She's woken up by Clint and Pietro after a few hours of rest. Clint shook Pietro awake, but in doing so, startled her too. She, who had been a light sleeper by continuous habits of many lifetimes, for necessity and safety, urgency and Tony's-morning-music-blasting-too-early-parties-because-he-was-hangover- and -drunk-at-the-same-time.
She keeps her eyes closed, insisting on getting a few more moments of sleep, because she is not yet awake, and sleep calls to her like an angel to a good man or woman or person (or robot, or alien, or whatever other species exists). Pietro, however, removes his head from her and shakes her awake. Stubbornly, she refuses to open her eyes.
"Пойдем, Ванда. Я знаю, что ты проснулась. Ты не можешь продолжать спать, мы останемся на корабле. Мы должны идти. (Come on, Wanda. I know you're awake. You can't go on sleeping, we'll stay on the ship. We have to go.)."
"Нахуй отвали, Пьетро. (Fuck off, Pietro.)"
"Отлично. (Fine.)"
She then felt familiar hands hold her up, lifting her from her position, and she rested her head against Pietro. This worked. She closed her eyes again, as he carried her around, from wherever they were. As her eyes close, she vaguely remembers the feeling of being placed down on soft seats, and the new-car smell that she knew only because of her original timeline, 24 year old Wanda wouldn't have known that smell, and would have been too scared to let herself sleep in a new country, but then again, that Wanda didn't have a Pietro to carry her off the boat. Or know that she was the Scarlet Witch and have memories of a different timeline.
⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰
Wanda woke again, in an elevator, still in Pietro's arms, and in a metal box...? No, no they were an elevator. She looked around, and noticed Clint in the elevator with them, raising an eyebrow at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, despite her age physically and mentally, because Clint was as--if not more, sometimes--childish as her most of the time.
She still hasn't forgotten the little prank he pulled on her four days after Christmas, waiting in her bathroom for her to come in and absolutely scaring the crap out of her. She didn't—and still very much doesn't—know what he was at all thinking, to spook the traumatized Sokovian with unknown powers, and yell at her to scare her as soon as she enters, then try to hug her after as some sort of apology as if that was a good idea, while he was still laughing. Needless to say, Clint left her room with a very funny footage of the scare, and an aching back, along with a headache. She later found out it was Steve's idea, but Clint had done it first, stealing the idea from him, because he had wanted to be the one that saw her genuine reaction. Bet he'd regretted that.
When she thought back on it now, the memory was a fond one, something she could think back on and remember with a fond smile, because yeah, she had happy memories, and it wasn't all just sad and Vision. It reminded her of Pietro then, the sort of pranks that he would pull on her even as young children, and made her happy, although also a little paranoid, for the rest of the day.
Now, Wanda sincerely hoped no one would try to redo that prank, especially at a different date, lest she use her now far stronger, far deadlier, far more dangerous powers in response to them. Not that she wouldn't hear them behind the door, but she also probably wouldn't with how high her mental blocks were to others' thoughts unless she wanted to speak to a specific person. Not quite enough still to block out her naturally passive empathic abilities, but most times, she also learned to tune them out, or well, live with them in the back of her mind, unless they were particularly strong emotions that overrode her own.
"Sleeping beauty's awake!" Pietro cheers. "How was your sleep, sestra (sister)?"
"Good." She said, as Pietro started to lower her and she let her feet touch the floor, feeling an instant rush of light nausea run through her as they arrived, despite her years of familiarity with elevators.
"Good." He replied, nodding his head in approval. "Nothing but the best for my sister then." His eyes gleamed with something teasing, or near mocking.
Wanda gave him a sarcastic smile back. Pietro laughed. Clint stared at them with a sort of fond adoration, and underlying regret and apologies behind his eyes. She understood, even if she wasn't the mind reader. He liked to see them banter, and comfortable, and he felt sorry for almost getting Pietro killed, but it was alright. She had forgiven him in the past for when Pietro actually died, so she could easily forgive him again, in a lifetime where Pietro hadn't even been harmed.
Maybe this time she would be able to reply to Zrinka's letter, which would come soon in the future. Back then, she had thanked Clint, and said her sorry's, and sent her condolences to Wanda for Pietro's death, but she couldn't be bothered to reply. She knew it wasn't his fault, but all she could think about then was his death, that he wasn't here, and that it was all because he had chosen to be a hero, instead of someone that stayed by her side and she knew that if she tried to reply to Zrinka, she would lash out at someone innocent. Someone her brother liked. Now, maybe, she would simply thank Clint and Pietro, and she would let them reply to her, and maybe reply on her own to Zrinka, and keep her friendship with the girl. She liked Zrinka too, just not in the same romantic fashion as her brother. No, she liked redheads more, not that blondes weren't pretty and all.
The elevator doors part, and Wanda steps out of it, then her brother follows and Clint steps out last, but takes a turn to the right, but Wanda knows by experience that they will be taken to the right. She remembers it. The questions, and the tests, and the near interrogations, about her past, about Ultron, and about her powers, and even Pietro's. The way they were all so clinical, and logical, and smothered her with their never-ending everything that they encouraged her to keep answering as best as she could, as if she could even think, considering her brother had been gone, and they'd been in a new country, and— as one of the scientists walk towards them, she frowns. She still doesn't like them.
She liked Darcy, yes. But she was also pretty sure that was because of the girl's personality, her empathy, sarcasm, and the way she protected her from their relentless inquiries about everything she didn't yet have a chance to process. And also that she had had a crush on the girl.
'Piet,' she thinks, 'are you ready?'
'Ready for what?'
'They're coming.'
'Who is???'
'Scientists.' She takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. She makes eye contact with the approaching scientist, and it sends them the message— they will not take either for questioning without the other. 'They have come to ask us questions. Agents, people in black suits, and scientists, and Dar– a lot of people.'
Pietro frowns. 'Questions about what?'
'About us.' She starts to follow the scientist, wordlessly, and the look in the scientists' eyes shows that they appreciate it. 'Our past, in Sokovia, why we volunteered, why we joined Ultron. How our powers work. Everything.'
He tenses. 'Do we have to?'
'I don't know, I– I didn't really have it in me to refuse the last time.' She thinks that they could refuse, but that would only delay the inevitable. He seems to understand, as he squeezes her hand, and nods at her.
'We'll face it together.' He tells her, reassuring her without the need for her to show or tell him that she needed reassuring. She missed that too. So many things with him that she missed. Things she was deprived of too early; things she refused to live without this time around. 'And who's Dar? Is he your boyfriend? Did you date a scientist? Really, Wan?'
Wanda rolls her eyes. 'Yeah, yeah, you get it out of your system.'
The scientists tell them to take a seat, and pull out an extra chair for her.
'Was he like Steve? Or was he like the male version of Natasha? What was your Avengers-time boyfriend like?'
'First off, let me get this straight— Dar cy is a girl. Darcy was not my boyfriend. Or girlfriend, for that matter. And Darcy was like neither. Look, here she comes, she's gonna walk by soon.'
Darcy walks by, just as she remembers, and right before they close the door, she sees Darcy smile at her and excitedly wave at her. Then the door closes.
'She... is adorable.' Pietro admits reluctantly. 'Another crush?'
'Another crush.' She owns up to it now, the fact that any crush she has had on a man, has always turned into a relationship: ex., Marcos when she was 12, Yuri who had been a month after Marcos, Milos when she was 14, Darios for three weeks before she turned 15, he had dumped her on her birthday, Chuck when she was 16-19, John when she was 20, Peter—that had been a weird time for everyone involved and thankfully had only been three weeks–Frances until Pietro caught him cheating on her after half a year and beat him nearly to death, and finally, Vision.
But, the thing with her was that, no female crush of hers had ever turned into a relationship, despite the fact that she was omnisexual, and preferred women over men, though still liked men: ex., Talya, Hannah, Annie or Anne, Mika, Leon, Zrinka, John's sister, Bell, Ivana, Eva, Kala, Liby, Lily, Laura, Lola (Pietro called it her L-phase, after seeing an episode of the L-word from a rerun of ONCE ), Emma, Darcy, Maria, Joan from the bookstore she liked to visit, and Natasha.
'Too bad you've never had luck with the ladies.' he says, 'or well, that you and ladies never get to the relationship stage. I know just how well you are with the ladies.'
Wanda furrows her brows as the interrogator comes in, they try to soften it and call her... something else, she doesn't remember it now, but they used some sort of sugar coated title, tried to make it seem like they were someone that cared, but they weren't. They were an interrogator who wouldn't back off and caused at least 5 panic attacks in the span of 2 hours. Darcy had to barge in to remove her from the situation, telling them all they were stressing out and she had been like such a hero. A knight in white armour, that she didn't even care that she was literally a stranger dragging her out of a room.
'What do you mean?'
'I mean Ivana, Zrinka, Bell, Lola, Darla, and who was it? Tara? No, hm... uhm... uhm... Talya!! Yeah,Talya— so many girls that you had a crush on, and some that I had a crush on, they all liked you back. You stole Zrinka from me back then, when you liked her still, and I was so sad and mad that Zrinka liked you and not me. Asked for me to hand you flowers and all, like I was just a messenger. People of all genders loved you; big expressive eyes, attractive body, good clear skin, pretty blue-grey-green eyes. The only thing that was in common with all of them, even the ones that liked you back, is that none of the women had the courage to ask you out, and you wouldn't either. But the men did. So no wonder you only dated men.'
Wanda blinked. Really? She hadn't known that. She blushed, at the thought of her past crushes liking her back, she hadn't really had time to think of what others might see when they saw her—aside from what she was/had been then, an orphan, homeless, jobless, poor—and her clothes, the way she chose to present herself to the world, all the dark clothing and rings that she thought looked cool and ripped tights that were worn too much, but she didn't really have spares. She didn't think she was that attractive, but Pietro seemed to agree, and he always saw things that she didn't really see.
Despite being the mind reader, she was the one more prone to being stuck in her own head and being oblivious to the obvious.
As they talked, the men around them started to take tests, not prodding or anything, just wrapping measuring tape around them, having them go on scales, and so on.
"Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Maximoff." The woman said, the not-interrogator-interrogator, snapping her fingers in front of them, not directly in front but considering she was sitting across from them, basically in front. They both turned to her. She remembered then how that hurt, how she asked them to call her Wanda, because she couldn't hear her last name without remembering her entire family, her parents and Pietro, who she had lost then, and yet they kept stubbornly calling her by her surname.
"Wanda." She corrects.
He stares at her blankly. "Please, pay attention, Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Maximoff."
She really really still doesn't like them.
"What are your names?"
"Pietro Maximoff."
"Wanda Maximoff."
"What are your ages?"
"21 years old–" she replies for them, but Pietro interrupts her.
"--But I'm 12 minutes older."
Wanda turns to him with a deadpan look. Pietro shrugs with a smirk. She rolls her eyes, slapping his arm.
"Right." the woman says, apparently uncomfortable now that she's not uncomfortable. Копиле (bastard). "Are you two allergic to anything?"
"No." They both answered.
"Have you been sick recently?"
"No."
"So you are fine physically?"
"Probably?"
"I see." She nods, all too professional. "And what are your powers?"
"Don't you have all this already?" Wanda says, snapping, because she is done with this already. She's asking things they should already know. She knows because Maria Hill has shown her their file. "Why are you asking us this? To confirm your facts? Right after we just survived a traumatic event? Is this how the Avengers do things?" Her eyes glow red, and her magic feels like pin pricks under her skin, small numb needles trying to get past her skin, especially around her hands, she wants to scratch her hands, and her entire body raw, just to let her power out. It calls to be released, particularly at this very annoying woman. Instead of giving in, she flexes her hands into a fist, and lets the cold comforting feel of metal ease her hands, and help the itch ebb away.
"I... please calm down, Ms. Maximoff."
She wants to scare her, get in her space, and show her just what she thinks of their–
"I have super speed." Pietro says, and she turns to him. He places a comforting hand on top of hers. "And faster appetite, and I don't really know all the sciencey stuff. I have fast speed, and some sort of faster healing, and it's how I can travel in such speeds without ripping the skin off my bones or something? I don't— I don't know."
She keeps her mouth shut when the interrogator woman looks at her expectantly. She's already playing very nice in not killing—just harming—him. She crosses her hands over her chest, and he gets the message. Wisely, she flips the page of her clipboard full of questions and moves into new questions.
"Why did you volunteer?"
"Why else?" Wanda shrugged, "Poverty, they offered luxuries to us. Shelter, food, some semblance of safety."
"And they told us we could protect our country from people-- help people."
"Take down Tony Stark and his Avengers." She snarled.
Pietro places a hand on her shoulder, a curiousity in his mind with a tinge of amusement, a question that she doesn't even need to let her mental barrier down for. He's wondering why she's suddenly far angrier. Well, if he had her memories of what they wanted to do to her, what they did do to her in a past life-- make her so uncomfortable and so cornered that she couldn't even think of using her powers so that they could feel safe while they asked their questions. They were like a preview of what would happen in the Raft. She still hates them, even despite the fact that they were years ago in the past.
"And do you still want to take down the Avengers?"
Wanda stared into the woman's eyes, staring at her neatly brushed blonde hair, her freckled pale skin, to her feminine shoulders, where a black blazer laid atop, and a sort of silk button up, along with--she dragged her eyes down visibly, let the interrogator see what she was doing, let her know she was under a criticizing eye--a matching black pencil skirt. She still didn't like her, not even through all the years she had never again had to think of this woman, but she couldn't deny that she was attractive. "No." Then she broke her stoic faze and grinned, "Just Tony Stark." She purred, leaning forward on the table and crossing her arms under her breasts.
The woman flushed and backed away, moving her chair back, causing the slightly irritating sound of metal scraping against the floor. She coughed as she lifted her chair and moved back towards the desk, the flush still yet to be gone.
Pietro chuckled and pulled her back by her collar like she was a cat. Only he could get away with this. 'Down, girl.' He laughed, internally. His never-faltering smile/smirk still on his face.
'I didn't do anything!' she protested, 'She's the one reacting weirdly.'
Pietro laughed out loud. The interrogator-woman looked at him. Pietro and Wanda looked back in challenge. She cleared her throat again and moved on to the next question, a sign of her surrender. Good.
"S-so you have--ahem--so you have plans to take down Tony Stark?"
"T'was a joke, lady." Pietro said for her. "Does that exist in America here? You know, jokes? I'd assume it does if there is an American word for it."
"Please answer the question." She replied.
"No." Pietro answered more clearly, although clearly annoyed at his snark being dismissed.
"We do not want to harm Tony Stark..." Wanda added on. "...seriously. We'll make sure he lives if we ever try anything. Don't want to be a murderer and all that." She laughed inside her head. She was a little too late for that, with all the people she had killed, bad and good.
"I see." the woman wrote on the paper she held.
"You're taking this too seriousl-- she's taking this too seriously, isn't she?" Pietro joked.
"On the contrary, Mr. Maximoff, you two are the ones not taking this seriously enough." The woman glared.
"Well, pardon me." stated Wanda sarcastically, "we just recently got through a very traumatic experience in which I almost lost my brother, and he almost lost me. Our country just fell, and we are in a new country, not yet given the time to settle or process things. Perhaps, interrogator lady, we are in shock."
"I am not an interrogator, Ms. Maximoff. I am simply a SHIELD officer, and I need to get a clear rundown on what happened." She turned her glare towards Wanda, but her glare could do nothing to the Scarlet Witch. Wanda simply smiled. "And, if I may say--"
"--go ahead, no one's going to stop you. It's not like we could. You would just say it anyway." Pietro interrupted.
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. "As I was saying, you two do not seem like you are at all in shock."
"Well," Wanda threw her hands up, "if the interrogator says so! She must be a psychiatrist or therapist or something, and even though shock comes differently for everyone, if she says so, then she must be right! We must not be in shock jus because she says we aren't."
"Please, Ms. Maximoff, focus. Let's get back to business."
Wanda glared, and the woman flinched. Some S.H.I.E.L.D agent/officer she was.
She let down her mental barriers to catch their thoughts.
'Go Wanda!!' - Darcy. That brought a small smile to her face, to know Darcy was still her supporter even in this lifetime.
'Annoying Maximoff twins.' - some man. Whatever, he was probably more annoying.
'Is she reading our minds right now?' Yes, I am. 'No. Her eyes would be glowing if she was using her power, right?' Nope, but that's a good assumption.
'Pietro is so funny.' - Darcy, again.
'I thought Wanda would be shy.' - Again, Darcy. She really had fast thoughts, didn't she? Pietro really would like her.
'How long's their interview gonna take?' - Clint. Hm, he wasn't here last time. Maybe it was the lesser amount of guilt?
'Why is she still staring at me? Is there something on my face? Am I attracted to her? She's... far more intimidating than what was on the report. I should have just let someone take this interview. Should I give them my name so they stop calling me interrogator? No, that would be unprofessional, right?'
Wanda closed her mental barriers down, to everyone, except Pietro and this interrogator woman. Is that why she was reacting weirdly? Attraction? She smiled and leaned back on her chair lazily. Interesting.
"What did you know of Ultron's plans?"
"That he wanted to take down the Avengers down. Our goals aligned. Until it didn't. Until I found out he didn't just want the Avengers down, he wanted the world gone. Wanted to be the next meteorite or something." Wanda told her, looking over her again, for the small details that she might or might not have missed. Wondering if that would make her falter. It did. That flush returned, and she stumbled over her words on her next question.
"And you- you didn't know about his plans for-- to use Sokovia like that?"
"Of course not, interrogator woman." said Wanda. "Why would we join a man who wanted to use our country to destroy our world? It's counteractive, and a waste of our volunteering for Von Strucker's projects. A waste of all we went through at his hands, all the pain and neglect and assholes and the goddamn prodding and testing. Is that what you were looking for, interrogator woman? Or did you want to catch us in the act and find out that we did know the entire time and we're real bad guys, and we infiltrated SHIELD, and we'll be the new bad guys that the Avengers have to fight because we're gonna do absolutely terrible things to everyone here, starting with you? Is that what you want to hear, interrogator?"
The girl was positively bright red, nearly as red as her hair in the future. "It's Jennifer." she finally squeaked out. "I'm not an interrogator. My name is Jennifer, and please. Answer our-- my questions seriously. The faster we get through this, the faster we can all get out."
Maybe she judged her interrogator wrong, then.
"Alright," Pietro agreed, his accent thick. "Let's speedrun through the questions then."
Wanda acquiesced.
"Why did you betray Ultron?"
"Because he wanted world annihilation and we didn't." Pietro answered.
"Where did you disappear off to, before Pietro got you to the boat?"
"Killing an Ultron."
"How did you escape the falling city?"
"I can fly."
"You can fly?!"
"Is that part of your question list, Jennifer?"
"Please answer the question, Ms. Maximoff."
"If we're going to call you by your name, call us by ours."
"Please answer the question, Wanda."
"Yes, Jennifer, I can fly."
"What else can you do?"
"I will not answer that."
"Answer, please, Ms. Maxi--Wanda."
Wanda stared at her, lips pursed in dislike, and Jennifer shifted. So Pietro took it upon himself to answer for her.
"She can fly, she can read minds, she has telekinesis, and she has empathetic abilities, she can stop trains almost instantly. That's all we'll say."
Wanda nodded to him in thanks. She didn't want to reveal the secrets of her powers, she wanted to keep her cards close to her chest, and live as she should, without being too bothered and go right back to how it was in her old life-- to being used for her powers, and solely her powers. Because what else was she if not abused, used, or put on hold?
And if there was someone she was going to reveal all her secrets to, it wouldn't be Jenniefer. It wouldn't be anyone but Pietro. Maybe not even Vision, she loved him, but she also knew him.
"Fine." Jennifer acquiesced, knowing when to pick her fights. And this fight was not one she would win. Wanda was powerful enough that she could long survive without the Avengers' help or support, and start a whole new life with Pietro by her side. The only reason she was staying was because Pietro deserved a life as a hero, he had always wanted to help people. And Vision. "What can you do, Pietro? Do you have any new abilities that we weren't aware of?"
"Well, I don't know what you're aware of." Pietro shrugs. "But no, I don't think I have any new abilities. Just my super speed, and all the powers that have to come with it..."
"I see, then... Will you two be willing to take some tests, so we can get a handle of your powers? Will you cooperate with us?"
"Do we have a choice?"
"Yes, of course--"
"Liar." Wanda coughed. "We'll cooperate."
Jennifer stared at her. "You two can fully refuse, it's within your right." Wanda counted, 1, 2, 3-- "It's just that it's very much suggested, so that we can further help you with your abilities and-"
"Knew it." Wanda mumbled. She sighed, then remembered how SHIELD was actually just HYDRA, and if they got results of hers and Pietro's power, especially since she was more powerful now, and didn't really quite know how to make it look like she was struggling with something she now felt fully comfortable with, and Pietro didn't know the future... "Right, well then if we indeed do have the right to refuse. I refuse. We both do. SHIELD isn't going to be helping us with our powers, you know who will? The Avengers. Steve, Natasha, and Tony. Tony will create whatever bots are needed to let us have fighting simulations. Steve and Natasha will train us, and SHIELD does not factor into any of that."
She got up. "So is that it, Jennifer? Because I would really like to find my new room, and process what's happened, since you know, we're still in shock."
Pietro snickered.
Jennifer nodded.
Wanda left, and Pietro trailed behind her.
"I LOVE HER!" she heard Darcy yell. "Can we please keep her?!"
"No, Darcy, we can't keep an Avenger." She heard someone reply, she remembered her name vaguely, Darcy had introduced her maybe once... it was... Joan? No-- Jane.
"Why not? We already did! You kept your hunk of a God, why can't we keep them????"
Wanda could already hear her pout. She would have gone to greet them if she really hadn't been in such search for rest. Not just sleep, she had gotten enough of that in the car and when she was being carried by Pietro. What she wanted was a chance to really think things through, and fully process over everything that happened. She had just time travelled, defeated Ultron again, and kept her brother alive.
She had a lot to process.
⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰
Wanda finished processing (i.e, staring at a wall, as she tried to wrap her around everything that happened and come to terms with reality) around Dinner time. Pietro, meanwhile, had taken that same amount of time to go to sleep. He was a sleep talker, unlike her--but to be fair, they both projected their dreams, in the way that he revealed his dreams through talking, and she revealed hers through her magic--and his dreams were quite interesting.
" Нет, красная шапочка, не иди за ходячим бревном в лес, он обманщик! Там опасные волки, а ты в очень яркой красной одежде. Стоп!!! (No, red riding hood, don't follow the walking log into the forest, he's a liar! There are dangerous wolves in there, and you're in really bright red clothes. Stopp!!)" a gasp "Ванда? Ты - маленькая красная шапочка? (Wanda? You're the little red riding hood?)"
She had to wonder whether or not his dream was an alternate universe, or if it was something completely of his own mind's working. Dreams deferred like that, because of the same reason that science and magic coexisted. She really hoped it was just a dream of his brain's making, she didn't quite know how to feel about the possibility that out in a multiverse, there was a version of her that was a Red Riding Hood, who followed a walking log into a forest full of wolves...
"Нет, мистер Лог, моя сестра не крала никакого халата, этот халат принадлежал ей с детства, мистер Лог. Пожалуйста, не берите ее в волчий лес, она моя сестра. (No, Mr. Log, my sister didn't steal any robe, that robe's been hers since childhood, Mr. Log. Please don't take her into the wolf forest, she's my sister.)"
Wanda decided to do something until her brother woke up, then she'd go out with them to join the Avengers for dinner. She knows even after most of them finish it, most of them curl up, especially after a long and hard mission like Ultron, to watch movies and just be happy and chill. A special sort of found family type of thing. She had once been part of it, and it did indeed do wonders for her, despite the loss of Pietro, the way everyone was, it gave the sense of a family. A whole family, mismatched, dysfunctional, and nowhere near perfect, but it was a family. It made her feel safe, protected, cared and loved. She knows why the Avengers need their after-mission hangouts, it helps solidify their sense of family, and reminds them they are safe and cared for, and part of a family. Not expendable soldiers. It helps them in ways that can't be put to words. She remembers it, and the feeling of safety it inspired, even now.
So that's how she knew they would be in the living room, no matter what time they come out, or when Pietro decides to wake.
Still, as she looks to the side at Pietro who's sleeping soundly and positively hogging their bed, despite the fact that it's Queen sized, and he's used to sleeping in small spaces, she feels a poison crawl up her throat. Bitterness and anger, because after all she had done for them— a lot of people, in those news reports she read in her past life, in the articles after Lagos, when she tortured herself out of guilt, for not being able to protect... for killing... and all those articles blamed her. They talked of how she had failed the Avengers– all of them, every single one all said how the Avengers did so much for her; gave her a home, gave her a team, supported her, trained her, let her meet the love of her life, saved her from Ultron, Thanos– what about what she did for them?
No one ever acknowledged that. No one acknowledged that her brother died for Clint, no one acknowledged that she chose to be an Avenger, or the missions where she saved their asses, or the fact that it was Steve who was right in front of the bomb and didn't notice it, the fact that she saved Vision from dying early, saved Natasha and Okoye, saved many many people in the first battle against Thanos, killed Vision for the sake of the good and then watched him die for them too, it was her who held Thanos off in her anger, and her who took down–... she did so many things for the Avengers too, but no one ever gave her credit for that. No one talked of how she didn't need to do all of this, just because she had powers, doesn't mean it was the logical move.
The Avengers hadn't acknowledged her, for all the help she had given them, the nights that she had been the first to rush into their rooms at the sign of a nightmare, and had taken their nightmare from them with their consent, because she knew deep down they didn't want their nightmares, even at the cost of putting it on her. She'd been so sure then that it was the only way she could help them outside of missions. So many different scenarios ran inside her mind, where she had helped the Avengers, the breakfasts she cooked, the moments in which she reassured everyone, the moment in which she made sure no one was ever left out or feeling unspecial like she had felt before.
And yet, after all of that, when she had been not just at her low, but at her lowest and once more, at her knees, no one had been there for her— Where was found family then? Where was her so-said team then? Where were the Good Guys then? They weren't there. Because no matter how they portrayed themselves, no matter how much she had given to and for them, they didn't give back except that which was obligatory of them to give because of circumstances. Her brother had died, so they gave her a replacement family. She had chosen to be an Avenger, so they had to give her training and a team. What had they really given her? Aside from false hope ("Things will get better" "they'll come around" "You'll be happy" "I won't let you be in chains ever again" "It stands to reason we'll say hello again"), and scorn for trying her best— because that's all she had done, all she'd ever done in her past life, try her best and hope it was enough, but it was never enough— for any of them.
Pietro mumbles in his sleep, "Ну, хорошо, мистер Бревно. Мстители спасут мою сестру! И я пойду с ними, и моя сестра навсегда останется у вас, мистер Лог! Вы и эти ужасные злые волки! Я уничтожу вашу банду... зззззз... (Well, fine, Mr. Log. The Avengers will save my sister! And I'll come with them and you won't have my sister forever, Mr. Log! You and those god awful real mean wolves! I'll take down your gang... zzzzzz...)"
She smiled, well... maybe she didn't have to think about them and what was and wasn't enough for them anymore. That was her past, but now her future would be different. She had her brother, and she could focus only on what would be enough for her. With that in mind, she walks over to the desk by her bed, and waves her hand, a wave of Chaos Magic sweeps over her hands, and moves over the shape of a notebook, creating a composite notebook on top of her hand. She does the same for a pen, and sits down, starts to write down the things she wants to prevent.
Pietro's death
Lagos
Thanos' arrival
Vision's first two deaths
Vision being used and reconstructed as a weapon
My death
Natasha (and Tony's?) death
Isolation, being left alone after Thanos
WestView
Closing the Hex
White Vision
Agatha finding her— i.e, the previously on segment
Losing her kids
Sending Monsters after America
Becoming a Monster in her pursuit for America
Her second death?
ESPECIALLY THE ISOLATION!!
It all really tied down to isolation. She knew she wouldn't have done most of the most horrible things she had done if she hadn't been alone to let her mind convince herself to do it. Loss and Grief wasn't her bane, no she lived in those emotions, and no matter how horrible it was to forever live in a state of never ending darkness, as long as someone was there to be in the darkness with, someone to lean on, to gradually learn how to keep standing instead of surrendering to the darkness, then she really would have been fine the entire time. It was when she had no one that the Darkhold had been able to use her as such an easy prey. It was when she had no one that she had to create the Hex to have someone. It was when she had no one that she became codependent with Vision, depending on him for her happiness... what? She meant she loved Vision. Yes, there was a little bit of codependency, but the way she had phrased it— she hadn't meant it like that, she just meant that she was a little bit codependent but that was because she loved him so much and... and– she just loved him so much that it was just a little bit unhealthy. That was it. She loved him too much.
That was always her flaw: Loving too much, and too hard.
She should really stop, because she should have learned her lesson by now– she knew it was probably not going to be forever, because nothing for her ever was.
Wanda looked to the list, and she crossed off one thing from the list
Pietro's death.
She planned to spend the rest of the times making plans on how to achieve avoiding the other events on the list, but Pietro's mind started to clear out of its' dream, and join the waking world— also he was groaning and stretching before his eyes even opened, so she was pretty sure he was definitely waking, even if she didn't feel his mind sharpening in the way that an unconscious person's mind sharpens when they begin to regain consciousness. His "This bed is heaven inside a room," didn't hurt her assumption either.
Before he woke, she waved her hand over the composite notebook and pencil and both disappeared with a mist of chaos magic in its trail, but that too went soon after.
"Good afternoon, Pietro. It's 11:24 PM, so it's more like night. Are you good on sleep?"
"Oh, absolutely." He replied, fluffing the pillows and resting his cheek on them. "This bed is my best friend. I'm sorry, Wanda, but I think I love this bed more than I love you."
Wanda looked on at him, amused. "You've replaced your twin sister with a bed?" she scoffed, "if I'd known your loyalties were so fickle, I would have just eloped with Zrinka and left you." She approached him, and sat on the bed, patting it. It felt like a new sensation to her, or well, to her body. Like clouds, and heaven, as her brother said, but she knew in her mind that it wasn't new. She had never really gotten to these sort of soft mattresses, despite the years she had used it for, because her body would always be more conditioned for harder beds, but she got used to the novelty and heavenly-ness of it a little. It was sweet to see Pietro react the same way she did, or would have, if she wasn't mourning then.
"Oh, is that so? Zrinka? Not anyone else? You're just going to take my crush like that? How mean. From the way I see it, you are the unloyal one." He teased, getting up and pulling her down to the bed by wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her back. Then he moved to hover over Wanda, his legs beside her and his hands moving towards her sides to tickle. "This is punishment, Wanda!!" He declared over her fits of laughter and shrieking, as she tried to throw him off of her, but he stayed firm and she laughed so hard she could feel herself turning a little red.
"Piet, Piet!! No! Stop! AHH!! Stop!!" She stopped talking and kept laughing, then Pietro's stomach growled, louder than her screams of laughter– and that caused her to laugh again. He got off of her with a sheepish scratch of his nape, and stood by the edge of the bed as she laid, staring at the roof of her room to compose herself.
"Let's go out to the kitchen and get food, hm?" Wanda said, still staring up at the roof. Back then, she had done this a million times, in silence and to internally scream, because she was the only mind-reader and therefore the only one that could be bothered with internal screaming. Now, as she looked at her plain wall, it was too familiar, and sad. She wanted to decorate it, maybe some glowing neon stars for when lights were off? All in random placements because she didn't really see the constellations, even if she knew where she put them. Or maybe, a red galaxy? Stars and planets, with a red ethereal misty glow instead of the purple-blue-black darkness of the Universe.
Maybe all of it combined. The universe, the red misty universe, the stars. Just no more plain white. It made her feel like she should be crying.
"WANDA!" She heard.
"Hm?" She looked at Pietro.
"Finally, she hears." Pietro laughed, stretching his hand out to her. "Come, let's go get food. I am starving."
She takes his hand and he pulls her up.
"Yeah, I heard." She jokes, and Pietro bumps against her shoulder in retaliation. She bumped back against his shoulder until they were in the hall on their way to the elevator and fully pushing at each other, shoving the other to the wall with increasingly aggressive shoulder bumps.
━━━━━┓ + ┏━━━━━
The elevator dinged to signal its opening, and Natasha tensed, while the others talked, at ease, able to keep the atmosphere and ease going, Natasha could do nothing but watch the elevator until it opened. Her need to keep alert and make sure she was safe wouldn't let her eyes tear away from the elevator, no matter the voice in her head telling her that they were in the Avengers tower, and she was around her teammates and she was safe .
When the doors finally opened, out came Pietro tumbling out, with a laugh coming out of his lips. He looked so at ease, and so happy, you wouldn't have been able to know he had almost died just yesterday, or that he just lost his country the same day he almost died. You wouldn't have known he was someone who had been through anything — not with that smile on his face.
"Ow!" Pietro exclaimed. "You are a mean little thing! For someone so small, you are angry! You are like– like a pixie!"
Out steps Wanda, chuckling with narrowed eyes. She does the I've-got-my-eyes-on-you motion. "And you, sir, are on thin ice."
Pietro shoves her with an aggressive push from his shoulder and she stumbled back into the elevator just as the doors almost close in on her. She holds it open with her powers, and then sticks her hand through the small gap, waiting for the doors to naturally open again.
By then, Pietro had gone around to the kitchen and already made himself a sandwich, watching, and waiting for her to finally approach. Instead, scarlet wisps surround his sandwich and move from his hand towards hers.
"No, but are you sure? It's a very nice offer, you have to admit. You leave me with my crush, and you take your crush and elope. And me and Zrinka elope on the other side of the world, and we have annual dinner meetings to catch up. I get my civilian blonde, and you get your Avenger red–"
She and Wanda make eye contact, just for a slip second, but it is enough for her to send her magic-thingamajigs towards Pietro's mouth to keep him from speaking and finishing his words. She instantly goes quiet, all signs of that ease and joy and comfortableness goes away. Now, she stands, quiet and calm and still.
Natasha finds herself taking in Wanda. She knew the girl was pretty–no, far more than that–beautiful. With her big doe sea green eyes, and her fair skin, and her hair that looked unnaturally soft by nature, or just thick, and such a pretty shade of brown, and her firm jawline, and easy smile, and pretty lips. She is irresistible, in her innocence and untouched sort of pleasant enticing features, enchanting in a way that had nothing to do with her magic and everything to do with her looks, and that was just her face.
Her body too, Natasha wasn't blind, she noticed. She saw. She lusted. Wanda's curves, the way her dresses hugged her body tight, those thighs in those thigh-high length socks, and modest way to cover up with her jackets, and those arm gears, an excessive amount of accessories that just brought more attention to different parts of her body. Bracelets to her thin wrist, which led to her rings, so many rings, and they all drew attention to her long, nimble fingers that moved in hypnotic, almost lyrical and rhythmic ways, like a dance with her hands. Natasha never knew hands could be that attractive until her. Then those necklaces, that brought attention to her collarbone, to that pretty patch of unmarked skin that was so fair and pretty (and perfect for a hickey), and her low necklines, that plunged low enough to show her cleavage and then her long and graceful neck.
Wanda was beautiful. Attractive. No one could argue with that, not even Natasha, because she wasn't blind. Just as Natasha knew Pietro and Steve were handsome, the fact that Wanda was pretty was a simple fact that couldn't be denied.
Apparently, even a certain SHIELD officer couldn't. Jennifer, she thinks, was her name. The one in charge of getting the twins' stories. Apparently, according to Darcy's ramblings, and through the rumours grapevine, in her retelling, not only had the Maximoff twins been extremely snarky, Wanda had been a flirt , and gotten Jennifer "straight as a ruler" Morton to blush and falter like some schoolgirl. It was a massive embarrassment for Jennifer, but a topic that people hadn't stopped talking about in hours.
It had even Natasha a little bit interested. You'd think that for someone who dug up her worst memories, Natasha would like her a lot less. Especially after all the work she had put into being better, into composing herself more, into compartmentalizing everything, and getting past her nightmares and her past just that little bit more, and into becoming a new person, someone better than the Black Widow she had been. But she didn't. Weirdly enough, on the way back, after calming Bruce down, in the Quinjet on the way to the Barton's farmhouse, her darker memories that had been dredged up by the little enhanced (Sorceress? Warlock? Witch? Magician? What even was Wanda? What were the differences between the titles?) had gone away. Completely. In fact, the memories that she herself had dug up upon remembering the memories Wanda pulled out were completely gone by then too, back into their compartments.
So no damage had really been done to her psyche, and so far, she wasn't too shaken up, or affected by what Wanda did, so really. All was fine, or as close to it as things could get so soon after preventing a disaster like that. She was so glad the Maximoff twins switched sides. She knew they would have absolutely lost without them, especially Wanda.
Wanda was powerful. Far more powerful than she let on, or even knew. Natasha could feel it in her bones, it was sort of her sixth sense— a danger sense. And Wanda was a bigger danger than anyone else in the room right now, including her. Natasha wasn't sure what scared her more, if Wanda knew that, or if she didn't — both scenarios were honestly terrifying. Wanda was as terrifying to her as she was beautiful.
But not a sort of terrifying that scared her, and made her want to stay away, a sort of terrifying that kept her alert and all her senses keen and watching the danger so she could escape. Wanda was terrifying in a way like the unknown, the type you know if you got to know a little, the fear will fade, or lessen, the sort of terrifying that made Natasha want to know her to get rid of it, and the sort of terrifying that was a comfort, something to feel safe around because Wanda wasn't against them anymore, and she had that power on her side.
"Maximoffs!" Tony yelled, drunk. For someone who hosted so many parties, he really knew how to get himself wasted at the end of every one of it. And yes, he did host a party. You'd think he wouldn't, considering Ultron appeared after a party, but then again, it was Tony. "Finally out of your hobbit hole! Come join us! Come! Sonic and Sabrina the Teenage Witch--"
Wanda hissed inwardly, the hiss of someone annoyed. Pietro placed a hand on the small of her back and she quieted. There was something dangerous and dark, an uncontrolled anger in Wanda.
"--will make this game interesting." Tony said, apparently impervious to Wanda's annoyance.
"You had a party?" She asked.
"Yeah!"
"You are drunk?" Pietro asked.
"Hmm, nooo. No-- no-- just tipsy. I'm just tipsy. Not drunk."
Wanda looked to Pietro with a knowing look and he nodded in return. Was that a twin thing or did they just have a telepathic conversation?
"What game?" Pietro asked.
Wanda began to nod, then stopped, and did a double take to look at Pietro with a surprised look in her sometimes-blue, sometimes-green, sometimes a combination of both sea green and blue (and of course, sometimes red) expressive eyes.
"Never Have I Ever!" Tony declared raising his glass. The rest of the Avengers sitting around him raised their glass weakly, even Natasha, just to humour him.
Pietro turned to Wanda and she shook her head, he nodded, she shook her head harder, but he mouthed something--welt? Welv? Elf? Twelf? Oh, twelve--and she rolled her eyes, but let Pietro take her hand and drag her towards them.
Twin thing, then.
She remained quiet and though there was an empty space next to Natasha, Wanda pushed Pietro towards her and sat on the other side of Pietro. She obviously didn't want to sit next to the Russian spy. Natasha could understand that. Pietro turned to Wanda with a questioning look and she kept her eyes averted. It was becoming very clear to Natasha that Wanda wasn't a very vocal type of person, perhaps the quiet type. She could see that, especially considering Wanda's fashion choices, all the dark clothing and accessories and the eyeliner-eyeshadow. A sort of emo style. When she looked up, she realized that Wanda was looking back at her.
Had Wanda been reading her mind?
"What is behind you?" Wanda asked, her voice thick with her Sokovian accent. Natasha felt a pang of guilt for immediately assuming that the girl had read her mind. She turned behind her to see one of the paintings that Tony had bought, she didn't know who the artist was or what the name of the painting was.
"Just something Tony bought. A painting from some high-end place, probably, or an indie painter. Tony has variety, and all that."
Wanda nodded, then turned away, and Pietro patted her hands, which rested on top of her lap. She nodded, tense and stiff; uncomfortable. Was she not comfortable with big groups or talking a lot in front of people? Or was she uncomfortable because of certain people in the Avengers? It would make sense, Tony had killed their parents, Steve was righteous and they were recently fighting on the wrong side, Thor was a God, Vision was a synthezoid or something, Pietro had almost died for Clint and Clint had zapped Wanda with an arrow, and she was a killer. The twins--or apparently, just Wanda--had every reason to feel uncomfortable, but she hoped they would grow comfortable later on.
She tore her eyes away from the Sokovian, and tried to focus back into the game.
"You two are the only one who hasn't had turns, Maximoffs. Go first."
Wanda's jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed in a sharp cold glare, intimidating, like Natasha's glare. Tony raised his hands in surrender, then wrapped his arms around himself and shivered mockingly.
"Damn, Little Witch. Scary much, alright, no turn then. But-- do you guys know how to play this game?"
"You say something you have never done, and those who have done it drink?" Pietro said.
"Ye-- are you two even legal to drink?"
"We have been legal to drink for years, Stark." Wanda said, a poison in her tone.
"I meant in America, Sabrina."
"Same fucking answer, tin-man." Wanda swore.
Everyone went silent-- except for Tony, "She's got magic and sass." laughed Tony. "Alright then, Never Have I Ever, drinking edition. Can the mean one please pass the liquor."
Natasha glowered, rolling her eyes at Tony Stark's nicknames, but did so, to Pietro who took it from her hands gently.
"Never have I ever..." he said, his accent even thicker than Wanda's, but still understandable. He smirked towards Wanda and smiled. "Never have I ever flirted with my boyfriend's sister, while she was in a relationship too, and had basically an unofficial relationship with the sister, and an official one with the brother."
That was a pretty specific 'never have I ever', so Natasha was pretty sure that was directly aimed at Wanda. Their relationship was so sweet and something that no one else had. Except for Natasha-- the twins reminded her of her and Yelena.
Wanda pursed her lips, and clicked her tongue. "Alright, fine." She roughly took the bottle from Pietro's hands and drank from the bottle, chugging some down easily. "Never have I ever actually gotten a girl to ask me out."
Natasha was a little surprised by that, she had assumed Wanda to be straight, though maybe she shouldn't have to be honest, considering her style. But, to hear that-- well, maybe she wasn't gay, and maybe Natasha was just jumping to conclusions. Wanda might have just been saying it in general. Well, then again, Pietro had just said she flirted with her boyfriend's brother while she was taken, so maybe she was gay.
Pietro took the bottle, and drank from it, patting Wanda's back sympathetically, and Steve, Sam, Tony, and most of the men--aside from Vision--in the room took a drink from the bottle. Then it came back to Natasha. She drank from it too. Wanda coughed out of nowhere, like she had choked on air. Pietro rubbed her back in consolation, while Natasha stared on in confusion and amusement.
"You okay?" Natasha and Pietro asked at the same time.
"Ye-Yeah." Wanda answered, red from embarrassment and looking to the side, avoiding eye contact with Natasha and Pietro.
"Who wants to go?" Steve asked. Vision reached for it, surprising everyone.
Natasha watched on in amusement, wondering what he would say. He didn't have a lot of
"Never Have I Ever drunk dialled my ex-- that is how this game works, yes?"
Sam laughed. "Yeah, pretty much, not sure if it counts if you've never had a girlfriend before-- have you had a girlfriend before?"
Wanda tensed.
Vision shook his head. "No, but I found the question on the internet and thought I should at least try to participate."
Tony and Sam laughed, Steve chuckled, and Wanda leaned over Natasha and Pietro to pat Vision's hand in comfort while he was confused, then with a flick of her hands, pulled the bottle to her hands with her magic.
"Does it count if it wasn't really a dial, more like a show-up-at-their-house-in-3AM-because-you-don't-have-a-phone type of thing?"
Tony shrugged, "Sure, witchy, why not."
Wanda's hand found its way on top of her thigh, and squeezed as the younger girl lifted herself back up, using Natasha as support, once she was upright, Wanda's hand caressed her thigh as it left her and while Natasha near held her breath, and her brain halted, almost malfunctioning, Wanda had already moved on, pushing the bottle of liquor towards Pietro. The sensation hadn't yet left her even though Wanda's hand and attention already had.
"Never have I ever given a pep-talk during battle."
Clint, Steve, Sam, Tony, Rhodey, and so on passed around the liquor. Of course they had.
"Never have I ever gotten my hair stuck on something during battle?" says Steve.
Wanda, Thor, Pietro, and Natasha took a drink. Long hair was inconvenient sometimes. She didn't know how Pietro got his hair stuck, but she found she wasn't really surprised.
The game continued on, then Tony said--
"Never have I ever bitten a lover during sex."
Wanda took a drink and Pietro spun around so fast that he knocked Natasha's arm, and Natasha ended up spilling the bottle of liquor on Wanda's top, since she had been reaching for the liquor, and had just gotten it when Pietro whirled around dramatically.
"Ah-- I-- I'm sorry, Wanda." Pietro said. "Do-- do you-- can you change into-- Oh, right. Yeah..."
Wanda shook her head, "No, really, it's alright. It's just clothes--"
"Sorry for that," Natasha spoke. The twins' head snapped to her almost instantaneously. "Uhm, we're basically the same size, so do you wanna just go up to my room and I'll lend you a shirt? Or– or a dress, I guess–"
She ignored Clint's staring. Yes, she hadn't had anyone in her room, in... pretty much ever. But whatever, it wasn't anything, he was just being nosey and reading into things, as usual.
"A shirt works." Wanda said, with a small shy smile. "Thank you, Natasha."
Natasha nodded and left the living room, towards the elevator, and Wanda's quiet steps followed behind her, and then they entered the elevator. In the enclosed metal box going up to the fifth floor, Natasha couldn't help but notice Wanda's presence sharply, every move she made, and every breath she took, but not out of fear or the sort of noticing someone does when they're around danger, the sort of noticing one does when they're near someone they fancy and it makes them act like nervous schoolgirls. Natasha was paying attention to the way her wet dress clung to her skin, and first, how it hugged her body even more than her dress already did, then how thin she was, her flat stomach, then that turned into a have-cold-water-thrown-at-you sort of realisation at how thin Wanda really was. Almost unhealthily, like she was a few meals skipped away from starting to show her ribs a little.
"Have you been eating enough?" The question slips past her lips before she can stop herself.
Wanda turns to her, calm, and eerily quiet like she has been for most of the night, and since Natasha's met her, unless Pietro was involved, in which case, she was almost like an entirely different person. Though the age-beyond-her-years look in her eyes still remained, no matter who she was with.
"Up until a day ago, my brother—who has super speed and faster metabolism—has been living in poverty, off of what we could steal or salvage from the trash cans. So, probably not."
Natasha berated herself internally. It had slipped her mind so easily that Sokovia was not just a war-torn country, but a third-rate war torn country. Of course it was also a country in poverty. She had been in Sokovia, she saw the state of the streets, and yet she still let it slip that not only were they orphans, they were homeless, and being homeless in a war and poverty stricken third world country often left you having to resort to unsavoury means. Like stealing and scavenging, but still starving.
"Right." She nodded, and turned back towards the elevator door, then glanced towards the floor number. Just a few more minutes.
"Were–" Wanda coughed shortly, looking every bit as awkward as she sounded, asking this question. "Were you– are you and– are you dating anyone on the team? I heard some people say that you and the Hul– Bruce, were a thing. But I also heard some people say you and Steve were uhm, together."
Natasha was surprised to hear this. She hadn't heard any of this said around her, although maybe it had been just a little bit obvious with her and Bruce but her and Steve? Where had that come from? They were just friends. Plus, he seemed kind of in love, and still stuck on two people from his past before the 70 years of ice.
She chuckled, "No." Shaking her head, at even just the thought, also especially considering what Bruce had done– ran away from her like... "No. I'm not dating anyone. I don't know where those rumours came from, but no."
"Oh." Wanda nodded. "Right. Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious. Sorry."
Natasha shifted, "yeah, no it's alright, I get it. You don't have to apologize."
Wanda nodded, again. "Okay. Sorry, anyways." She winced.
Natasha sighed. "Okay, look. I know we got off on the wrong foot."
Some sort of pain or something flashed in her eyes, and then that's when it began: An endless string of apologies slipping from the younger brunette, "Right. I know. I'm sorry. I know that that was my fault, I wasn't– I– I'm sorry. For what I did. For what I would have done. For– I'm just really sorry. I know I had no right to– to do any of that. I just- I– I'm really sorry." Wanda genuinely looked like she was on the verge of tears. "I didn't mean to do what I did— I didn't know what I was doing, but I know that isn't an excuse and I hurt you— I hurt all of you. And I really am– I feel so horrible about it, I'm so so sorry. I hope you can forgive me, but I understand if you can't, I didn't know that the Hex— I mean, what I did to your mind was... I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's alright!" Natasha said, surprised at how much guilt the woman carried. She understood, because she had done her fair share of bad things, under someone else's manipulation. And she didn't really do any lasting damage somehow, and she had turned to the good side in the end, so she was all forgiven. She was all forgiven long ago, but the woman didn't seem to even know that. "No one's holding it against you. I was just going to say that– that I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I want to change that. So let's start off on the right foot, and reintroduce ourselves— Hi, I'm Natasha Romanoff. Who are you?" She stretched her hand out towards Wanda.
Wanda seemed stunned by her words, staring at her like she was a curious specimen, for so long that she almost took her hand back, thinking that was a bad idea, but then Wanda's lips tugged up into a tentative shy smile (it was beautiful), and shook her hand. "I'm Wanda Maximoff, it's nice to meet you."
They shared a smile just as the elevator doors dinged open, and moved apart. Natasha gestured to let Wanda go out first, and exited after the younger woman. She led Wanda to her room, and walked to her drawers, to pick out a shirt for her. She knew Wanda had a smaller body than her in... everything. Again, she wasn't blind, and she had looked.
She chose the safe option and just grabbed a black oversized sleep shirt that she hadn't worn many times, and tossed it over to Wanda. Wanda grabbed it in the air with surprisingly fast reflexes, and muttered a quick "thanks" and despite the fact she had already started walking in the direction of said bathroom, also asked "where's your bathroom?" Natasha pointed in the same direction that she had been walking towards, and she nodded, muttered another shy "thank you" and entered the bathroom, holding the shirt close to her.
Natasha stood, awkwardly, in her own room, before she decided to snap out of it and just sit at her bed. She didn't know why she suddenly felt a little nervous. Maybe it was because she hadn't had anyone in her room before, except for Clint, but she didn't really let him stay for too long, and yet here Wanda was, the girl who literally pulled out her worst memories of the Red Room to the front of her mind, and they'd been in her room for more than 5 minutes now. Or maybe it was the fact that Wanda, who she couldn't deny was attractive, was about to come out wearing her shirt, and she knew it didn't mean anything, but Clint would obviously read into it anyway.
The bathroom door opened, and Natasha's eyes snapped towards the exiting figure. Wanda had made her sleep shirt look cute, and somewhat stylish, tucking it slightly under itself so it wasn't as long, and paired with her skirt, and thigh-high socks, she looked good. Cute. And Natasha felt something stirring inside of her at the sight of Wanda in her shirt, in those thigh high socks, fiddling with the sides of her skirt, and looking at the ground, then up at her in a shy manner, her lower lip between her teeth nervously.
"Do I look okay?"
Natasha took a deep breath, though it felt like the breath she took caught in her breath as she tried to speak. "Yeah, you look...amazing" She blinked, and smiled, or tried to. "I mean great. You look great. You wear my sleep shirt better than I do. Err, you should keep it."
Wanda smiled shyly, again, releasing her lower lip, though still fidgeting and looking at that ground in that adorable way. Innocent. Natasha felt an unfamiliar urge inside of her, to protect Wanda. She repressed it, and focused instead on the slow heat building inside of her. Lust, that she could deal with far easier. "Thanks." She walked towards the door, then looked back when she noticed Natasha wasn't following. "Are you coming?" She asked over her shoulder.
"No," Natasha replied. "You go on ahead, I gotta get something from my room anyway. I'll follow after you later."
Wanda nodded, and left the room, making sure to close the door behind her as quietly as she could, probably in an attempt to not distract her. Fucking adorable. She takes a seat at the edge of the table and rubs her face with her hands, trying to sober herself up.
'Get yourself together, Romanoff.' , she thinks. 'She's been through a lot, you can't be thinking of this sort of shit right now. Bruce just left you, and you're just looking for a replacement. Don't do this to her. Get your shit together.'
Natasha hopes she can get this... whatever this is– under control before she ends up hurting Wanda. Or causing her to run away.