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“I believe we may have vastly underestimated the amount of thank you cards we needed.”
Wanda rolls her eyes at the foreboding tone of his observation, an action imperceivable to her husband, her robed back to him as her hands unpack yet another wedding gift that arrived while they were in French Polynesia. “Do we have to send cards to all of them, Vizh?”
A gentle, though teasing, nudge from his foot causes her to turn towards him. She grins at the sight, Vision seated on the ground behind her, leaned back comfortably against the blue suede couch gifted to them by a local furniture store they saved when a possessed semi-truck almost crashed into it. He’s in a robe as well, a habit they formed while honeymooning and one he has blissfully continued, the comfortable and relaxed air it gives him is incredibly alluring. ”According to all of the experts, it is socially frowned upon if you do not handwrite individual notes for each and every person who has gifted you something throughout the nuptial process.”
The thing about being an Avenger is that everyone knows you, and the thing about everyone knowing you is that they all know the big moments as well, particularly when you are friends with someone who can’t hold a secret, like Tony Stark. From almost the minute Vision first told Tony they were engaged, gifts of all shapes, sizes, and contents (including some nasty messages as well) flooded their mailroom. Their entire guest bedroom is still packed full of unopened gift boxes. “And how many people are we supposed to thank?”
Vision coughs, shifting nervously as he scrolls through the list of names. “Approximately eight hundred and eleven.”
A slow, patient nod helps her process this news. “So you want us to handwrite over eight hundred thank you notes?”
“I-” his eyes wander to the side, mind churning away to determine the best course of action, “I do not know if it is in our best interest to shirk social responsibility for something so monumental as our wedding.”
Wanda understands the sentiment, accepts that, given the mixed and sometimes contentious reaction to their relationship over the years, it is probably smart to appease as many people as possible, but she also thinks sometimes social rules are perfectly okay to break. “Can we just write a generic thank you and have it sent to everyone individually?”
The aghast widening of his eyes contradicts the fluffy robe encasing his body to create an adorable juxtaposition. “Wanda, that would break every rule of thank you cards. It may even be worse than not sending any at all.”
“Why don’t we just release a statement,” she drops her hand to grab his foot, shaking it encouragingly, “make it heartfelt and sincere, and then we don’t have to write any cards.” Amusement is nowhere to be found in his face, his slouched body slowly straightening at the affront to politeness. So Wanda decides to try a slightly different tactic, turning back to the boxes and digging through them until she pulls out a green reptilian-esque mask. “All right Maximoff, how would you write a thank you card for this?”
“What is that?”
Wanda shrugs, stretching her leg out to push the flap of the box up enough for her to read the return address. “Luke and Danny sent it, so who knows.”
The list of addresses is placed on the coffee table as Vision reaches out, wiggling his fingers in a sign that he wants the mask. Wanda twists to watch him, her hand braced on his bare thigh as her eyes follow the turning of the object in his hands. “Um, Thank you very much for the,” the lizard face rotates towards her as Vision tips it up to see if there is a tag inside of it, “stunning Idol of Zor. It will surely become an item of conversation and pride in our house-”
“And possibly turn out to be possessed and try to kill us.”
Vision’s demeanor cracks, a tiny smile finally showing up on his face. “Possibly.” A long, contemplative stare at the unconventional gift leads to a shift in his body, shoulders loosening in mild defeat, “Perhaps etiquette can be amended for some of the gifts,” he places the mask down, “though I insist we still write notes for our closest friends and some key dignitaries.”
“How many would that be?”
His lips move silently as he tallies up the new total, head nodding once he seems to reach a conclusion. “Perhaps three hundred?”
Compromise is one of the vertebrae of a relationship, integral to coexisting and loving, and so Wanda accepts a reduction in notes. “I think that’s fair, but maybe we can start tomorrow,” she reaches out, fingers wrapping around the sash of his robe, a gentle, teasing tug inching her husband’s body closer, “I have a much better idea of how we can spend the first night in our house.”
Now his grin spreads from cheek to cheek, eyes and mind lighting up at the suggestion, “I think that is an excellent idea.” Vision eases forward enough to press his lips to hers, and Wanda is filled with an incredible, effervescent gratitude at being able to love this man and be loved in return.