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Standing at her door, hand poised to knock, he paused. It had been weeks since their chance reunion and her invitation. Had it been too long? Had she changed her mind? Self doubt was a new sensation for Vision. Nothing clouded his thoughts more than concern for her. His distraction. Trusting in their constant honesty, he tapped his knuckles gently against the door.
“Wanda, it’s me.”
He heard her moving about in the small space on the other side. More importantly, he heard her stop moving suddenly. Her feet hurried to answer his call. The look on her face when she opened the door swept away any worries that might have lingered. Her smile was radiant as ever, eyes just as bright.
“You came.”
Was that surprise? She stood in the doorway for a moment too long, just looking at him. He could feel her seeing through the dirty blonde hair and pale face. He could feel her seeing who he really was. Her smile was infectious. She laughed gently and finally broke her stare long enough to step aside and gesture for him to enter.
The counter covered in small tins, Wanda had almost turned the kitchen space into what he expected from a lab. Vision headed straight for the display, curiosity in his eyes. Each tin held a different spice. The scents that rose from them mingled in the air to something familiar and foreign all at once. Whatever she was doing, he had interrupted and he wanted to understand.
“Are you cooking?”
Wanda shut the door tight and followed behind by a few steps. A soft noise, almost amused, broke her silence. She stepped around the counter to lift a steaming mug from the center of her organized chaos.
“Not exactly. I’m just making coffee.” Her smile could have stopped the world from turning. “I don’t have a recipe so it’s harder than it looks.”
“Show me.”
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The enthusiasm in his request made her laugh. Before everything fell apart, this was what they did. She would be doing something, anything, and feel his eyes on her. Then he would smile and ask why, how. With a patience she didn’t know she held, she would always explain. She was never quite sure if he was trying to see the universe through her eyes or understand how emotions worked. Perhaps both if she were being honest. It was easy to fall back into that routine. The allure of pretending for happier times was enticing to her, too.
“Alright.” She lifted one tin at a time for his approval and study. She unfolded the story like a precious secret just for him. Her hands kept busy, she kept looking up at him for approval and reaction.
“I helped this woman once. Her daughter was being pursued by a man she did not love.” Her voice lowered for a moment on the sentiment. “He was terrible. A very dangerous man with powerful friends. I helped them leave. We drugged his meal so he would sleep and packed a bag with everything she could carry and never looked back. I helped them get new names and start over. Dasha and Anna they became. When they were safe, she insisted on thanking me and made a great meal. At the end we had coffee. She told me how happy she was that her daughter would be away from that kind of life.”
Wanda lifted a tin of cloves to her nose and sniffed it carefully before offering it for his inspection as well. This time she couldn’t help but look away. The memory held a tenderness that no one else had been able to see and she knew it. For him she would make the exception.
“Hope is a precious thing and she got it back. They even sent me postcards from all the places they visited. Before I had special powers, before everything changed, I was able to do something good. When I need a reminder of that, I make her coffee.”
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Cataloging each spice she presented to him, he fell into her story. It was about more than just a simple drink. This was important, a part of her, and he gave it the attention it truly deserved. As it unfolded, Vision recognized more than just the tone of her voice or the tint of her cheeks.
“Her coffee reminds you of their story and it reminds you that you are a good person.” His observation deepened the color of her face and widened her smile.
“Yes.”
“You have made this before. After Lagos.”
Her smile faltered. “Yes.”
He stepped around to her side of the counter and gestured to the materials. “May I? Since there isn’t a recipe, I might do a little better than the paprikash.”
She laughed a little at that, mood coming back around. “Of course.”
Closing his eyes, he filtered through his memories back to that day. It was a clear enough picture. Avoiding all other information, he paused and focused on the smell of the kitchen after she had made her coffee. Much like all his other memories of her, this one was heavy with details. For her needs now, he would try his best.
He lifted a pinch here and there from a few of the tins. These were slowly added to the waiting bowl, already filled with beans. Disturbing them in their storage allowed some of the aromas to hint into the air. Wanda smiled as he worked, watching quietly. The ease in her trust caught him a bit off-guard and he paused for a moment to stare. A wiggle of her eyebrows made him smile and get back to work.
Once satisfied, he poured the whole mixture gently into a grinder. There was something so wonderfully simple and domestic about it. More than a conversation at the base they once called home, no one would be joining them. A true, honest time alone with Wanda was something he didn’t know he desired until this very moment. Before he could work that thought deeper, the coffee production was complete. Adding two sugars like she always did, he offered her the first mug carefully.
“I’m not sure how this might taste, but the smell is just about right.”
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Watching him work out her problem with such conviction stirred her heart. It was one thing to know that he would come here, that he would set aside the rules because she asked it of him. It was something else to lay open a vulnerable place in her heart and mind and see what he did next. Always driven to follow her instincts, Wanda was happy to see this plan work out so well. She could almost pretend that everything else was very far away.
As he ground the beans and spices together, there was no need for conversation. The silence was as comforting as the smells rising between them. It was strange to Wanda, watching him this way. He still wore his disguise and while the blonde man before him was quite handsome, it wasn’t the face she searched for. The furrowed brow and nose were just so human. She could see the Vision she knew beneath that mask. More importantly, she could feel his mind. That was enough to bring color to her cheeks when he caught her gaze.
She took the warm mug into her hands, breathing in the scent. It tickled her nose with spice and a knot of tension eased within her mind. He had gotten better at this. Taking a careful sip, she closed her eyes. The bite of clove easily shifted to the warm cinnamon, then smokey cardamom.
“It’s almost perfect.”
Setting the mug down, she closed the distance between them. Her palms still heated from the drink, she pressed one to his cheek. The honest gratitude and appreciation in her eyes echoed the thoughts she imparted with such a gentle touch. His smile in return meant everything.
“Almost? Please explain.”
“It’s about more than just a cup of coffee. That’s a thing you can hold and consume. Nice in the moment but then gone. It’s the reason for it that matters.” Her thumb traced against the surface of his cheek. She wanted to say so much. It bubbled within her in a messy rush. Finding the right words was very much like choosing spices for the right balance. “Like this face. I know why you wear it but it’s just a thing. It’s not who you are.”
His eyes widened. She felt his surprise through their touch and nodded, encouraging. “I am learning while able to blend in,” he explained. “But I find no one that can show me such a distracting point of view as you always have. If you so wish, then I will not wear it now.” The disguise melted away from his features, showing the rich tones of his true skin.
“There you are.” Her smile brightened. “Your mask is handsome, but I prefer the real you.”
When her lips lifted to his, the taste of the drink was still there. Like the growing feeling in her chest and the warmth of his arms as they pulled her close, it was something they could share.