scarlet shoes

You’re an idiot.

Vision can barely look at Wanda for the remainder of the rehearsal, his inner voice screeching at him over and over again.

You’re an idiot!

What on God’s green earth possessed him to kiss her? What kind of brain aneurysm had he just suffered from? He was pretty sure he hadn’t had a stroke or a seizure, nothing had stopped his body from working. So, what the hell had caused him to push Steve aside and plant one on Wanda?

He hadn’t been thinking, that had been obvious. He had been more concerned about making sure the chemistry between Wanda and Steve looked real and when Steve had straightened out of that first kiss, he’d looked like Vision had asked him to lick a subway pole.

So, Vision had, as he usually did when running into a particular choreographing snafu, jumped in to figure out the problem.

He just hadn’t registered what that meant until Wanda Maximoff was in front of him, her body balanced on the tips of her toes, her lips parted, her green eyes enormous, the pupils growing wider and wider as he dipped his head closer and closer to her mouth.

He’d meant it to be a boring kiss, a standard kiss, a chaste kiss.

Hell, he’d had his fair share of stage kisses, every one of them either a little too dry or a little too slimy while he counted out beats in his head until he could break it.

He was ready for this to be one of those kisses.

However, as he drops his mouth onto Wanda’s, and he feels her body shift closer to his, and her arms rest around his shoulders in a graceful halo, he suddenly can’t remember why he’d spent so long trying to deny his attraction towards her.

She fits so perfectly in his arms, her body shifting like a puzzle piece, clicking into place as he slides a hand into her hair at the base of her neck.

Her hair, his brain registers fuzzily.

Her hair is softer than he expected and he greedily runs his fingers through the red strands, delighted for the first time that she can barely keep it in her hair pins for longer than fifteen minutes.

She is an aphrodisiac and he’s drowning in the feeling of her lips on his.

It’s only because of the music he dimly registers in the back of his head that he’s able to pull away from her, though every fiber of his being protests as his lips part from hers.

Wanda, for her part, doesn’t look affected by him at all, she twists from under his arm and runs back to the balcony on the perfect counts, and he’s left trying desperately to control his breathing as the music stops.

Steve is staring at him far more closely than Vision feels comfortable with and he averts his eyes quickly, coughing to cover up his intense feelings of discomfort.

He bumps Steve’s shoulder gently with his own, attempting to distract the other man. “See?” he asks.

“Oh, I definitely see,” Steve agrees.

“Great,” Vision can hear a world of double meanings in Steve’s voice but chooses to ignore all of them. “Then let’s do the whole dance from the top, and you can show me what you’ve got.”

Steve just nods and crosses back upstage, pausing to help Wanda climb up on the chairs. He whispers something to her and Vision sees her cheeks color slightly.

But she looks completely unruffled by the kiss, if anything, she just seems embarrassed at having to kiss him.

She keeps her head down for the rest of rehearsal and Vision feels horrible.

As the clock ticks closer to five forty-five, Vision dismisses the group early, a pool of guilt bubbling in his stomach, twisting and knotting until he can’t stand the pressure.

“Ms. Maximoff?” he calls as the group is packing up their bags.

Wanda looks up, one pointe shoe on her foot, the ribbons dangling, the other foot bare and pointed gracefully in front of her.

“Would you mind staying for a moment?” he asks.

He sees her swallow, but she nods. “Of course,” she tugs off her second shoe, wrapping the ribbons delicately around the heel and stowing it in the outer pocket of her bag.

He averts his eyes as she slides her legs into a pair of oversized sweat pants, rolling the hem up several inches for her feet to poke out and rolling the waist band down until it grasps at her hips.  

He is uncomfortably aware of her body as she steps closer to him, her hands clasped behind her back, the movement pushing her clavicle forward delicately. She’s wearing a tiny necklace, a little garnet moon on a gold chain.

It distracts him and he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he can face her.

She’s looking at him with a small crease in between her brows, the tilt of her head concerned for his wellbeing. “Are you alright?” she asks.

Was her voice always so musical?

He coughs. “Fine,” he says, sounding slightly strangled. “Perfectly fine.”

“Okay,” Wanda is looking at him strangely. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m fine!” he says.

Now she’s looking reluctantly amused. “If you say it one more time, maybe I’ll believe you.”

Despite himself, he chuckles. “I did have a reason for asking you to stay.”

“I figured,” Wanda says.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says. “I think I might have overstepped a professional boundary and made you uncomfortable.”

She looks startled. “The kiss?” she asks, her cheeks just barely turning pink.

“Yes,” now he can feel his face heating up. “I wasn’t thinking. Well,” he amends. “I was thinking, but only about how to make the piece look the best way it could. I didn’t comprehend what that meant until I was in the middle of it.”

“Vision,” Wanda has raised her hand. “You don’t need to apologize, I know it was completely professional,” she flashes him a smile. “No harm, no foul, right?”

He chuckles again, relief pouring across his shoulders. “Right,” he agrees. “Exactly that.”

“So, no worries,” Wanda’s voice is bright.

“No worries,” he repeats.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Wanda asks.

“Oh,” he says. “No, that was it.”

“Really?” she fixes him with an expressive brow. “Nothing at all?”

“Uh,” he’s genuinely at a loss for what else he might have to say to Wanda Maximoff.

Besides the fact that he really liked the way her body fit against his.

Vision shoves those thoughts to the very back of his head and fixes Wanda with a puzzled expression.

Wanda huffs. “Really, Vision?” she says. “Maybe we should discuss you almost getting into a fist fight in front of the stage door?”

“Oh,” Vision blinks. “No, I don’t think we need to talk about that.”

“Really?”

“No,” he can hear the steel in his voice.

“You basically told me I wasn’t allowed to go to lunch with Hank,” Wanda’s eye flash and Vision can feel his hackles rising.

“I think what I said was: ‘don’t go’,” Vision corrects snootily.

“And I’m still waiting for the explanation as to why!”

“I believe I told you I couldn’t tell you!”

“And why not?” Wanda is moving closer to him.

“Because it’s not my story to tell!” Vision explodes. “Because Hank Pym did nothing to me but I can’t tell you what he did because that would be betraying someone’s confidence!”

Wanda shrinks back in the face of his anger. “Oh,” she says in a small voice.

Vision sighs deeply. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was uncalled for.”

“Is there someone who could tell me why?” Wanda asks.  

Vision opens his mouth, but shuts it quickly. “I’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “It’s not my place.”

Wanda huffs out a breath, but she doesn’t seem mad, just resigned. “Then, if it’s all right with you,” she says. “I’m going to continue spending time with Hank.”

Vision had known she would, but it feels like a tiny stab to his gut anyway. “Of course,” he says formally. “I’m not in charge of your social calendar. You can date whoever you want.”

“Oh,” Wanda’s cheeks flush. “I’m not going to date Hank.”

“What?” Vision says.

“Do I look like I have time for a boyfriend?” Wanda asks. “I barely have time to sleep. Hank would get bored of me within the month.”

“I-,” Vision isn’t sure why he feels relief dropping down his spine. “Does Hank know this?”

Wanda shrugs. “I assume so, he seems pretty up to date with a dancer’s schedule.”

More than you know.

There is a knock on the studio door before Vision can voice his thoughts and they both see Natasha, her face apologetic.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. Again,” she says. “But Pepper’s gone to dinner with Tony and Monica wants to know if you want to come to get some food.”

Something cold drops over Wanda’s expression, Vision can see her shoulder drawing upwards, the tension in them tightening perceptively. “Uh, no,” she says. “I’m going to Pilates before the show.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Want us to grab you anything?”

Vision sees Wanda visibly swallow. “Nope!” she says. “I’m all good, thanks!”

Natasha looks uncertain, but vanishes from the doorway.

Vision feels an overwhelming urge to place a hand on Wanda’s tense shoulders, to smooth out the knotted muscles. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. “Pilates before the show?” he asks stupidly.

“Yeah well,” Wanda keeps her gaze averted, hiking her bag up higher as she walks to the studio door. “No one can say I’m not dedicated.”

***

Vision isn’t sure what has altered in his relationship with Wanda, but as long as he can avoid the thoughts about her long slim arms wrapped around his shoulders, they seem to settle into a shaky friendship.

Romeo and Juliet rehearsals are progressing much faster than his other piece, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Wanda Maximoff might be the reason for that. He only has to look in her direction and see the tilt of her head or the flutter of her fingers and he’s struck with inspiration.

He doesn’t think too deeply into why that is, attributing her muse-like qualities to her talent and excellent posture.

His most immediate concern, is that the gala night is growing closer and closer by the day and he’s still not chosen a woman to dance Juliet.

He’d agreed to the shortlist because he thought his decision to cast Wanda would remain steadfast in his brain, but after watching Natasha, Julie, and Maggie dancing the piece over the course of two weeks, Vision is more confused than ever.

Wanda is a brilliant dancer, and would make an excellent Juliet, he just can’t shake the feeling that choosing her might be a bad decision.

She doesn’t have Julie’s attention to technique, or Maggie’s ethereal beauty, or Natasha’s charming stage presence. Not to mention the chemistry between her and Steve never feels quite right, even as they work on it, over and over again.

Plus, ever since the day they kissed, Wanda seems to have shrunk inside herself. She looks paler than usual and he sees her space out for long periods of time when she’s with her friends, her green eyes caught somewhere far away.

He wants to see the girl from his first week with New York City Ballet.

The girl who he caught dancing in a studio all by herself, uncaring of what she looked like, just dancing for the sheer pleasure of it.

He tells her that, in the middle of rehearsal.

It’s been a bad day all around, he’s having each woman dance Juliet once through, and by the time it’s Wanda’s turn, Steve is exhausted and Vision has a slow headache pounding behind his temples.

There is nothing in Wanda’s eyes as she climbs up on the chair balcony. She flutters and bourrées and smiles, but there’s no light in her expression.

Vision huffs out a breath and stops the music halfway through. “Wanda,” he says through gritted teeth. “What are you doing?”

She tilts her head. “Dancing Juliet,” she answers.

“No, you aren’t,” he says.

“Yes, I am,” she says.

“No, you aren’t,” he says. “You’re doing the steps, but nothing else.”

“So?” Wanda cocks her hip and fixes him with defiant eyes.

“So?” his jaw drops. “So, this is a rehearsal and you should be treating it like a performance.”

“If it’s a rehearsal, why should I treat it like a performance?” Wanda asks. “I’ll perform when there is an audience in front of me.”

“And what am I?” Vision counters. “Am I not your audience?”

She looks him up and down. “No.”

He clenches his fists and takes a deep breath. “You will dance the steps the way I tell you to or I will have to ask you to leave.”

“I am dancing the steps!” she says.

“You are only dancing the steps!” Vision roars and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the entire room take a step back. “What happened to the girl I saw just two weeks ago dancing because she loved it?”

Wanda lowers her gaze to the floor and he sees her swallow. “She grew up,” she says in a small voice before squaring her shoulders and walking out of the studio.

Vision ends rehearsal early, his headache growing to a monumental jackhammer, and finds a dark corner of the studios to sulk.

He knows he should find Wanda to talk. Her behavior is out of character and he thinks he should check on her, as her choreographer, but also as maybe her friend.

He manages to haul himself out of his brooding enough to sneak backstage during the performance, catching the end of In G Major, Steve giving him a nod as he exits the stage, sweat dripping down his face.

Vision sees Wanda exit the stage on the opposite side, her pink stripped bodice and short skirt hanging off her body.

Vision blinks.

Now that he sees her in something other than oversized sweatshirts and pink tights, he can’t help but notice that Wanda looks skeletal. The dim stage lights reflect off Wanda’s face eerily, highlighting the dips and curves of her skin as it hugs her skull tighter than Vision thinks is healthy.

And her costume was clearly made for a girl larger than Wanda, the bodice shifts awkwardly as though it has no substance underneath it to cling to.

He registers all of this in a fraction of a second before he sees Darcy giving Wanda a huge smile that drops into concern as Wanda sways on her feet and nearly collapses into Darcy, who barely catches her on her shoulder.

Vision isn’t sure how, but he makes it to Darcy’s side in less than thirty seconds.

He can only hope he didn’t run across the stage, the curtain still open to the audience.  

“Woah,” Darcy’s blue eyes widen with surprise at his unexpected appearance. “Where did you come from?”

“Is she okay?” Vision demands, gesturing at Wanda who seems to be conscious, but her eyes are fluttering.

“I don’t know,” Darcy admits. “One minute we’re talking and the next she’s got no blood in her face.”

Vision leans gently over Wanda and pats her cheek. “Wanda?” he asks. “Wanda, can you hear me?”

A low, but audible groan escapes Wanda’s mouth and Vision feels a flood of relief. “Let’s move her to Jimmy’s office,” he says.

Darcy nods, wrapping her arm firmly around Wanda’s waist, but Vision knocks her hands aside. “Let me,” he says, sweeping one arm under Wanda’s knees and another around her back, lifting her easily off the ground.

Her In G Major costume sweeps across his forearms gracefully as he scoops her up, and Darcy runs ahead to open the door to Jimmy’s office.

There is a small, blue futon in the corner that Vision lays Wanda across, helping her extend her legs gently. Darcy produces an aged grey and blue stripped throw pillow that she shoves under Wanda’s head before she vanishes. She appears half a second later with a bottle of water, closing the door behind her.

“Wanda?” Darcy says gently.

Wanda’s eyes flutter open for half a second, squinting against the fluorescents. “Mmph,” she mutters.

“You need to drink some water,” Darcy coaxes.

Wanda makes another noise, but she allows Vision to wrap an arm around her shoulder and help her sit up to drink some water.

After a few greedy gulps, some manner of color returns to her cheeks and she shrugs off Vision’s arm. “What happened?” she asks.

Darcy knits her brows together. “You fainted.”

Wanda blinks three times in quick succession. “I did?” she asks.

“You did,” Vision confirms.

“Why?” Wanda asks.

Darcy’s mouth twists upwards. “You tell us.”

Wanda takes another gentle sip of water, pulling her legs into her chest. “I-,” she swallows. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Darcy sits on the futon next to Wanda. “When did you eat last?”

Wanda cuts her eyes to the right. “Lunch, I think?” she says.

“Are you sure?” Vision leans against Jimmy’s desk, extending his long legs in front of him.

“I-,” Wanda looks up at him, her mouth half open. “Yes?”

“What did you eat?” Darcy presses gently.

“A banana,” Wanda says. “And some peanut butter. Hank brought me a granola bar too, but I didn’t eat that.”

Darcy freezes next to her, her blue gaze moving from Wanda’s face to Vision’s. “Hank?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

Wanda nods, oblivious to Darcy’s rigidity. “My friend Hank Pym,” she says. “He’s- oh,” she puts her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, Vision, I know you don’t like him.”

Vision swallows as Darcy’s stare becomes increasingly sharper and sharper.

“Does Hank usually bring you lunch?” Darcy asks, her tone even, her eyes on Vision accusingly.  

“Sometimes,” Wanda admits. “But not always.”

Darcy might as well be throwing knives at Vision; her eyes are so deadly.

He clears his throat. “Sounds like you need to eat something,” he says. “Does Jimmy keep any snacks in here or-,” his voice dies out pathetically.

Darcy stands, dusting off her hands. “Third drawer down,” she says crisply. “I’m going to get Pepper or Monica,” she pats Wanda on the hand. “Back in a second,” she vanishes with one last murderous glance at Vision and he winces.

In the third drawer, Vision finds a whole bag of Goldfish crackers and a small package of Wheat Thins. He tears into the Wheat Thins, holding out a cracker for Wanda to nibble on. She takes it and crunches a corner delicately.

“Do you usually not eat lunch?” he asks and then winces at the bluntness of the question.

Her eyes flick up to his. “More so now,” she says.

“Why?” he asks, handing her another cracker.

She, strangely, snorts. “Like you don’t know.”

He creases his brow in confusion but before he can ask her what she means, he notices her shivering, her body cooling down quickly after the performance. Her small costume doesn’t stop the noticeable goosebumps chasing up her arms.

“Here,” Vision shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over Wanda’s shoulders.

“Oh,” she shakes her head, trying to shrug it off. “No, I’m okay-.”

“Wanda,” Vision scrapes a hand down his face. “Please, take the jacket. I’d rather you not freeze on top of everything else.”

She swallows and burrows deeper into the jacket, pushing her arms through the sleeves. “Thank you,” she says, rolling up the sleeves to take a second cracker gingerly.

The door to the office is shoved opened to reveal Darcy with Pepper at her heels, the latter dropping next to Wanda on the futon, her face creased with concern.

“Wanda!” Pepper says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Wanda says, her cheeks pink from embarrassment. “I just feel a little silly.”

Pepper gives her a side hug, worry pouring off her body.

It is, Vision reflects, the most emotion he’s ever seen Pepper Potts exude.

“Let’s get you home,” Pepper fusses.

“I’m fine,” Wanda insists, though she leans a bit against Pepper as she helps her to her feet. “And didn’t you have plans with Tony tonight?” she asks.

“Oh,” Pepper shakes her head. “He’ll understand if I cancel, you’re more important right now.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, but allows Pepper to lead her out of the office, Darcy and Vision following awkwardly.

At the dressing room door, Wanda begins to shrug out of Vision’s jacket, but he stops her with a hand on her elbow. “Please,” he says. “Keep it. You can give it to me tomorrow.”

“But you’ll be cold,” Wanda protests.

“I have a coat upstairs,” Vision tells her. “I’ll get it before I leave.”

She assesses him with enormous green eyes before nodding crisply and vanishes into the dressing room.

As soon as the dressing room door closes behind her, Darcy whirls on Vision, fury snapping from her body. “Outside,” she hisses.

He follows her meekly out of the stage door, letting the heavy metal thud closed behind him.

The absence of his jacket means the mid-October air cuts uncomfortably through his thin button down.

Darcy is huddled in her oversized sweatshirt, her hands shoved in the pockets, closing her body off. “Hank Pym?” she asks.

Vision swallows. “Yes,” he says.

“And you weren’t going to mention it?” she asks.

Vision chews the inside of his cheek. “No,” he says honestly.

There is a long pause. “Why?” Darcy asks.

“Because,” Vision shoves his hands into his pockets. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Does Wanda know?”

“Not unless he’s told her,” Vision says. “Which I doubt.”

“Is he dating her?” Darcy asks.

“No,” Vision says. “Though not for lack of trying on his part.”

Darcy wraps her arms around her body. “Does Tony know?”

Vision nods. “His contact in London called the first week I was here.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. “You’ve known for almost two months?” Darcy hisses.

“Yes, but-,” Darcy flies at Vision her fists beating at his chest. “Ow, Darc, quit that!”

“I can’t believe you’ve known for two months and haven’t had the decency to tell me!” she yells, punctuating each word with a strike on his torso.

“Woah!” a new voice calls from the plaza and suddenly arms are grabbing Darcy off Vision, pulling her back. “What the hell?”

Tony Stark, his dark hair ruffled and a blue scarf knotted around his neck, holds Darcy’s arms, his face shocked.

Vision collapses back against the building, breathing heavily.

Darcy is spitting and squirming in Tony’s arms like a feral cat. “Let me go!” she says fiercely. “I’m going to kill him!”

“As much as he’d probably deserve it,” Tony says. “I don’t have enough contacts with the NYPD to get you out of jail.”

“I don’t care,” Darcy twists. “Besides, after I kill him, I’m coming for you.”

“What did I do?” Tony protests.

“She knows about Hank,” Vision says, the breath returning to his lungs.

“Oh,” Tony releases Darcy but she just slumps, the fight gone out of her.

“Yes, oh,” Darcy spits. “Maybe it’s something you should have told her immediately. How do you think I would feel if I walked out of the theater and ran into him?”

Vision feels his stomach squirm with guilt. “We weren’t thinking,” he admits.

“Yeah, I could have told you that,” Darcy says.

Tony’s face is apologetic. “Let me just check in with Pepper and then we’ll go get a drink or something,” he says. “Talk about this like adults.”

“No thanks,” Darcy says. “I need to be alone,” she twists on her heel and yanks open the heavy metal stage door, stepping inside quickly, the door slamming shut behind her.

Vision and Tony stand awkwardly outside, Vision valiantly trying to hide the chattering of his teeth. “Pepper’s taking Wanda home,” he says after a second.

“What?” Tony looks up at him.

“Pepper’s taking Wanda home,” Vision repeats. “She got faint tonight and Pepper’s going to make sure she gets home safe.”

“Oh,” Tony’s face falls imperceptivity and he looks at his phone. “She didn’t tell me that.”

“It just happened,” Vision says. “Maybe she hasn’t had time yet.”

“Right,” Tony shoves his phone into his pocket. “Probably that.”

Vision can feel the headache rising in his temples and he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Let me get my coat,” he says. “And then we’re going to go get drunk.”

“Yeah?” Tony looks at him hopefully.

“Hell yeah.”