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Vision waits until the very last second of the credits have rolled by to wake Wanda, and even then he feels guilty. They had been having one of their increasingly frequent movie nights in Wanda’s quarters, curled up on the couch together with the lights dimmed and a blanket thrown over their laps - the latter for Wanda’s benefit, of course - and halfway through the film, Wanda had rested her head against his shoulder with a soft, content sigh. Forty-seven minutes ago, she fell asleep, and Vision has held perfectly still ever since, afraid to so much as breathe lest he wake her. It’s helpful, of course, that he doesn’t actually need to breathe.
It is a very human thing, cuddling, the need to seek out prolonged skin contact. Necessary to humans for the release of oxytocin, but not strictly necessary for a synthetic being such as Vision. Therefore, there is no particular reason that Vision should derive such pleasure in the simple act, and yet lately he has found himself seeking out as many reasons to be around Wanda as he can, in the hopes that she might initiate such contact. He has spent many hours of solitude contemplating this sudden profound urge - present only when in the company of Wanda alone, even though he enjoys spending time with the others as well - and he’s come to the conclusion that he has been harboring romantic attraction to Wanda for quite some time without realizing it.
It’s a realization that brings him equal parts excitement and alarm, joy and anxiety. A year ago he would not have claimed himself advanced enough to feel such a thing, and yet he cannot deny that what he feels for Wanda is different than what he feels for others he calls friends, and that alone is enough to give him joy, that he is evolving just as Helen said he could. But equally there is the fear that Wanda will discover his feelings and be repulsed, or perhaps worse, pity him. Vision has never had to face rejection before, and the idea would cause him nausea if he had a digestive system.
And so here he is, being greedy and jumping at every opportunity he has to be around Wanda, reveling in the smallest slice of happiness that comes from having her fall asleep on him. He’s entranced by the way it feels to know that Wanda must feel so at ease around him that she can sleep tucked into his side; he’s enamored by the way her breath feels on his neck, the tickle of her hair on his chin, the warmth of her body heat seeping into his skin sensors. But it is past midnight, the movie is at its end, and Wanda will be sore if she sleeps in this position, so Vision gently begins to rouse her as the credits roll and FRIDAY brings the lights back up.
“Wanda?” he says, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t startle her as he nudges her. “I believe it’s time for bed.”
Wanda groans, rubbing her face. “Wha’ time izzit?” she mumbles.
“Twelve thirty-seven a.m.,” he answers, then hesitates. “Would… would you like me to carry you to bed?”
“Mmm,” Wanda says. “‘Kay.”
Vision exhales slowly, then stands, picking Wanda up as gently as he can, and she immediately throws one arm around his neck and nestles into his arms, and Vision feels a strange tightening sensation in his throat as he carries her towards her bedroom. She’s already in her pajamas, thankfully, so he simply pulls back her bedding awkwardly and lays her down with her head on her pillow, but when he goes to stand, Wanda’s arm tightens around his neck. “Vision,” she mumbles, eyes closed. “Mm. Stay.”
Vision freezes. “I… don’t think that would be wise,” he stutters, heart rate accelerating. It would be inconsiderate to take her up on such an offer when she isn’t coherent enough to remember asking it. “...You would be more comfortable by yourself, I think.”
Wanda sighs. “Mm, okay.” He expects her release him then, but instead she tugs him closer and presses their lips together, just for a split second, but it makes Vision’s heart skip a beat in surprise; by the time he even registers that Wanda is kissing him, she’s already pulling away to flop onto her pillow, and Vision is left frozen in place, bent over her bed and gaping down at her where she lays. It takes him a rather embarrassingly long time to remember how to move, and when he does, he flees right out of her room and phases through the walls until he reaches his own quarters, his heart leaping and tumbling in his chest like a shoe in a washing machine.
Vision sits on the edge of the bed. “FRIDAY?” he asks slowly.
“Yes, Vision?” his code-sister asks.
He touches his mouth with his fingertips. “Did Wanda kiss me?”
“She did, yes. Why didn’t you kiss her back?”
“She’s asleep,” Vision says weakly. “She… she didn’t mean it.”
He can hear the judgement in FRIDAY’s tone. “If you say so,” she says dubiously.
He lays down on the bed. He doesn’t sleep at all.
Wanda finds him the following morning, well rested and freshly showered, and she looks as beautiful as ever while Vision fights not to fidget in the middle of the kitchen. He feels the distinct urge to run when Wanda wanders over nearer to him, grabbing for a coffee mug. His only hope is that she doesn’t remember, but when she looks up at him and blushes as she bites her lip, his hope is immediately squashed.
“So…” she says slowly. “Last night was fun.”
He clears his throat. “Yes.” He’s immensely grateful he can’t blush.
Wanda rubs the back of her neck. “Um. Vision, did I… kiss you last night?”
Vision briefly considers lying, but pushes the idea away immediately. Wanda deserves better than that, is owed better than that. “You did,” he says quietly.
She makes an embarrassed sound, and Vision winces a little. “Oh god,” she mutters, “I’m really sorry. I get clingy when I’m tired, and I think I accidentally, well, kiss-ambushed you. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says before he can think better of it, and Wanda turns so her whole body is facing him, eyes widening slightly, and Vision freezes in mild panic.
She tilts her head to the side. “I… don’t.”
There’s something in her tone that makes his heart flutter wildly. It does that a lot when he’s around Wanda. Perhaps he has less reason to fear rejection than he thought. “No,” he whispers. “You don’t.”
Wanda sets her half-filled mug down and steps closer, looking up at him with soft, shining eyes. She’s smiling, mouth curled up at one end, so beautiful it hurts. She touches his hand and he jumps in surprise. “Vision,” she whispers. “Viz. Do you want me to kiss you?”
Vision swallows. There is hope in Wanda’s eyes. His heart flip flops in his chest. “I do,” he confesses, breathless, and Wanda beams, throwing her arms around him.
“Good,” she laughs, “good, because I’ve been dying to kiss you for ages, and god I can’t believe that our first kiss was when I was basically unconscious. That’s so embarrassing, Jesus.”
Vision feels emboldened, and puts his hands on Wanda’s hips, his toes curling when she sways closer, her face inches from his own. “I didn’t kiss you back,” he offers, feeling shockingly giddy, “so perhaps we can discount it as our first kiss. If you’d like a chance to re-do it, of course.”
“Of course,” she breathes.
He strokes her hips with his thumbs, mesmerized, feeling dangerously, deliriously joyful. “Wanda,” he says.
“Vision,” she says back, pressing even closer. “Kiss me.”
He bends his neck and she meets him halfway, and oh, this is how it feels to be kissed properly. He slides his hands up her back, gasping a little against her lips, and he feels Wanda’s smile against his mouth when she teases his lips with her tongue before deepening the kiss, and Vision feels a groan rise up from deep within her chest as he pulls her flush against his body, aching to be closer, as close as he can get. She grazes her fingertips up the back of his neck and he shivers, tangling one hand in her still-wet hair, and Wanda goes boneless against him, sighing
When he pulls away, her mouth is swollen, and they’re both panting for breath. “That was one hell of a first kiss,” Wanda gasps out, and Vision beams.
“Yes,” he says, “it was,” and claims a second, and third, and fourth.