t know, and anyway, that’s not what she came in here for. Still, it was a good starting point.

“Is the sitcom good?”

“That’s not what you came here for.” Wanda replied. The door closed behind her, scarlet lighting up the room for a second. She hadn’t even turned her head toward Natasha.

As a spy, trained to handle people in ways that made sure they didn’t know they were being ‘handled’, she didn’t even need to think too long and hard before she decided on what to say first.

“No. But…we don’t have to talk about it. If you don’t want to.”

Wanda inhaled and sighed out her the breath she took in. With arms still inside her blanket-like shell that she was all but buried in, she could only gesture with her head to the spot beside her. “You should sit.”

Natasha walked ahead and complied.

“Was it worth it?” She asked.

“For a bit.” Wanda shrugged. “Wasn’t, in the end. Never is. It’s hard to find something long-term for this.”

She turned to Wanda, instead of verbally asking what she meant.

“It’s easy to forget everything when you’re only focusing on the music, and someone’s hands are on you, a stranger who doesn’t know you; doesn’t know the fucked up things you could do. You’re on a similar page to them. It’ll just be a fuck. You won’t ever have to learn about each other..” Wanda continued. Natasha thought of Claire and their easy confessions of making out with Wanda, of the way she saw Wanda dress, on the days she came home when everyone was awake, or when she was going out at some late hour. She thought of hands on Wanda and felt strangely and irrationally irritated. “It’s like a stronger version of sitcoms. Except in sitcoms, there’s always a happy ending. But I know already; I don’t get those.”

“That sounds pretty pessimistic for the girl who refuses to buy books with sad endings. Except for that one book by Taylor Jenkins Reid.” Natasha teased.

“It’s just realistic.” Wanda said, instead of joking back. “I don’t have to think about anything except for the present in a club. Just, the next shot, the next song, the next dance - the next fuck.”

“So it was all just to forget, then?” She didn’t ask what it was Wanda was trying to forget. She knew she wouldn’t have liked it if she was asked that.

“Yeah. He doesn’t get it. Not like you do.” The soundtrack played, and Wanda started watching the show again.

“Wanda…” Natasha started. “Why did you let me in, but not Pietro?”

Wanda took some time before she answered, but eventually, she  turned toward her, shaking off the blanket so it rested on shoulders instead, and she could take her hands out to rub them together in a show of nervousness.

“I know you.” Wanda answered.

Natasha surged forward and pressed their lips together. Wanda kissed back, quickly, easily. Their mouths moving in tandem, like this wasn’t their first time together.

Wanda pulled back, hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

Blue eyes stared into green.

“Are you sure?”

Natasha nodded. “I want to help you forget. Who understands that better than me?”

Wanda smiled. “No one.” And she initiated the kiss this time.

- (Skip from here if you don’t want to read smut, that’s probably subpar) -

It got heated from there. Her hands slid from Wanda’s neck and cheek, and both slowly caressed down her body, till they were on the younger woman’s small waist. She spoke against the younger woman’s lips. “Move.” She muttered.

Wanda’s whimper was cut short by another kiss. The blue-eyed woman pulled her hands away to shed her blanket from her shoulders and sit on Natasha’s lap. Warm hands - always warm - were on her neck, thumbs stroking the lower part of her cheek.

She moved her lips past Wanda’s mouth, and the woman, as if knowing what she had decided to do, moved her head back to expose her neck and allow her to have easier access.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this, pretty witch.”

Wanda laughed. “Not longer than I have.” Her fingers pressed tightly against her shoulders, sure to leave bruises later. Bruises she could look at later and admire. A sign of Wanda’s desire. Then, Wanda leaned forward to whisper a quiet reply, solely for fun. “Not a witch.”, her voice had dropped an octave, and Natasha felt hyper-aware of her soft lips so close to her lobe, her hot breath testing her patience.

She continued to focus on kissing and sucking at the Sokovian’s neck, enjoying the way that it made the brunette quiver in her grip.

“Fuck, Natalya. Please. I don’t want to wait.”

She felt her breath hitch, at her name, at Wanda’s begging, at both.

Then Wanda took off her sweater, leaving her in a red embroidered bra and the hint of a matching set, peeking under her sweatpants, which had lowered slightly due to all the movement.

“Fuck, dorogoya , you’re so-...” She trailed her hand up to the other woman’s back, hands on the clasp. “May I?”

“Please, please, Natalya.” The brunette’s Sokovian accent appeared briefly, just to curl around her name. It was almost as delicious a sound as her moans.

She chuckled and took off Wanda’s bra. Stiffened pink nipples and firm breasts greeted her. She wrapped her lips around one, then delighted in the moan Wanda let out. She felt a hand on her head, pressing her closer.

“Mhn, yeah, just like that.” Wanda cooed.

She felt a strange sort of warm sensation, like fire, spread through her and then eventually end with a throbbing between her legs. She’d… Praise never…

She decided not to think about why Wanda’s praise had gotten to her so much.

Wanda lifted her hips off of her lap to take off her blue sweatpants. After some struggle, Wanda just sat back down and waved her hand.

Natasha, despite her focus being higher above, clearly felt the difference in sensation. Warm, soft cloth, against her skin, turned to soft supple skin instead. She looked down and saw that Wanda’s pants were off. Definitely magic.

She lifted Wanda up by her hips. Adorably, the woman squeaked. She placed her down on the bed.

She was right about the matching set, at least.

She was aware she was still fully clothed, but that was alright, she could tell by the look in Wanda’s eyes, that wouldn’t be the case for that long.

Wanting to keep the sight of Wanda in her red embroidered underwear, she kept it on and slid her hand under instead.

“Fuck, Wanda.” She moaned. “You’re so wet, dorogoya .” With long fingers that she had always been proud of, especially during times like these, she eased into Wanda, one finger first, enjoying the younger woman’s tightness and the ease with which she could do this because of how aroused Wanda was.

Wanda bit her lower lip, eyes flickering upward, a long drawn out groan slipping from her lips that had Natasha shifting her thighs, to accommodate for the dampness she could feel that was without a doubt, the sign of her ruining her panties.

She added another in, just as Wanda opened her lips to speak, enjoying the broken grunt that came from the woman under her. “Fuck, Nat- God. You’re so good.”

She pressed her thighs closer together, while she set a steady, hard, and fast rhythm. Wanda made her desires for this night clear, and she wasn’t going to fall short of it.

She’d always been an over-achiever.

She pressed her palm against Wanda’s clit, watched her whine out loud in pleasure. A hand came to her hair, grasping tightly.

Satisfied with what she had already watched of Wanda, she moved down, until her breath graced Wanda’s thighs and the way her muscles twitched with every exhale.

She stopped momentarily, to pull Wanda’s underwear down, leaving her naked. She found the noise of displeasure that left Wanda’s mouth cute , she hadn’t stopped for even a full minute and yet Wanda had already pouted.

She entered two, then three fingers, in, soaked in Wanda’s slick wetness and pressed the flat of her tongue against her clit.

“Oh fuck, oh my god.” Wanda cursed.

She couldn’t help but smirk against the Sokovian.

“You’re so good,” Wanda moaned out. She nearly faltered. “Nat- faster- f- fuck. Mhh!” Obediently, she complied.

Wanda’s grip on her hair tightened and grew slightly more forceful, while the other clung tightly to the blanket underneath them. She clenched around Natasha’s fingers as she came, with her back arching, her chest pointed up toward the roof, and her mouth open in an ‘O’-shape.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

There was something that Wanda had noticed.

When she came down from her high - and oh, what a high it was - there was a distinct thing about Natasha, how she reacted to certain words that was starting to tip Wanda off.

She pulls Natasha upward, hands on her cheek. She feels an urge to kiss her softly, but that would be too telling. And anyway, that’s not the point of this night. Feelings weren’t what this was for. This was pure desire, and an unhealthy need to escape.

So she escapes, she flips them around, and unlike Natalya, who had to actively start things, she moves immediately downwards, leaving kisses here and there. She waves her hand without thought, knows that unlike her other bed-partners, she doesn’t have to hide a single thing.

(That’s a lie, she’s always keeping something from everyone.)

She then realizes maybe she shouldn’t have done that. The mere visual of a naked Natasha, her hourglass figure, the scars, her full breasts, (and she doesn’t even dare to look any lower just yet), might just be too much for her.

Nat starts to shift uncomfortably, so Wanda feels no regret when she says, “You’re so beautiful, Natalya.” She knows Natasha likes that. And she likes it too. It reminds her of all the trust that they built in each other, even if it may not be the same in this life. “The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

Natalya shifts, again, uncomfortable in a different way, she can tell. So she leans down and latches her mouth around Natasha’s clit.

Natasha bucks her hips forward, but barely. Always too controlled to let her body react strongly.

Wanda licks upward, her tongue collecting Natasha’s tangy-sweet taste. She’s aware that a lot of things aren’t like whatever people imagine things to be. It either fails expectations, or could never be as good as one thinks it is. It’s rarely ever exactly as expected.

And it feels like, to her, that after all her fantasizing, and her wet dreams, this should be falling short. Her expectations were so high up, and yet now that it was happening, it still exceeded expectations.

Natasha exceeded expectations.

She creates a pattern, lick, suck, and occasionally, tease her tongue at Natasha’s entrance. She feels the way that Natasha’s clit hardens even more under her ministrations. She licks side-to-side, then back to upwards. She finds the spots that make Natasha make the loudest sounds.

Then, just as she feels that growing pleasure telegraphed to her (people in the throes of passion were very very loud with their thoughts, which made sense, of course, who would keep their mental barriers up when they were getting fucked well enough to climax?), Natasha speaks. 

“Wait, wait, Wanda. Wanda, no. I can’t-” A feeling comes to her, the fear of a lack of control, the need to establish dominance again. Telepathy may be easier to block off now, but not her empathetic powers, never that.

She pulls away, and ignores the way that Natasha bites her lower lip (which are now slightly swollen from all the kissing) to stifle her whine. “It’s okay, Natalya.” She says. “It’s okay. You can trust me. You can let go.”

“No, I-” Natasha lifts her head slightly, and they lock eyes. She takes a deep breath. She lays her head back down. “Okay.” There’s still apprehension in the air, still nervousness that she can feel coming in waves from Natasha, but also trust . So much of it that it leaves her mouth dry.

She ignores how it makes her feel, and moves back down between Natasha’s legs.

She smoothly inserts her tongue into Natasha, and starts slow, then faster, and harder, and eventually, because Natasha was already close to her peak before, she tastes her orgasm, coming quickly, and coming hard.

Natasha’s moan comes out loud, almost stifled, but too sudden to be, and her voice breaks in the middle of it.

She licks her lips, as Natasha gets her breathing back in control.

“You did so good, solntse. ” Wanda whispers, moving upward to pepper Natasha’s face with kisses. “You were such a good girl, you did so well. You’re so beautiful.” Natasha melts in her arms, and Wanda finds she has even more emotions that rise up with that action, that she has to ignore.

It’s a good thing she has years of experience.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks. Natalya nods, almost desperately.

When they part, Natasha tells her “I’ve never… I- I’m usually always on top. I’ve never cummed before as the bottom.”

“First time for everything.” Wanda hums. She’s not ignoring the sign of trust that that was, to give herself over to someone for the first time, and still feel good and safe enough to come, but she doesn’t know how to acknowledge it. Doesn’t know how to respond. So instead, she kisses her neck, and her collarbone, then moves slightly downwards, and kisses, and sucks hard, to leave a bruise, then smooths it over with her tongue. “Do you think you can go again, dorogoya ?”

Natasha stares back at her…and nods.

“Good girl.” She smiles wolfishly, and moves lower, wrapping her lips around Natasha’s nipple, tracing circles with her tongue, using her teeth to bite lightly, while her hand moves downward.

She soaks her finger in Natasha’s slick, and thanks younger her for learning the guitar, not that she already wasn’t good with her fingers, between her years of sexual experience, and her magic, but, more practice has never been bad.

Natasha’s hands move upward to grip her arms, and her nails dig into Wanda’s skin, sure to leave wounds later on, but Wanda spares half her focus to making sure her healing doesn’t stop it.

She wants everything that Natasha will give her. Including the wounds and the bruises and the hickeys.

Natasha stiffens for a second when Wanda nudges her nose against her clit, and then she comes a second time. Shorter time than the last, but she must have been sensitive.

She licks and sucks her fingers clean, and Natasha clears her throat. 

“You know.” Natasha starts, breathing somewhat heavily, but she’s getting it under control a lot faster than Wanda knows she could’ve. “I really had you pegged for a bottom.”

“With the way I move my hands?” She smirks. “That’s your fault.” She leans down to kiss her.

The level of trust that Natasha’s giving her makes her feel euphoric, almost lightheaded. She has so much power, and she can practically do anything, but she’s never felt as… special as she does now.

Natasha’s hands move all throughout her body, then end up between her legs. “Again?” Natasha whispers.

She nods eagerly.