Chapter 26
Vision is a coward.
He’s officially accepted it.
In fact, he’s ready to print it on a t-shirt.
Because he’s hiding behind a tree.
Well, tree is a generous term for the tiny, spindly stick he’s attempting to squish his broad shoulders behind.
He’d like to think he’s not ashamed of the fact that he is hiding while he waits for Tony to say goodbye to Pepper, but in reality, he knows he’s being stupid.
After all, he’s a grown man.
Why should it matter if Wanda sees him?
It’s not like he’s following her. It’s not like he’s doing anything unsavory to her.
He’s waiting for his friend to say goodbye to one of her friends at her place of work.
A completely normal, human thing to do.
So why is he standing behind a tree, ducking his head as a large group of dancers cross the Plaza, flicking his eyes under his lashes to search vainly for long red hair?
He doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels a swooping drop of disappointment in his gut when the group passes without any familiar faces.
If she wanted to talk to you, she knows how to find you, he tells himself firmly.
A tap on his shoulder causes him to jump, his arms pinwheeling as he twists around, half expecting to see green eyes blinking up at him.
Instead, he’s face to face with Tony, a huge grin spread across his face, his features relaxed. “Why are you standing behind a tree?” Tony asks conversationally.
“I’m not hiding!” Vision blurts and feels his face flame.
Tony smirks at him. “I never said you were.”
“Well, I’m not!” Vision leans against the tree with his arms crossed. The poor thing can barely hold his weight, the thin trunk leaning precariously to the side causing him to wobble dangerously before he’s able to regain his balance. Tony’s smirk grows. “I just don’t particularly enjoy watching you exchange spit with Pepper.”
Tony’s eyes dim slightly. “I thought you liked Pepper now.”
“I do,” Vision allows. “But that doesn’t mean I want to watch you trying to touch her tonsils with your tongue.”
Tony makes a face at the visual image. “That might be the most disgusting thing you’ve said all week.”
“Thank you,” Vision shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are we getting a beer or what?”
Tony’s face morphs back into its smile and he gestures for Vision to follow him across the Plaza.
“Uh,” Vision’s eyes dart around, a few stragglers on their lunch break dashing across the Plaza. “Do we have to go that way?”
“The bar is on 55th street,” Tony answers.
“Can’t we go this direction?” Vision gestures to the left, where the opposite block cuts around the Met Opera House.
“That’s at least ten minutes out of the way,” Tony says.
“We could use the exercise,” Vision argues.
Tony narrows his eyes. “You run a dance company and my girlfriend thinks I’m a perfect physical specimen, I think we’re okay.”
“I’m going this way,” Vision announces, walking away without checking to see if Tony follows.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony jogs to catch up, hopping in front of Vision to stall his forward momentum.
“What?” Vision asks in exasperation.
“Your need to avoid the studios wouldn’t have anything to do with a particular red headed dancer, would it?”
“No,” Vision answers, too quickly. “Of course not.”
“Uh huh,” Tony says knowingly.
“I wasn’t even thinking about her,” Vision lies.
“Great,” Tony answers. “Then you wouldn’t be bothered to learn that she quit her job last week.”
Vision’s heart stutters. “What?”
Tony is casually studying his fingernails. “Wanda quit last week,” he repeats.
“Wanda quit?” Vision says.
“She doesn’t work here anymore,” Tony confirms.
“But- why?” Vision is feeling a bit like he’s been knocked in the stomach, all the air has flown from his lungs.
Tony grins. “If we walk the normal way, I’ll tell you.”
Vision doesn’t bother to answer; he brushes past Tony, keeping his eyes straight forward as he crosses the Plaza.
When they’re settled in a couple of outdoor chairs, the cool metal pressing against Vision’s back comfortingly, the early spring air warm against the open neck line of his button down, Tony leans back and gives him a grin.
“Okay,” he says conversationally.
“Okay,” Vision repeats, looking down the sidewalk at a pigeon trying to eat a little girl’s pretzel.
“Ask away,” Tony says.
Vision blows out a disgruntled breath. “You’re a little shit, you know that, right?”
Tony chuckles and beams at the waiter who arrives with their drinks, a beer for Vision and a whiskey on the rocks for Tony. “I’m just having some fun,” he says.
“You’re having too much fun,” Vision mutters and takes a swig of his beer for courage. “Okay,” he says when he surfaces. “Why did Wanda quit?”
“Pepper says it’s because she was beginning to hate her job,” Tony answers.
Vision waits but when Tony doesn’t say anything else, he feels himself deflate. “Oh.”
Tony looks to be fighting a grin as he lifts his whiskey. “But Pepper thinks it’s because of you.”
Vision chokes on his spit. “What?”
Now Tony is definitely grinning. “It’s all speculation, obviously.”
“But why?”
“Darcy was helping your HR department with hiring and she sent the company an email last week, asking them to apply to be teachers at your school,” Tony shrugs. “Wanda quit a couple of days later.”
“What?” Vision can feel his eyes growing larger by the second.
“Yeah, man,” Tony clinks the ice in his glass. “The whole company got an invite offering them an interview.”
“But-,” Vision can feel his heart racing. “I didn’t authorize her to do that! Oh my god, that’s like a huge legal breech, shit Agnes is going to kill me!” his head shoots up and his eyes are blazing. “Why the fuck would she do that?”
Tony is taken aback by his reaction; his grin has slid off his face. “Shit, V, it’s not as bad as all that.”
“It is, actually,” Vision pulls his phone out. “God, I’m going to have to email my lawyer. Do you know how much I hate emailing my lawyer?”
“Hey, woah,” Tony grabs the phone from Vision’s hands. “If you haven’t been sued for it yet, then you probably won’t be, so just calm down.”
“I am calm,” Vision snaps.
“Let’s focus back on the important part,” Tony says soothingly. “Wanda.”
“How is she the important part?”
“Because, you fucking idiot, you’re so in love with her that you sent Hank Pym to work at the Royal Ballet and made a deal with Agnes to choreograph a full ballet next fall.”
Vision places his head on the table. “I’ll get over it.”
“But what if you don’t have to?”
***
Wanda is a coward.
She has officially accepted it.
Hell, she’s ready to tattoo it across her forehead.
It’s been almost a week since her dramatic exit from the New York City Ballet and since then, she’s visited three different museums, walked the highline, gone to three restaurants she’s been meaning to try for four years, and spent a particularly warm day stretched out in a patch of sunshine in Central Park.
All in the name of avoiding that blond elephant with the truly incredible shoulders that stomps along behind her in a relentless rhythm:
Vision.
Vision.
Vision.
She’s arriving home from her day in the park, a large hat on her head and her shoulders pink from the sun when her phone rings as she fumbles for her apartment keys, juggling her large bag stuffed with an outdoor blanket, lunchbox, sunscreen, and two romance novels. She manages to answer the phone as her fingers touch the cool metal of her keys, buried all the way at the bottom of her bag.
“Hello?” her voice is breathless.
“Have you gone to Brooklyn yet?”
Wanda rolls her eyes, inserting the key into the lock. “Hi, Pepper,” she answers. “I’m doing great thanks, how are you?”
“Is that Wanda?” the phone is yanked away from Pepper and Wanda can hear Natasha’s voice. “I’m putting it on speaker, Pepper!” there is a shuffling noise and then Natasha whines. “Wand, do you know how starved I am for gossip? Now that Tony and Pepper are disgusting and perfect again, I’ve got nothing to focus on!”
“Isn’t Steve dating the new girl working the box office?” Wanda kicks off her sandals.
“Oh,” Natasha’s voice has lost some of its cheer. “I mean, yeah.”
“Well-,” Wanda begins but Pepper cuts her off.
“You aren’t changing the subject, Wanda Maximoff,” she growls just as Natasha says. “We want to know why you haven’t jumped Vision’s bones yet.”
“Nat!” Wanda protests, filling up a glass with water, her throat suddenly very dry.
“Mhmm,” Natasha sounds pleased with herself. “And I’ve decided I’m living vicariously through you, at least until my right toenail grows back, so I expect some juicy details.”
“You’re nosy,” Wanda informs her.
“And you’re going to be out of money soon,” Pepper fires at her. “So have a little courage and at least try to get a job. Even if you don’t kiss his face.”
Wanda groans and flops backwards on her bed. “I don’t think he wants to see me.”
“Are you insane?” Natasha snorts. “He’s been wild about you since the night you sat next to him at Darcy’s party. Have a little faith.”
“He hated me when he first met me.”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate,” Pepper says sagely.
“And how would you know, Ms. Perfect Relationship?” Wanda grumbles.
“I am wise beyond my years,” Pepper answers.
“You should have Facetimed her,” Natasha says. “I want to see her face when you tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Wanda asks before the hair on her neck stands up. “Oh god, you’re engaged, aren’t you?”
“What?” Pepper sounds startled. “No!” there is a smacking sound and Natasha lets out a startled “oof!”
“What was that for?” Natasha asks.
“You’re making this sound like a huge deal!” Pepper answers.
“Well-,” Natasha says.
“Someone just tell me what the fuck’s going on,” Wanda complains.
“She’s testy,” Natasha mutters.
“I’ve got a date with a bath bomb and some aloe for my shoulders,” Wanda says.
Pepper groans. “It’s not even that exciting at this point. Vision was here, at the studios.”
“Oh,” Wanda answers, feeling the air escape her lungs.
“He was waiting for Tony,” Pepper says, but her voice sounds far away. “Tony said he was surprised that you’d quit.”
“Tony told him?” Wanda asks, horrified.
“I mean, yes?” Pepper sounds surprised. “It wasn’t supposed to be a secret, was it?”
“I-,” Wanda curls her arms around her knees. “What did he say?”
“Tony said he sounded surprised,” Pepper answers gently. “But I don’t think they talked much about it.”
“That’s-,” Wanda swallows. “That’s good, I guess.”
“Incoming,” Natasha says and there is a shuffle.
“Wanda?” Pepper’s voice is low. “We have to go it’s time for rehearsal, but we love you!”
“Love you too,” Wanda mutters before the line goes dead.
As frustrated as she is, her fingers tingling and all the relaxation from her afternoon vanishing, she can admit that Natasha and Pepper are right about one thing.
She’s running out of money.
Fast.
***
Vision stares at the little black numbers on his phone screen, the green call circle mocking him.
All you have to do is say hello, he admonishes himself. Ask her how she’s doing. Maybe invite her to dinner.
His heart is pounding, his thumb hovering over the circle.
“Come on,” Tony had said “You should just call her, V.”
“I don’t even have her number,” Vision had answered snootily.
He should have kept his mouth shut because twenty-four hours later, Tony had texted him a number and the words “you’ll thank me later”.
Vision’s not ready to thank his friend, in fact he’s ready to murder him.
He needs to focus on his next class, he has twenty twelve-year-old’s about to arrive in his studio and all he can think of are the tiny numbers that will draw an invisible connection between himself and Wanda.
Maybe he should text her.
Just a “hey.” Or a “How are you?" or maybe even a “This is Vision and I think you’re beautiful can we get dinner?”
His stomach rolls and the studio door flies open, his class pouring in.
He shoves the phone as far away from himself as he can, deciding to worry about it later.
***
Wanda exits her third interview of the day for a receptionist position at a boutique gym on the Upper East Side.
It had gone about as well as all the other interviews. As someone in her twenties, she knows it’s unusual for her to have never interviewed for a single job in her life, her dedicated schedule for the last few years making it impossible for any other job or prospect of a job.
This interviewer had at least given her more than five minutes of their time before they’d politely asked her to leave.
She flops on a bench near Central Park and throws her folder of resumes next to her, the paper woefully thin, just one job credit listed.
“I’m a mess,” she groans into her hands.
She knows there is a solution.
A solution that is growing closer and closer by the second.
She’d paid rent the night before and while she still has enough in saving for a couple more months, it’s tighter than she feels comfortable with, and is going to require eating a lot of ramen.
Hands shaking, she pulls out her phone and scrolls to the email from Vision, the one that had landed them all in this mess, locating the phone number to call to schedule an interview.
She takes an enormous breath and clicks on it, holding the phone up to her ear as it rings.
“Brooklyn Dance Academy,” a pleasant woman’s voice says.
“Uh,” all knowledge of words flies from Wanda’s head. “Hi. I- my name is Wanda.”
“Hello, Wanda,” the woman says patiently.
“I, um, I’m a dancer with the New York City Ballet. Or was, I guess, I-.”
“Are you calling for an interview?” the woman asks, taking pity on her.
“Yes,” Wanda feels relief course through her veins.
“I can slot you in tomorrow at two, if that works for you,” the woman says.
“Two is perfect,” Wanda answers. “Thank you.”
“Please bring a resume,” the woman says.
“I will,” Wanda says.
“See you tomorrow.”
“You too,” Wanda hangs up, her fingers shaking, her heart pounding.
***
“You have another interview tomorrow,” Mrs. Friday calls from her desk as Vision leaves for the evening.
“What?” he stops. “I thought we hired the last teacher.”
“Milly booked a job with the touring production of Cats last week,” she answers. “So, we’re short one teacher. Besides, this poor person sounded so desperate, I promised we’d give her an interview.”
Vision runs his hand over his face. “Fine,” he says. “What time is it?”
“Two,” Mrs. Friday says.
Vision groans. “Fantastic. You know that’s my lunch break, right?”
“It’ll take you five minutes,” Mrs. Friday answers. “And I’ll get you a sandwich when I go out.”
Vision clops to the door, the evening air blasting his face as he wrenches it open. “I hope this girl isn’t a waste of my time.”
***
Wanda twists right and left, wondering if the sundress she’s put on is really appropriate for a job interview. It covers all her bits, but the neckline does dip a little lower than she thinks might be interview acceptable.
And why does she care so much? She likely won’t even see Vision, if she gets the job, he probably won’t even realize she’s working for him until he sees her name on a payroll, months from now.
Even with that depressing thought, she fluffs her hair, runs some lipstick across her mouth, and spritzes on some perfume before leaving her apartment, her resume clutched in her sweaty hands.
Outside, spring has begun to take root, the trees unfurling green leaves, small flowers peeping out from the grass. There are people everywhere dressed in summer clothes, timidly showing their arms and legs for the first time since September.
Wanda fidgets on the train, her fingers dancing across her thighs and drumming against the metal poles as she switches trains to the F, her feet tapping the disgusting floor of the subway.
When she emerges in the sunshine, she takes a huge breath, ignoring the people who scramble around her, and she walks as calmly as she can to the school.
Where it was lifeless and skeletal in January, as Wanda approaches the school, she hears laughter and music trickling from the building. Through the largest front window, she sees a class for toddlers, their faces screwed up in concentration as they attempt to follow the instructor’s feet.
The front door opens with a pleasant ding and Wanda beelines to the front desk, ignoring the eyes of parents as they sit around the lobby.
There is a woman behind the desk, furiously typing on her computer, her dark hair piled on top of her head, a pencil stuck within the curls. She has small rectangular glasses perched on her nose and her brows are pulled furiously over her nose.
“Uh,” Wanda clears her throat.
The woman barely looks up. “One moment please.”
Wanda takes a small step back and twists her fingers around her resume nervously, her eyes darting around the room, sure that at any moment she’ll run into Vision.
“Okay,” the woman removes her glasses and squints up at Wanda. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Wanda, I’m here for the interview?”
“Oh!” the woman’s eyes light up. “Yes, of course.”
“I know I’m early,” Wanda babbles. “I just don’t trust the trains and-.”
The woman waves away the concern. “To be early is on time. Just take a sit for a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Wanda swallows and sits in one of the chairs that lines the waiting room, her eyes darting around at the parents who sit on their phones, reading magazines, or staring into space.
There is music trickling through the walls. Wanda recognizes the Dance of the Swans from Swan Lake and maybe even the Chocolate Dance from the Nutcracker.
She settles back in her chair and crosses her legs, her heart calming.
A door down the hallway opens and suddenly a large group of children spill into the lobby, chattering excitedly, smelling like sweat.
The noises swirl around Wanda comfortingly, and she smiles as she watches a tiny girl in a pale pink leotard greet her father enthusiastically, her blond hair smoothed into a delicate bun at the nape of her neck.
Then she hears a sound above the chatter that causes her heart to freeze in place.
“The two o’clock here yet, Mrs. Friday?”
Oh god.
Wanda peeks from under her lashes, thankful for the bustle around her that masks her from him.
Maybe she can get out. Maybe she can sneak out behind a group of children leaving for the day and he’ll be none the wiser. But even as the plan flits across her brain, she hears the woman says. “Yes, she’s over there.”
Wanda takes a deep breath.
“Did she get here early?” she hears his voice get closer. “Then she’s already doing better than half of the others-,” he breaks off abruptly as he sees her. “Wanda?”
***
Vision had pictured the moment he would see Wanda again over one hundred times.
It usually included him dropping to his knees and begging for her forgiveness. It usually included him making a grand speech that ended with her in his arms. Never did It include him struck dumb, completely speechless, and dressed in sweaty workout clothes, his entire intermediate dance class standing around watching him.
He’s is surprised his feet are still planted on the floor as he blinks down at a familiar pair of green eyes, her red hair draped around her shoulders like a curtain of fire.
She’s wearing a sundress, he registers faintly. A dark red sundress with tiny white polka-dots across the surface, her shoulders bare and pink, as though she’d been in the sun recently.
“Wanda?” he repeats.
Her cheeks are red, the color sweeping delicately across her freckled nose. “Hi,” she whispers.
“What the h-,” he manages to catch himself, awareness crashing around him, twenty-four eight-year old’s chattering next to him. “Uh,” he coughs. “Why don’t we talk somewhere else?”
She looks relieved, like she’s happy he hasn’t tossed her out on her ears and nods, swallowing hard, her elegant throat bobbing. “Sure,” she manages.
Mrs. Friday gives him a thumbs up as he passes and he tries not to roll his eyes at her.
This has to be some kind of elaborate ruse set up by Tony and Darcy and maybe even Pepper. There’s no way Wanda is actually here to interview for a job. Perhaps she’d been tricked into being here, or told that Darcy would meet her for lunch. Or maybe she’d been informed that Vision was working with the New York City Ballet and she needed his help to get her job back.
Maybe she was here to ask for money.
With each theory more depressing, Vision leads Wanda into an empty studio, the one he’d found her in back in January, and he clicks on the lights.
She turns back around to him and crisscrosses her fingers together, weaving them into a basket nervously.
Vision closes the door.
Wanda stays silent.
“What are you doing here?” Vision asks when the silence stretches too long for comfort.
“I-,” Wanda’s brows pull together. “I’m here to interview.”
Vision snorts. “Yeah, right.”
She rears back. “Excuse me?”
“That was just a prank, right? Why are you really here?”
“What?” Wanda looks genuinely confused.
“Tony or Darcy set us up for this right?” Vision asks. “Darcy told you to meet her here and now she’s nowhere to be found.”
Wanda narrows her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not actually here to interview,” Vision says and he sounds desperate to his own ears.
“Yes, I am!” Wanda fires back.
“No, you’re not,” Vision shakes his head. “You can’t be.”
“And why not?” Wanda places her hands on her hips.
“Because you don’t need this!” Vision answers, his voice louder than he intended. “You don’t need me.”
“I thought Tony told you I was unemployed,” Wanda says.
“He did,” Vision nods. “But that doesn’t mean you should stoop to be a teacher.”
A flash of irritation crosses Wanda’s face and Vision feels his cheeks pale. “Wait!” he stutters out. “That’s not what I meant!”
“And what did you mean?” Wanda asks icily.
“Just that-,” Vision swallows. “You’re too good for me, Wanda Maximoff. You’re too good for this school.”
Wanda’s expression settles into a curiously blank expression, her eyelids lowered, her lashes covering whatever emotion is in her eyes. “Why,” she begins slowly, her feet moving towards him. “Do you think you are the one to decide what’s too good for me?”
He swallows. “I’m not,” he says lowly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume,” she’s even closer to him now, the creamy expanse of her chest in his eyeline as he keeps his face lowered to the floor. Her delicious citrus smell dances across his nose temptingly.
“If anyone in this room should be apologizing, it’s me.”
Vision’s chin jerks up, surprise rolling down his spine. “What?”
Wanda’s lips are tilted in a half smile, her green eyes unsure. “After the way I treated you? After what you’ve done for Natasha? For Pepper?”
Cold irritation darts down his spine. “Who told you?” he asks. “Was it Clint? Steve?" Wanda is shaking her head. "Was it Monica? I thought she of all people could keep a secret.”
“No,” Wanda shakes her head and pieces of red hair skitter around her jaw. “I, um. The pieces weren’t adding up so I made Natasha tell me. In the middle of a performance.”
Vision groans a laugh and takes a step away, walking to the large windows overlooking the back of the building. “You do enjoy talking through a ballet.”
“Only when I have something important to say,” Wanda answers.
He snorts.
“I guess,” he can hear her getting closer. “I mean, there’s nothing I can say that will truly convey how thankful I am for all you did for Nat, and for Pepper-.”
Vision shakes himself. She’s here to thank him. Of course, she just wants to clear her conscious because she’s a good person. He feels himself deflate.
“I-,” he twists his head and her green eyes are right there, her warm body close enough that if he leaned back just a few inches, he’d be pressed against her. He swallows. “You have to know,” he says. “I mean, god, you must already know, I did it all for you.”
He watches her eyes widen and her plush mouth drop open. “What?”
Maybe she didn’t know.
“I love you,” he blurts and then winces against the blunt declaration.
Wanda isn’t moving, her face is frozen, but he sees her hand reach up as though to cup his cheek, but stop, her other hand grabbing it from the air and pulling it back down to her waist.
It’s that movement that sparks the tiniest flame of determination in Vision’s chest.
“Wanda,” Vision turns so he’s facing her full on, their bodies only inches apart. “You-,” he shakes himself. “If you thank me, don’t let it be for anyone but yourself. Because that’s why I did it. Because you deserve someone so much better than me.”
There’s a glow in Wanda’s eyes, a green fire that begins to burn as she gazes up at him.
“If you still feel the way you did back in November, tell me,” Vision takes a deep breath. “I’ll obviously respect that and I can start to- move on,” he hates how his voice breaks on the words.
The silence stretches between them and Vision steps backward, his heart splintering. “Right,” he says. “I’ll, um-,” Wanda’s hand grabs his and he freezes at the contact, her soft skin a silky heat against his palm.
“Wait,” she says and her voice is low. “I- just give me a second to gather my thoughts.”
Vision rocks backwards, keeping his hand in hers and wait, watching the play of emotions cross her face.
She takes a deep breath and flicks her eyes up, raw, unfiltered feeling flashing through their depths. “Vision,” she says slowly. “I think I hated you when we met.”
He’s so taken aback, his mouth drops open, her words the exact last thing he expected to hear.
“I thought you were arrogant,” Wanda continues. “Rude, snooty, and rich. Enjoying the power play you had over everyone else. And then I met Hank Pym and he only reinforced those feelings,” she’s begun to brush her thumb across the back of his hand, small, sweeping strokes that light a fire deep in Vision’s belly. “But then,” Wanda tilts her head up, and Vision realizes her lips are only a fraction of an inch away from his, her breath blowing across his mouth in light gusts. “You had to go and blow all of my preconceived notions away.”
Vision blinks. “What?”
“I know,” Wanda’s other hand is ghosting up his side now, her fingertips raising goosebumps as it journeys up towards his shoulders. “You had to be sweet and caring. You had to be shy and socially awkward and just so fucking adorable,” her hand is wrapping around the back of his neck, her fingers winding in his hair. “And you know what the worst part is?”
Vision can barely move his head to shake it, he’s so focused on her skin against his.
Wanda leans in so close that her lips almost touch his as she whispers. “I had to go and fall in love with you.”
***
Wanda has once heard joy crossing one’s face described as a sunrise breaking forth from the horizon, light lifting each feature until they shine from within.
Vision’s face in that moment eclipses any sunrise she’s ever witnessed.
Her heart is still pounding from his words, from the heat of his body, from his smell twining its way into her every pore until she wants to toss herself into his arms and never let go.
But she finds she doesn’t have time to think about anything else because he suddenly swoops both of his arms around her waist and yanks her against his hard chest.
“Thank god,” he murmurs reverently and his lips crash down on hers.
His mouth is soft, the contours of it fitting against hers perfectly, as if this was their three hundredth kiss and not merely their fifth or sixth.
His tongue licks across the seam of her lips and she gasps, opening her mouth to his invading tongue as it dances across her teeth in a deliciously ticklish way.
She scoots her body even closer to his, pressing eagerly against his chest as she tangles one hand in his hair and traces his bicep muscles with the other. He groans as she catches his bottom lip with her teeth and sucks, and she smiles triumphantly.
He growls, the sound rumbling up his chest and shoves her up against the nearest wall, his hands catching her thighs, lifting her feet off the floor. She wraps her legs around his waist as he finds a particularly sensitive spot on her neck that causes her to see stars.
“Vis,” she moans in his ear, the sound potentially embarrassing if she hadn’t been so hopeless caught up in the feeling of his teeth scraping across her jaw.
“God,” he growls in her ear. “I love it when you call me that.”
“Vis?” she gasps out, arching into him.
“Yes,” he’s pulling down one of the straps of her dress, following it with his mouth. “I couldn’t let you know that this was exactly what I wanted to do to you. That whole day, really, but especially when you said my name.”
Wanda gasps, attempting to muffle the noise against his mouth as she runs her fingers against the hem of his t-shirt, his abs buttery smooth against her fingers. His stomach muscles jump at her touch and it causes a flutter to race down her spine. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought I repulsed you,” he breathes. “How could I not?”
“You were so, oh god, sweet that day,” Wanda squirms and Vision rumbles against her. “And then the whole Natasha debacle happened and I thought you wouldn’t ever want to talk to me again.”
“And I thought,” Vision seals his mouth over hers. “That you were so mad at me for allowing him to do that to Natasha.”
Wanda pulls away with a pop, the color high in her cheeks. “We’re idiots,” she says.
Vision leans his forehead against hers. “We are,” he agrees.
His mouth is kissed red and his hair is an untamable mess from her hands. He looks so deliciously rumpled that Wanda can’t help the shiver that races through her body, causing her to squirm against his hips.
A pained look crosses Vision’s face and he grasps her waist with his hands, stilling her movements. “Wanda, darling,” he says, dropping his head to her shoulder. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to be able to walk.”
A hot shudder runs through Wanda’s lower belly and she drags his head up to look at her. “That can stay,” she says.
“What?” he asks.
“’Darling’,” she answers. “You can call me that whenever you want.”
His eyes get impossibly darker and he catches her mouth in a heated kiss. “Darling,” he murmurs against her lips and the sounds rumble through Wanda’s body.
She moans.
He kisses each cheek and then stills as the sounds of children running down the hallway break through their tiny bubble. “Shit,” he whispers against her ear, his movements stilling
Wanda’s lungs are bellowing as though she’s run five miles and she drops her head to his shoulder, gulping air. “Shit,” she repeats, wishing they were somewhere alone. She loosens her grip around his waist as his hands go to her thighs to help her back down to the floor, her legs wobbling. She smooths her dress down, running her fingers across the skirt as Vision rights his shirt and hair.
He catches her staring at him and his eyes are so hot that she has to knot her hands in front of her to keep from throwing herself at him again.
“So,” she says, trying to cool down.
“So,” he answers and his voice is pitched low, the sound pooling heat in her belly.
“You aren’t helping,” she informs him.
“What do you mean?” he looks genuinely confused.
“I am this close,” she raises her right hand, her thumb and index finger a centimeter apart. “To jumping you right now.”
“Oh,” Vision takes a half step closer to her and his blue eyes rake her body. “Really?”
“You really have no idea how hot you are, do you?” Wanda turns away from him, wrapping her arms around her torso.
Vision chuckles behind her, a giddy, disbelieving sound.
“You’re really enjoying this aren’t you?” Wanda mutters.
“The beautiful woman who has been plaguing my thoughts since September announcing that she finds me wildly attractive?” Vision steps closer to her, the heat of his body caressing her bare shoulders. “You’re right, darling, what should I enjoy about that?”
Wanda sticks out her tongue and Vision snags her against him, pressing her back against his front and tucking the top of her head under his chin, his arms banding around her waist.
“I want to kiss you again,” she confesses.
“I want that too,” he says.
“But-,” she presses her lips together. “I should probably go, I guess you have classes to teach.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Vision turns her in his arms. “You aren’t getting away that easily.”
“What?” Wanda asks, confused.
“Your employment situation,” Vision reminds her. “Did you really come here for an interview?”
“Well, yes,” Wanda answers. “But Vision, after this, isn’t it a little inappropriate of me to expect-?”
“Screw that,” Vision answers. “You’re one of the best dancers I’ve met. If you want a job, I’d be an idiot to turn you away.”
“But-,” Wanda chews on her lip. “I want to keep kissing you.”
“I’d like that too,” Vision lowers his head, his eyes darkening.
She pushes him away. “I can’t be kissing the boss, people will talk.”
“There’s no specific clause in the contract that forbids it,” Vision answers.
“But, I-.”
“Wanda,” Vision grasps her fingers with his and pulls them up to his shoulder. “Are you really telling me you don’t want to work here?” he lifts her right hand, holding it aloft. “Because if you are, I won’t push or press anymore.”
“No- I,” Wanda takes a deep breath as Vision’s arm wraps around her waist. “I want to.”
Vision gives her a huge grin, ducking his head to kiss her lips. “Then welcome aboard,” he says. “I’ll have Mrs. Friday get your paperwork together.”
Wanda presses up on her toes to kiss him again as he begins to sway them from side to side.
“Vision,” Wanda murmurs after a moment. “We don’t have any music.”
“Don’t we?” Vision cocks his head to one side.
Wanda blinks. “No, we don’t-.”
Vision ducks and kisses her, pulling away before she can deepen it. “Shh,” he murmurs. “Do you hear it?”
Wanda creases her brow and tries to listen over the erratic thumping of her heart. “It’s-,” she makes out a few familiar bars, the music drifting from the neighboring studio. She snorts. “The Waltz of the Flowers.”
Vision grins. “The ten-year-olds are learning Nutcracker.” He pulls her close and takes a step backwards, fixing her with a challenging gaze.
“What are you doing?” Wanda asks.
“Don’t you trust me, Maximoff?” he asks.
She presses her lips together, a smile beginning to tug upwards. She lets one hand drop to pinch the delicious contour of his ass, giggling at the surprised noise that escapes his mouth. “Bring it, Shade.”
The notes are muffled through the walls, but Wanda catches the melody quickly and begins humming along under her breath. Vision pulls her close enough to make her eyes darken before leading her through a dance, her body responding to his every touch with lightning precision, the skirt of her dress brushing his legs with every twirl.
She used to be worried about the connection between herself and Vision. That feeling that she knew exactly what move he would make before his body made it. She used to be frightened of what that kind of connection could mean for her, how easy it would be for him to walk away and leave her, grasping at the air for his touch.
But now, as she feels his arms flex underneath hers, as she shifts her weight to allow him to lift her feet off the ground in a moment of wordless communication, she’s reveling in it, loving each tilt, each turn, and each lift.
I love you, she thinks. I love you.
She knows that someday they’ll work out what went wrong in all of those months apart. Someday they’ll talk about when they knew they felt something deeper than just friendship with the other. Someday they’ll connect all the dots to make sense of everything, but for right now, as Wanda chaīnés towards Vision, his eyes blazing and his arms catching her to lift her straight above his head, she’s not worried.
Instead, she feels a little bit like flying.