i know places

Clint doesn't quite catch it. The movie is far too loud for him to hear anything. He just raises his eyebrows at her and waits, taking a minute, like he's trying to work out what she said. Wanda picks up the remote and mutes the movie, because no one's really watching it anyway.

"Do you need anything?" Wanda asks again.

He half-smiles. "Oh, yeah. Just a couple things. Like a beer. Air. Maybe a smoke." Clint pauses. "Definitely a bathroom break. But as you see, I'm kinda stuck here."

Wanda nods along. "Did you enjoy your movie?"

"I did. Pietro crashed like ten minutes in. Or maybe it was five minutes in. I don't know. All I know is, that was like two hours ago and I've been stuck here since then."

She takes a step closer, observing them. "I will help you move him, so you can get out and he can sleep. You could say I am experienced at this kind of thing."

At first Clint seems unconvinced, and almost amused at the idea that Wanda will be able to move Pietro without waking him, when he hasn't been able to do it himself for the last two hours.

"Yeah, don't really see how that's gonna be possible. Unless you have secret powers where you can move things with your mind. Like you're a mutant, and you can move—"

"I got it. And I got this, too." Wanda smiles. "Just wiggle out from under him. I will do the rest."

Then Wanda joins Clint by the couch, where he starts to move, not so subtly or carefully, really. She helps where she can, placing her hands on Pietro's shoulder and back to help him lean back, while Clint sneaks out. He slips out from under Pietro and climbs back on the couch, and there's a moment where he nearly falls and wakes Pietro, but at the last second he doesn't. Wanda's relieved, because Pietro looks tired and like he could use the rest. She watches him for a second, noticing the way he stirs briefly and then slips back into his sleep. Wanda smiles, brushes the hair back off his face, and then joins Clint over near the kitchen.

The first thing Clint does in the kitchen is stretch his legs. He lets out an appreciative sigh and turns to Wanda, grinning. She watches him disappear to the bathroom, and about two minutes later he's back, pulling out two beers from the fridge and carrying them over to Wanda. She's at the table now, looking through a recipe book Clint picked up for her a couple of weeks ago.

"Here you go. My hero." Clint grins, plopping down into the seat across from her. "I was stuck there for hours."

Wanda looks up, eyebrows raised. She watches his smile widen.

"Okay, so it was like half an hour. But it felt longer." he concedes, then opens up both bottles. "Usually, I fall asleep with him. Or first. Tonight I just couldn't sleep, not sure why. And I didn't have the heart to move him."

She nods, because she gets it. Then she clears the space on the table, moving the piles of books and magazines to the side. There's a beer waiting when she returns and Wanda takes it, smiling. It only becomes clear a moment later that Clint's not done talking yet.

"And I guess some nights, it's just hard to sleep at all. Nothing to do with hangovers, not always. Or Pietro crushing me with his awesome body." he shrugs, pausing to sip a little beer. "I guess it's just the hangover. Maybe I am old."

Wanda sighs, leaning back into her chair. "That's not it, Clint. Sometimes, it just isn't easy. Did you dream? Or was it just that you couldn't sleep?"

"Both. Sometimes. Tonight my mind just wasn't shutting off, you know? I tried, and tried. I just couldn't get it to shut up."

She smiles a little more. "I know. You shouldn't worry about waking Pietro, though. Sometimes I think he could sleep through almost anything. That is one thing you need to know about him, if you don't already know it."

It makes Clint smile again. "Yeah I had some idea, that he wasn't really a light sleeper. But thanks, I'll remember that one. Anything else?"

"You two talk a lot, I am sure you already know these things."

Clint stretches back into the chair comfortably. "Don't think I said it before, but thanks for being so cool about us."

She waits, eyebrows raised. "What are you thanking me for?"

"You were always so fine with us. Okay, so there was that initial frostiness at the start. But after that? You were totally cool with your brother dating an older guy. That's all I meant."

"You are how old?" Wanda asks.

"Thirty three."

"Pietro is twenty four next year." she says, pausing to sip her beer. "It is not so big of a difference. And you do not act your age anyway."

He throws her a look, that's much more playful and bright now. "Oh. Really? Well, thanks. I think. I'm not sure it's a compliment, but thanks." Clint says, smirking at her. "So, what about you? Is there a special man or woman in your life?"

"That was almost smooth. A good try, yes? But no, we are not talking about that."

Clint nods like he gets it, but there's something in his eyes that tells her they're not done with this yet.

"Okay. It's good. It's all good, right?"

"Yes." she agrees.

He pushes for more. "Is that a yes we don't talk about it, or a yes there's someone in your life?"

The look she gives him clears it up, apparently. Clint nods, sips half of his beer, and leans back a little more in the chair. He tucks his legs up and sighs, dragging a hand across his jaw.

"Cool, yeah. That's cool. We don't need to talk about it. Let's forget I said anything." he suggests, half a beat later. "So, I'm just curious—what can we talk about it? Don't wanna keep pissing you off, so I'm curious."

Wanda finishes up with her beer for the moment and pulls back, wrapping her arms around her knees. She brings the recipe book with her and starts to flick through the pages again, searching for a new recipe to try, or to play with, later in the week.

"Why is everyone so chatty lately?" she sighs.

At this, Clint perks up. "So there is a someone. Who have you been chatty with lately, Wanda?"

"The answer to your question is you can talk about whatever you want." Wanda says, gaze fixed on the book in her hands. "And I am not a bad listener, so I don't mind."

It turns quiet for a while after that, and Wanda leaves Clint to his thoughts. She flicks through the pages slowly, until she hears Clint clear his throat and she looks up.

"Listen, I don't know—I mean, it's just old shit." he stops, for more beer. "You know? Just the shit everyone carries. It's not the stuff to say when sober."

"You should talk about these things, even if they are old things. They are bothering you."

Clint raises his beer to her, then finishes the rest in a few mouthfuls. "That's sweet, kid. Your brother's the same. You're both kind. But I don't really think you want to know what's going on in my head. Definitely not when it's this late."

All done with her beer, and sensing Clint wants some more, Wanda slides the bottle over to him. Then she puts the book away, done with it for tonight. Her attention stays with Clint now, even as she drops her hands to the wooden table, and lets her fingers run over the edges of it. She notices the tiny sounds her rings make, when hitting the edge of the wood. Wanda focuses on it for a while, until she finds the words to begin.

"Whatever horrors you think are in your head, I can assure you that we can handle it. My brother is much stronger than people think he is. I don't usually put myself in other people's relationships, but he is my brother, and you are my friend. So I will tell you this: You should not underestimate him. He is strong, and courageous, and filled with more love than I have ever seen in another person. He cares about you, and he does his best, and if you don't think he will understand your suffering than you are wrong. He is here for you, the same way you are there for him. You have each other. That is more than most people have. And sometimes, I believe it is possible to move on. You could do that together."

The quiet feels too loud, in the silence that follows. Clint's mouth hangs open, just a little, for a while. Then he finishes his beer and disappears to retrieve two more. He returns to Wanda eventually, his own beer already half-finished. She takes a sip from the new one and leaves it.

"Well, shit. I'm not really sure where to start. You're really good at that, you know? Talking to people. You're so good at that." Clint stops, then smiles slowly. "And I know that's not really your thing, but what you said just made sense."

"I know things."

"Oh, sweetheart. You do know things. That made a lot of sense." he says, smiling more. "And you don't have to worry, I don't underestimate it. I'm just not sure about that last part. You think people ever move on? I want to, but I've been stuck for a while."

It makes Wanda think of Sokovia, and Vision, and then of Sam's words at the meeting. She reaches for her beer, drinking the bottle until it feels a little better. There's a part of her that's craving more than beer. A cigarette, or a joint. She's trying to quit the cigarettes, and she's out of joints, so the beer will have to be enough tonight.

Wanda finishes half then clears her throat. "I think that if it's something you can leave behind, then one day you will. And if you can't, then I think you will learn how to carry it with everything else. I also think that we should not talk about these things so late. What do you think?"

"Yeah, we shouldn't. We can stop. I just—what I said now, I meant it. You don't give half bad advice."

Now Clint's strumming his fingers against the table, and then the edge of the glass bottle, like he's nervous and he's got too much to think on right now. She offers him a smile.

"I know."

He smiles again. "Yeah, 'course you do. Maybe Pietro was right, and you are right about everything."

"Hmm. Maybe I am."

Clint nods and pulls himself up to his feet. "Think I'm gonna go catch up with the movie, see where we're at. Not even sure what we're watching, though. I was way too focused on trying to get out of there." he says, smiling. "Thanks for the chat, and the beer, Wanda. You're not bad company. You want to join? It's not an awful movie. I think there are dinosaurs. Or aliens? Maybe both, I can't remember. There's room for three in there, if you're interested. And I could whip us up some popcorn if you're hungry."

"I'm good. Thank you." she pauses, biting down on her bottom lip. "Clint, I think we should talk about it first."

He stills, watching her. "Yeah, sure. About what?"

"The conversation you started at work. At the Green Tides. I did not know what you wanted from me. You said it was not good for your relationship to keep things from Pietro." Wanda turns to face him more. "I don't want to weigh down your relationship with my brother. I only wish for you to be happy."

"So, wait—what? This means you're gonna tell him what happened?" Clint rushes over. "You were worried he'd lose it and go after every guy in the city. You're not worried about it anymore?"

"I am. But I am hoping if I give it time and I am healed, things will be calm."

Clint seems to consider it for a long time before he moves. He drags a chair out, sits down next to Wanda, and leans in like he's really serious about this, and he wants to make sure she's making the right decision for herself, and not just because of him and what it means to his relationship with Pietro.

"You sure about this, kid? I don't want you rushing into things."

She smiles at him again. "You are sweet to think of me. But I have already asked too much of you."

"You haven't—"

Wanda speaks over him; words quiet, but loud enough. "I did. And I won't, not again. I am ready, and I am not rushing anything."

He nods along, a hand pressed to his jaw now. "So, you're gonna tell him?" he pauses. "When? You think waiting will be better?"

"It will be after the Stark party, I think. Next week sometime." Wanda answers, holding his gaze. "I regret lying to him, and putting you in this position. I should not have kept the truth from him, but it was my way of protecting him. I have protected him since I realized that I could. And I realize I can't do it now, with this. So I'm just thankful for the time you've given me to get there, and to find a way to tell him. Thank you, for that."

Clint nods, patting her shoulder gently. "He's not gonna be pissed, Wanda. He just loves you."

She nods, gaze drawn down to the bottle of beer for a second. "I will tell him soon. I think after the party. I will be honest with him, that I asked you not to say anything. He won't be angry, he knows how much you care."

"Alright, sure. If that's what you wanna do." Clint accepts it. "Tell me how I can help, yeah? Tell me what I can do."

Wanda smiles and steps out of her chair. "Just be there for him." she says, walking over to the sink. "Thank you, Clint. I hope you sleep well."

He nods and throws her a smile. "Thanks, you too. See you in the morning." he pauses. "Oh, and I'm glad you're coming to the Stark thing. It's gonna be nice, and I'm looking forward to seeing Stark's new bar. Or hotel. Or whatever it is. I'm excited, and we're both happy you're coming."

"I'm excited for all of this..free booze, that you mentioned."

Clint's grinning now. "Oh, yeah. Me too. That's pretty much the only reason I'm going. That, and because your brother's very excited. You want to get a cab there? We have to stop by to pick up a friend of mine. But I thought a cab would be easy. Means we can get shitfaced and not have to drive."

"That works for me."

"It's gonna be epic. You think you can enjoy that? You remember how to have fun?"

She smiles briefly. "Yes. I think I can manage that."

"Good, I'm gonna hold you both to that." he calls out, grinning brightly. "You deserve to have a good night."

Then Clint's gone, to watch his movie and probably fall asleep in one of the beanbags. Wanda leaves them and returns to the sink, scrubbing her hands there, and discarding the empty bottles into the trash. She fills a glass with water and takes it to the bedroom, leaving it by the stand. Her room is much darker now without the little lights above her bed, but she likes it this way sometimes. Wanda likes the way the city lights seep in. She sits on the edge of the bed slowly and runs her hands over her face. Tired, from the sleep, and the lack of sleep. She's mostly tired from the dreams.

She's tired but she doesn't feel like sleeping. It's strange, that at almost 3 AM she feels like painting. She picks up one of her art-books from the floor and opens it up. Sometimes she paints in it, and sometimes she sketches ideas in it. Tonight Wanda paints a dark sky over the pages. It's thick, and a deep shade of purple, with tiny specks of blue and yellow scattered through it. It's tiny, only a piece of the sky over two pages of her book. It gives her an idea, for something bigger, something to paint another night. She's about to start another painting when one of the pages lands on an old sketch. It's a rough sketch of Pietro, sitting somewhere in a park. She doesn't remember where it's from, even with the date etched into the corner of the page.

Wanda's fingers trace over the lines of his face before she moves on, flicking through the pages of the book until it lands on something else—or, actually, on someone else. Viszh. It's an old, unfinished painting, and he looks like she remembers him, only it isn't exactly how he was. Wanda remembers soft golden hair and bright eyes. This is the way she remembers him, but it's not the way she painted him here on these pages.

She remembers the painting, as something that struck her one night. It's been so long, she almost doesn't remember painting it at all. Her fingers stretch out and trace the curves of his face, gently moving across the lines. It's not a portrait of him as he is, or as he was. It's more like her interpretation, or something from a dream. It's pink, and gold, and light, and when Wanda closes the book she swears the paint is still wet against her fingers. She leaves it on the floor, rushing to the window to open it. A breeze of cold air hits her and she welcomes the way it seeps into her.

The city reminds her of them, and then of him. She shuts her eyes to escape it, and is met with flickering shards of pink and gold.

* * * *

There's a soft orange sunset hanging in the sky when Wanda leaves for the park. It's late in the afternoon and she leaves alone, a bag hanging from her shoulders filled with necessities (her phone, keys, wallet, and a bottle of water) and her bike close by her side. The basket at the front of the bike is empty for now, ready to be filled with anything she picks up on her way home. There's no rush today, not like the other days. No, today she can ride for miles, if that's what she wants. She decides to go to a park a few blocks from their place and to see where the day takes her from there.

A nice little ride through the city to one of her favorite parks is just what she needs right now. It's a beautiful view tonight, with the way the sky's lit up in an array of different shades and lights. It almost looks unreal. She wants to paint it, but not right now. Wanda files the memory of the sky away as something to hold on to, something to paint later. She lets herself stay distracted by the sky until she gets to the park, and she's pleasantly surprised that it's not too busy when she gets there.

Wanda likes it because there's so much green here. There are large paths with pavement for her to ride her bicycle on, and there are also lots of patches of green. It's quiet, and busy, and exactly what she's been looking for. Her gaze wanders over it, as she peddles up the path and further into the park. She winds up looking at the sky again, eyes caught on the little strips of pink that fade into it. Wanda becomes so lost in the sky and the way it slips over the trees, that she doesn't see it until it hits her.

Or more accurately, she hits it.

She's distracted, and it happens so quickly. There's nothing she can do. The speed her bike's going at stops it from being worse, but it still isn't how she wanted to spend her afternoon. The front of her bike collides into the back of a motorcycle, parked on the side of the path. The crash sends her off the bike and over the pavement, and she just makes it to the patch of grass off to the side.

It's only when Wanda is down on the ground that she realizes her palms are grazed. They're bleeding. She blinks and remembers that night. A bitter taste fills her mouth. She remembers blood spilling from skin. Her hands, grasping at the ground. Metal on her tongue. Wanda blinks it away and tries to clear her vision. It feels like her ears are ringing, and for a second everything's spinning around her. Then it stills, and it all becomes quiet and again and there's a man. He's right there, kneeling on the ground in front of her.

Wanda tugs away, leaning back into the grass. It's all too strange, and messy, and familiar. She knocks his hands away without looking at him, and stretches up to unclip her helmet. It ends up thrown away on the ground, somewhere out of view. Wanda sighs and looks up slowly, and that's when she sees a face that's not completely unfamiliar. It clicks half a second later.

"Hey, it's alright. You're okay." he tells her. Then he glances over her closely. "Shit, I am so sorry. I thought my bike was outta the way there. I guess I was wrong. I'm really sorry."

She shakes her head and tries to move. "No, it's fine. I wasn't looking. It's—"

"Not your fault. I shouldn't have my bike here at all. I was just.." he stops, then tries to help her up. At the last second he changes his mind. "You shouldn't move too much. Just wait here, let me grab something."

He's gone and back in a second, she barely notices his absence. There's a napkin in his hand when he returns, and Wanda only has a moment to realize that before he's stretching forward to help her wipe the blood away.

"Don't move too much, you're bleeding."

"Only my hands. I'm fine."

"It's not just your hands." he answers. "And you're not fine."

Wanda pulls away again, fast. "I think I know how I am." she says, curling her palms together. "I am fine, I don't need your help. Okay?"

"Hey, look, you just crashed into my bike. Yeah? Now you're bleeding. I think I'm allowed to be concerned." he sighs, kneeling close to her. "Just come over to the bench, okay? It's right here. Just sit for a minute, let me know you're okay. Ease my mind. Please?"

It's quiet for a second, and then she really remembers him. From the day in the market, when the other stranger had crashed right into her and broken her flowers and blueberries. It's not that man. It's the one in the cap and the red shirt. It's the one who helped her pick up the broken flowers, gave her the bag of blueberries, and then disappeared like some kind of ghost.

"I just wanna make sure you're okay. Just a minute, that's all I'm asking. Then you can leave and forget all of this."

His voice pulls her back. Wanda listens to his words, then nods slightly and pulls herself to her feet. She reaches the bench soon, it's really not that far away. She walks around his bike, takes a seat on the bench, and then glances back to see him moving his motorcycle up on the grass where no one else will injure themselves. He returns shortly, bringing her bike over. It ends up on the ground by the bench.

A moment later he joins her. The dark-haired stranger sits beside her, a bottle of water soon in his hand. He pulls off the lid, pours it into the napkin, then turns to Wanda like he's going to wipe the blood off her hands for her. He feels guilty, she sees it all over his face. Something stops him from taking her hands and cleaning the blood away, and he just looks up her, waiting for her to take the napkin. Wanda stretches out her palms, leaving them for him to wipe away the blood, and clean out any rocks or pebbles stuck in her hands. It seems to be something he wants to do, to ease his guilt, so she lets him.

It falls quiet again. He wipes the blood away, and it only stings a little. Wanda looks to the trees and the patches of green as a distraction, but eventually her attention wanders back to him. He picks a pebble out of the curve of her palm where it had been wedged in and continues cleaning up the blood.

"There. Almost better." he sighs. "Now, let's see.."

His eyes travel over her, lingering on the graze on her cheek that he thinks he's done somehow. It's old, it's from that night. Wanda realizes there's blood smeared on her cheek now, from the fall. It's from a graze she suddenly feels, stinging on the side of her face. It feels tiny when she stretches a hand to touch it.

"Oh, fuck. Did I—" he stops, swallowing tightly. "That doesn't look so good. That was me?"

"It's old. It wasn't you." Wanda says, taking the napkin. She wipes all the blood away. "See? It's not bad, and it wasn't you. It was something else."

He watches her, uncertain. "Whatever it was, it doesn't look good." 

"So you already said."

For a second Wanda considers leaving, but there's a part of her that feels like this is where she needs to be. It's a strange thought, one she tries not to dwell on for too long. She exhales tiredly and leans back into the bench. The man stays beside her, gaze curious, when she catches him watching her. She realizes now that out of all the things she remembers about him, his eyes are the things that stay with her. They stand out, from everything else that feels dark (and tired, or faded) about him.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asks, watching her. "You look fine. But I know little things can shake people up."

"I've had worse falls. And I am fine. Only sore." Wanda assures him, turning away. "There's nothing for you to worry about."

He nods along, leaving her to the silence. For about three seconds.

"Hey, so, weird question.. We've met before, haven't we?"

Wanda shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Oh, I could have sworn I'd seen you somewhere before. I think it was the blueberries, right?"

His gaze is narrowed on her when she looks back. It's still curious, but there's something else to it.

"No."

He nearly smiles. "Yeah, you are. With the flowers. The Carnations, and that jerked who walked right into you." there's a pause. He smiles more. "I guess I'm that jerk, who left his bike on the path so you could crash right into it. Shit, I guess things came full circle. Huh?"

"You aren't a jerk. It was an accident. Even if I do not understand why your bike is where it is, I don't really care."

"I just walked it over. I thought I wouldn't be here long." he tells her. "I don't know why I did it, but I see my mistake now."

She turns away from the trees, looking over the blue-eyed man slowly. There's something about him, something about this, that she just can't work out right now. It intrigues her, and at the same time it bothers her that she can't work out what it is yet.

"Please, do not worry about this too much. It really doesn't bother me." Wanda explains. "I will sit here for a while, and then I will leave and we can forget this happened."

"Yeah, that's—If that's what you want." he nods, then looks to the bike on the ground. "Your bike looks a bit banged up. You need me to pay for that?"

"That's not necessary."

"If you need repairs, or hospital bills, I wanna pay."

Wanda watches him distantly, at first. She senses that he's determined to do this, so she removes her bag and pulls a pen out. Wanda tears off a piece of paper and hands it over. While he's writing something down, she takes a look at her bike and realizes the metal frame at the front that holds the basket might need to be repaired. It's all fine, apart from that. She looks away, and back to the piece of paper in his hand. His name is scrawled over it, with his number under it. The name reads BUCKY, in small, bold letters. 

"Let me know if it costs anything and I'll take care of it."

She nods and slips the note and pen away. "I will."

"I also left another number on there. Someone else's, if you need it." 

Half-way through pulling her bag on over her shoulders, Wanda stops and turns back to him. She waits, for an explanation that never comes, and then waits a little longer anyway. It doesn't make any sense.

"Excuse me?" 

Bucky's not exactly subtle about what happens next. His eyes wander over the bruises on her cheek and then he looks back to her, and it's not so obvious but it's not really subtle at all. She understands what he's getting at, and quickly pulls her bag on. Wanda's off in the direction of her bike a second later, and Bucky's up on his feet right away, following her.

"I didn't mean to upset you. And it's probably not my business—"

"If you think that something is not your business, then you are probably right." she says, scooping up her helmet. Wanda clips it on. "It is not your business."

"I was just going to say, usually when people see someone looking the way you do then they worry." Bucky explains. "It's just human nature, to care about each other, to want to help."

"It isn't. Not for everyone." Wanda meets his gaze. "And it still isn't your business."

"That's why I put her number down on the other side. She can help, if you need it."

It's only when Wanda looks up at Bucky again that she sees it. She sees the hospital band, faded, around his right wrist. There's a light bandage across the top of his knuckles, and what looks like a pale bandage under the collar of his shirt. It's something she didn't notice before, and it feels strange that she missed it, because she's usually so good at reading people and picking up on the little things. She never misses it, so it feels different. Wanda guesses he hid it well, for a reason. It makes her hesitate for a second, and she's not sure why. She picks up her bike, walks it closer to him, and curls her fingers around the handlebars.

"Thank you, for being thoughtful."

"I was just trying to help. I'll leave you to it now." Bucky pauses, half-smiling. "Sorry, for being a jerk. Hope you don't run into any more jerks today."

Wanda nods and starts to push her bike away. She's not sure why she stops, or why she looks back a minute later. It's something she can't figure out. Maybe it's the bandages, or the hospital band around his wrist, or maybe it's a look she thinks she recognizes in his eyes. She ends up telling herself that it's because she's got nothing else to do tonight, like it's that easy. Whatever it is exactly, Wanda doesn't know. She just knows that a moment later, she ends up deciding something without really thinking it through.

"Do you want to get a coffee somewhere?" Wanda asks.

And then it's out there, and she can't take it back. She's not sure why she doesn't mind. Bucky glances up, puzzled, like he expected her to be gone by now. Then his puzzled look turns into something a little more curious.

"Uh..A coffee?"

"Yes, a coffee." she pauses. "People drink them sometimes."

Bucky seems to hesitate, for a long time. Then he smiles. "Sure. If you want? I mean, you looked pretty pissed at me like three seconds ago for the bike thing." he answers. "But sure, if you want to go for coffee then I'm down for that. I don't have any other plans."

"Coffee is fine." she says, and climbs up onto her bike. "Do you have anywhere you like to go?"

"Yeah, I know a place. There's actually not one far from here." Bucky suggests. "I could meet you there?"

Wanda nods, agreeing. "You should move your bike. I will meet you there. What is it called?"

"Peggy's place. It's kinda hard to miss."

And that's how Wanda ends up at the corner of Peggy's place, waiting ten minutes for Bucky to show up before she goes inside. For a moment she thinks he's not showing up so she goes in, sliding into one of the empty booths and taking in all the little details of the café. It's nice, and bright, with lots of pictures on the wall. It's a modern, old-school kind of place, and she wonders why she's never stopped by before. It's quietly busy, and the menu looks good. She waits five more minutes before the bell above the door rings and Bucky comes in.

He glances around, unsure at first. Then he spots her and walks over.

"You find a place to leave your bike?"

"Yes. Just a few blocks away. You?" Wanda answers, watching him.

Bucky nods and slides into the booth across from her. "Yeah, sorry about the wait. You still want that coffee?"

She looks around the café, then back to him. "That's why we're here. Isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'll let you in on a pretty big secret." he says, and leans forward. Bucky places his elbows on the blue table and looks up. "This place has the best strawberry milkshakes of all time. They're the best shakes. Ever. I'll go that far and say that, because it's the truth and I can stand by the truth." 

She's not easily convinced, and looks down at the menu, almost smiling at his confidence.

"Really? You are telling me the best shakes in the world are here?"

"I am. This place, it belongs to a buddy of mine." Bucky answers. "And yeah. They're the best."

Wanda continues to skim the menu. "You're from New York?"

"Yeah. What gave it away?"

She shrugs and looks up. "The accent."

"You're not from New York. Right? The accent, it's interesting." Bucky scoops up a menu, scanning it, fast. "I'm from Brooklyn. You?"

"I'm not from Brooklyn."

He smiles and sets the menu down, and that's when she notices that he's wearing gloves. It's not too warm out, but it's not exactly cold. Wanda's gaze lingers on it for half a second, before he catches her and she looks up. Bucky's smile stays.

"So, that was a yes to the shake? Do you wanna grab something to eat with it?"

Wanda shakes her head a little, stretching back to lean into the booth. It's spacious, and comfortable. She decides she likes this place, she might even come here again.

"The shake is fine."

"Alright." Bucky strums his hands against the table, decided. "Two shakes coming up."

Then he's gone, and Wanda left to stare at the menu, the café, and then at Bucky. She's left wondering how she ended up here, when she left her apartment with the intention to ride in the park. It's not a bad day, she decides, as her gaze wanders back over to Bucky. It's not a bad place to be, either. She's had worse days, and worse company. Bucky's still over by the register ordering drinks when her gaze focuses on him again. She watches him point to something behind the glass at the counter (that's filled with so many delicious little treats and sweets). That's when she sees the hospital band is gone from his wrist. Wanda looks away, down to her palms. They're still red and raw, and they ache faintly, but they're not stinging as badly as they were and that's something.

Bucky returns soon, carrying a pink and white striped bag. He drops it at the end of the table and slides in, over to the wall. Then he leans back on the booth, draping an arm over the top of it. She gets a clearer view of the bandage wrapped around his hand because of the way he's now sitting. It's thick, and clean, and tightly wrapped around his palm and wrist. She looks closer and notices a few spots of blood seeping through the pale fabric.

"So, what changed your mind?" Bucky asks.

He turns back to look at her, gaze heavy and soft at the same time.

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted to forget all about it." he says, pausing to smile. "Now we're having coffee. It's not the way I saw it going, that's all."

Wanda's curious. She stretches forward, setting her arms on the table. "And how did you see it going?"

"Well, my secret power that lets me see the future told me you were gonna leave. Because, you know, you hurt yourself and it was my fault."

She nearly smiles. "I felt like coffee. Or something to drink. That's all."

Bucky doesn't seem at all convinced, and he makes that very clear a minute later.

"My mind-reading power tells me you remember me from the other day. Don't you?"

Wanda pauses, eyeing him off. "You have a lot of powers."

"What can I say, Wanda? I'm special."

Now she smiles, and she can't really help it. Then she thinks of the first day they met, that day in the market, and she's forced to remember why she was distracted. Wanda turns away, attention briefly caught on the view from their window. She casts a look out of the window and over to the sky, that's still bright, just a little faded now.

"It was only last week. So yes, I remember." she pauses. "I never did thank you for the blueberries. My brother ate most of them, but I appreciated that, and what you did."

Wanda pauses, then turns to look back at Bucky.

"Thank you."

Bucky shrugs. "It's alright. You looked like you needed them."

She hums a quiet response as their shakes are carried over. Wanda's first thought is that they look bright, and delicious, and they make her forget the way her palms faintly sting. They make her forget for a moment that she's sitting here with a stranger that she's been pulled to meet twice in the last week. She catches a half-smile tugging on Bucky's lips, and she realizes he's watching her, waiting for her to taste it.

"See, I can already tell that I was right. I was right, wasn't I?"

It takes one sip for Wanda to know that Bucky's right, and if she weren't so good at concealing what she's thinking then he would know it right now, too. But he doesn't, not right away. Bucky watches her, and takes a big slurp of his own drink. Then he waits, and she shrugs a little.

"It isn't so bad."

A bright smile breaks over his lips. "I can tell, you like it. You don't even have to say it, I know I'm right."

Wanda sighs and gives in. "Yes. You were right, it is very good. Maybe the best I have had. Happy?"

"My afternoon went from sitting alone in a park, to having a shake with a pretty girl." he pauses, smile still sort of hanging there. "Yeah, I'm happy right now."

She looks away for a second, down to the bandages wrapped around his knuckles. Bucky notices, and stiffens up a little. His smile's still there when she looks up.

"You hurt your hand. How?" she looks up at him.

"Oh, that was an accident. A stupid accident." Bucky says; and his smile turns into a half-smile. It's crooked, smaller. "What about you? What happened, to your—uh.."

"My face?" she smiles. "A stupid accident, too. I guess."

There's a pause between them. In it, Wanda watches Bucky while she stirs her straw around her milkshake.

"So you noticed the hospital band, huh?" Bucky asks, pausing to take another slurp of the shake. "Yeah, I thought you did. Then I thought I was being too aware. Or too paranoid. Like it was just in my head. Guess this time I was right."

For a while after he answers, Bucky watches her, like he's trying to get a read on her, the same way she's trying to get a read on him.

"What happened to your face?" he asks, then puts the shake down. "The bruises, I mean. Did someone do that to you?"

Wanda's jaw tightens, but she turns it into a smile. "I thought this was supposed to be happy?" she sighs a little. "I don't want to talk about this. And I shouldn't have mentioned your hand. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, I just—"

He trails off, distracted for a moment by something outside the window. Wanda's not sure what it is, she misses it. Whatever it is, it's clear that it means something to Bucky. He turns back to her, smiles, and takes a few more sips of the shake. Something's different now. Wanda's gaze stays on him, as he pulls a roll of cash from his pocket and drops it down on the table. Then he slides down to the edge of the booth.

"Just realized—I'm late, for this thing. With a pal. Yeah, I'm late. I'm sorry." Bucky gets up to his feet. "Thanks for the company. And I'm sorry again, for what happened. Try to avoid jerks from now on, okay? We're usually easy to spot. We walk into people, or we let them crash into us. So be careful, blue. Enjoy the shake."

There's a smile on his lips before he steps away and then he's gone. She doesn't dwell on it for long, it's only when she realizes he's left the pink and white bag of sweets on the table that she thinks about it again. Wanda leaves money on the table for her drink, scoops up the bag, and follows the path outside. If Bucky's anywhere near her, she doesn't see him. She unlocks her bike at the stand, climbs on to the seat, and puts the bag into the front basket that's only really slightly dented from their accident.

It feels strange, the way she can't keep Bucky—or their conversation, actually—out of her head. Wanda tries to ignore it, as she peddles the bike to the corner of Peggy's place. In the distance she spots a man on a motorcycle, riding away. It's too faraway to tell if it's Bucky, so she doesn't go after him. She just stops and watches, as the shape disappears into the sunset. Wanda lets herself imagine how that would feel, riding off into a warm, calm sunset. It leaves her smiling most of the way home.