there's a thin line between love and hate...
chapter start .
It's been two years since the Civil War, and the fugitive Avengers were pardoned only four months ago - although they were still required to sign the Accords. Although they all put on a united front and smile like they're glad to be back together, once the press leaves and they're safe in the Compound their mouths return to terse lines and their eyes turn hard and wary.
Clint still can't stand to be around Stark, makes a face whenever the engineer is around and always leaves the room whenever the other man comes in - not that he has to much, considering the archer hates being confined in the building and frequently escapes. He's become a wanderer, lost and angry, now that his family refuses to see him and even Natasha isolates herself. Stark, to his credit, seems to be unaffected by the other man's spite - he is surprisingly much more strong and whole than he used to be.
Clint is not the only one always away, though. Steve and Bucky spend more time out of the Compound than in it, but they don't leave together like they used to. Wanda suspects that Bucky's finally gotten tired of the mother-henning and has decided to see the kind of person he will become without any other influence.
But Stark - Stark is the real surprise. Instead of annoying the rest of them and yabbering on and on, he only gives reserved nods and cool, tight smiles. They wouldn't even know where he goes every day if the media had not caught him sitting at a cafe, happily chatting with Pepper, Rhodey, and Dr. Strange. The paparazzi even catches him giving Strange a kiss on the cheek a few weeks later.
To be honest, the engineer billionaire philanthropist hero seems to be trying to spend as much time in the company of non-Avengers as possible. Besides Vision, and Bruce - who's finally returned from India, still apologetic and filled with self-hatred for running away - Tony hasn't really spoken to any of the Avengers who've returned. Wanda bets her life that if Stark weren't required to stay at the Compound because of his job as Iron Man, he'd be off and living with Strange or back in the Tower.
She thinks about Stark a lot, really - wonders about the man who killed her parents, who locked her up in the RAFT, who was responsible for her brother getting riddled with bullet holes.
But what she thinks about even more, even more than what he's done to her, is running her hands over Stark's body, forcing her tongue between his soft red lips, binding him to the wall with her tendrils of magic and watching him beg for her. What nobody knows, not even Stark himself, is how much Wanda wants. She hates him so much, so so much, but after all there's that saying that goes, "love and hate are two sides of the same coin."
At night, she whispers to herself, "Maybe there's something wrong with me," and cries as she conjures red holograms of Tony lying next to her on her bed. Fake-Tony strokes a hand she can't feel through her hair, and says "it's ok" in the voice she knows so well - she'd grown accustomed to hearing him on the TV all the time back in Wakanda, even if she hated the things he said. Fake-Tony wants to dry her tears, likes smiling at her, loves her. And it hurts so very much when Wanda is in the kitchen or the living room and Stark walks in, only to see her and abruptly turn on his heel. He probably thinks she hates him. He's not wrong, but then, he's not quite right.
It is nighttime now, in fact, and Wanda stares up at the dark ceiling, a kind of dark lustful urge roiling inside her. If she wanted, she could brainwash Stark - all she would have to do is go up to him and reach , and the man would be hers. She's strong enough to do it, even though she's not sure if she could wipe his memories. But, oh, if she gave in, she could control him for at least a few minutes of pleasure.
"I am not a monster," she tells herself in the dark, and a tear trails down a pearl-white cheek. The empty air suddenly seems oppressive, pushing down on her like the mattress is a magnet and she is stuck in-between.
"Tony," Wanda sobs, flinging her hand in the air blindly, and sure enough, a hologram of Stark appears in glowy red, pity in his eyes.
"Oh, Wanda," he says, taking her in his arms as she leans against the wall and she can almost, almost feel real skin pressing against her own. "Shh. It's okay. I'm sorry what I did to you. I'll make it up."
"I hate you," she mumbles, another tear slipping down her face. "I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you."
Wanda turns away from Stark's sad eyes, but doesn't make him vanish.
Fake-Tony presses a kiss to her hair and his lips are soft but cold.
***
She is beginning to accept she may have a serious problem when, shockingly, all the Avengers are gathered together in the kitchen (even though they aren't talking) the next morning. Tony's friends are gathered off to one side of the room and Steve's, to the other. It's a sad kind of separation, like they each wish to meet in the middle of the rift but know there is too much history to ever step forward. She spots Stark leaning against the counter where the coffee machine is, holding a mug, and immediately her heart twirls upwards into her lungs. Wanda can't breathe.
"Hey, Wanda," Steve says with a gentle smile, holding out a plate of eggs and bacon. "We saved some breakfast for you."
"Thank you," she replies politely, but spares him and the food only a brief glance even as she's reaching out to take it.
Stark is stiffer now, as if he can feel Wanda's gaze, but even though she knows she's playing a dangerous game, she keeps her eyes on him. She studies the billionaire - the beautiful slope of his nose, the bottom lip that is thicker than the top, the long dark lashes that are too pretty to be on a masculine face like that. The warm melting chocolate eyes and the goatee scraping up his angular jaw makes her breath stutter in her mouth. The man who has somehow singlehandedly changed her entire life from the moment the Stark bomb landed down beside her and Pietro is less than twenty feet away, and yet the distance between them feels like miles and miles.
Suddenly, Stark locks eyes with her and the tension lining his shoulders only increases. Within a second he's murmuring something to Vision. The android, who is standing protectively next to his father of sorts, nods solemnly and they both quickly exit, brushing past Wanda without even the barest acknowledgement.
Somewhere deep inside her her soul is reaching out to Tony Stark, but his soul has long since left her behind. Her heartstrings pull and twist together as she swallows a bite of dust-dry bacon, watching the place where the man she so loves and hates has disappeared.
He can run all he wants, he can hide from her and fear her, but he cannot escape her forever. She wants, God, she wants, and the surge of bitter passionate possessiveness makes her want to throw up. I am a monster. Shoving the plate back into Steve's hands unexpectedly, she says, "I am sorry, but I don't have much of an appetite today. You can eat mine. Thank you."
"You haven't eaten anything," Steve protests, but Wanda brushes her hair in front of her face and exits before he can say anything more. After all, she doesn't want anyone to be watching her when she starts crying.