Chapter 12
The past weeks hadn't exactly put Wanda's mind at ease. Steve's obsession for finding Bucky had only grown, which meant what was left of the team would go along with him to follow questionable leads, sometimes just rumours. Natasha had been away quite a lot – too much for Wanda's liking, if she was honest with herself.
“Where is Steve ?” Wanda inquired, impatience encouraged by a starved stomach peeking through her tone. Since she lived with the avengers, she had rarely felt hungry nor wanted to eat anything – but she still had. However, as soon as she woke up from a very needed nap, she couldn't think of anything other than the activity of eating, which caused her to seem on edge.
“He's been away all day. Personal business. Won't be here for a few days, I assume,” Natasha declared with an uninterested voice, not even offering a look at the starving witch. She remained busy, reading a file, or maybe she didn't desire to be bothered, which explained her lack of interest for the woman standing in front of her.
Wanda's arms were crossed in front of her chest, she didn't like how unsignificant the attention Natasha was paying to her was. “This is a disaster,” she sighed, sprawling on the couch the spy was carefully seated on.
Her action caused Natasha to perfectly raise her left eyebrow, “So dramatic,” the redhead pointed out as she continued to leaf through a file that Wanda noticed to be written in Russian.
Natasha was aware that lightly ignoring the dark-haired woman wasn't very altruistic of her but she was truly focused on her work, and if complaining was all Wanda would do, she didn't care – or at least, she wouldn't show it.
“What are we going to eat now that he's gone ?” the Sokovian asked, actively appearing desperate. “I can't cook with my wrist in this state...” Wanda remembered the time she almost broke a plate by attempting to use her powers to lift heavy things, it hadn't exactly worked well.
Remarking the condition of detress she seemed in, Natasha finally looked away from the file. “Relax, Maximoff. We'll figure it out,” she started in a calming tone. “I was thinking about eating avocado with tuna but I guess I can cook you something,” the spy kindly offered, not really understanding why she was drawn to helping Wanda, which was something she was getting used to do these days.
“We are doomed then,” she replied as she let out a loud sigh.
Natasha theatrically closed the file she had been so focused on, “Excuse me ?”
“Do not pretend you are good at cooking. No one willingly chooses to eat tuna if they can cook,”
“That is incredibly offensive, both toward my skills and tuna,” Natasha responded, raising her voice at the tuna part. She truly enjoyed eating tuna, it felt comforting. A cat used to walk around the compound when they moved in, and she hadn't told anyone that she fed him tuna. She had welcomed the habit of putting a bit of tuna apart so that she could eat it when he would demand cuddles. After two weeks, he stopped showing up, she missed him a bit, but she hoped he had found a family, a safe family without any chance of being accidently blasted or thrown scarlet balls at, during a training session.
“I am truly starving, Natasha,” Wanda confessed, her accent sounding very noticeable as she pronounced the spy's name, which the latter deeply enjoyed to hear, even if she wouldn't admit it.
“Okay, we'll try to cook something. And if my terrible cooking skills get in the way, we'll steal one of Tony's credit cards and order something,” she suggested, hoping the witch would stop annoying her and leave her to work. Natasha gazed at the woman to witness her reaction and saw a wicked smile growing on Wanda's lips, maybe it wouldn't be so awful to spend some time with the Sokovian.
However, as she focused back on the file, she could sense that Wanda was still seated next to her, fiddling with her rings. Natasha rose her head in order to glare at the woman, “Now ?” she interrogated, a slip of exasperation in her tone.
Wanda replied something that sounded pretty desperate, as if she couldn't bear to wait more, “Please.” Her request stole a sigh from the spy, who arranged the file and got up from the couch. “Let's rot something.”
As Wanda had a precise idea of what she desired to eat, she gave orders to Natasha who kept throwing sneety comments to show – more to herself than to anyone else – that she still remained in control.
Wanda was seated on the counter, as she told Natasha to place the buns a few centimeters apart before placing them in the oven. The Sokovian couldn't stop staring at the expression of intense focus lying on her face, at her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, at her green eyes that she could get lost into – if Natasha let her.
“You look tired,” she stated, eager to hear the sound of the spy's voice that had been silent for too long.
Natasha didn't bother to look up, “Thank you, that's exactly what a woman likes to hear.” She then gazed back at Wanda with the most dazzling smirk.
“You know what I meant,” a slight look of concern was resting on her face. It felt impossible to ever be able to help Natasha, since she refused to share her worries. “Nightmares ?” she interrogated as one of her fingers dipped into the dough cooked by the redhead. It didn't taste so bad.
She nodded, avoiding any kind of eye contact, so that she could properly think without getting distracted by Wanda's stare. “I've had trouble falling asleep, lately,” she sighed, discretely, but Wanda still caught it. She could feel how heavy Natasha's mind was, crawling with memories and fears.
“You know, I don't understand why you don't really let me see all the good parts of you,” Wanda stopped, attempting to find her words. “But, I can still help you, even if I don't know you that well.” It was true, she knew almost nothing about the spy, which wasn't surprising because no one truly did. She wanted to, though. Wanda wanted to know every little thing about Natasha, even the stupid ones. Which kind of flowers she preferred. What movies she liked the most. What made her feel safe.
However, even if the pieces of information about the redhead she held were very sparse, she felt close to Natasha, closer than anyone of the compound. It didn't matter how much time she had spent watching sitcoms with a Vision that had difficulties when it came to understanding why the characters were never hurt, Wanda felt drawn to Natasha. And she knew it wasn't just her that had this impression, she could feel it.
Natasha nearly smiled at her, it was almost imperceptible, “You're gonna need a lot of patience, Maximoff.” Her voice sounded husky and teasing, but Wanda could tell it was simply to mask how important the redhead's statement was. It was a promess, it wouldn't be easy to be trusted, but it could happen, if she didn't give up on Natasha.
As they were gazing into each other's eyes, the witch felt sorry to disrupt the moment, “I think the buns are ready, sweetie.”
Wanda was gently teasing her because they kind of looked like a married couple right now, she knew – but she couldn't help but love the stupid term of endearment as it came from her. It was all confusing, so she decided to convey her attention on the cooking.
Natasha took the buns out of the even, it smelled familiar – yet foreign, and remote, like an old wound. “You did good,” the witch stated, true proudness coming out of her poll. “Now we just have to stuff them with what's in the big bowl,” which the redhead did without arguing.
Silence was a sound she had grown used to when it came to Natasha, but the woman rarely missed a chance to annoy Wanda. It startled her, although she did not comment on it. She had learnt to let Natasha be, to be gentle with her – she was aware the former assassin would want to kill her if she knew Wanda treated her with this much tenderness.
But the witch didn't care, they were getting used to being more soft around each other, and she couldn't deny it felt safe, despite the fact the redhead could reject her at any given moment.
At her utmost surprise, Natasha broke the silence first, and not with a snooty comment, “Did you use to cook this back home ?” Home. The choice of using this word felt strange to Wanda. She was so far from Sokovia now – what was left of it, anyway. She was so far from her family, and nothing could change that.
Maybe she was starting to join a new family, even if it was taking momentum for her to build a bond with those strange individuals.
But when Natasha was looking at her, an honest nostalgic smile softly lying on her lips, she felt a little bit home. It was a new home. With a different setting – the compound's luxury, with a quite cold atmosphere at first but warmed by Sam's loud laughter. With different habits – training was what most of their days revolved around. With a different smell – Natasha's inconspicuous parfume she could only sense when the spy was dangerously close to her.
“Did I bring back some memories ?” Natasha kindly inquired, laying a hand on Wanda's bare arm. She did not have an excuse for such a gesture, she had just been craving to touch her soft skin.
Wanda smiled, “It's okay. Nothing painful.” She encountered the redhead's stare and didn't look away, to insure her she was genuine. “I'm very hungry,” she stated, almost agressively, which stole a smooth laughter from Natasha.
“Fine. You may eat now, darling.”
It made Wanda blush, so she lost no time and started to eat, swiftly turning away from the staring spy. “Don't look at me when I'm eating. I'm allowed to have some privacy,” she growled, rather adorably.
Natasha laughed again – she would find herself ridiculous if she saw how bright her face looked. “Sorry, I was just making sure the poison I put inside of the dough was effective.”
As a response, Wanda turned around and flicked Natasha's shoulder, which only made her laugh more. “Oh, really ? Great comeback,” she mocked in a tone she intended sarcastic – it was soft. So Natasha dived her index in the flour jar and put some on the witch's nose. “Adorable,” she teased.
After a while of stupid banter, they finally managed to eat properly, as much as they could, since they could not sit normally on a chair. Wanda was seated on the kitchen edge, next to the sink, while Natasha had settled for the isle where they would sometimes eat dinner.
The food was actually good and very nutritious. Therefore, the new chef had been congratulated quite a few times by Wanda, who would not quit until Natasha had properly accepted the praise – she also seemed to be blushing a little, so obviously she couldn't stop now.
“You know, about the nightmares...” Natasha started, sounding very serious, “I guess a little sleepover would help. You could paint my nails. We could watch a scary movie, eat popcorn...”
“I know you're messing with me, but that sounds really nice,” Wanda grinned.
Natasha arched a cocky eyebrow, “Oh, really Maximoff ? Sleeping with me sounds really nice ? I didn't think you'd have the courage to admit it.”
Wanda tried to repress a laughter and rolled her eyes instead, “Oh, shut up...” They were being playful and stupid, and Natasha was liking it a bit too much. “Careful, or I'm gonna uninvite you.”
This was going to be a great night.