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Summers meant different things for Wanda as she grew up.
Up until she was seven years old, summers meant going to her grandparents’ house in a secluded village by the edge of the mountains where she and Pietro would run around amidst the chamomile flowers that grew in the open field, lie down on their porch to watch as the night sky lit up in a seemingly endless starry canvas, the smell of their dedushka’s cooking lingering in the air, mixing with the sounds of their babushka softly strumming her battered old guitar.
After they died — at the hospital, a little after Wanda and Pietro’s eighth birthday — summers meant going to work with their parents at the local farmer’s market; but it didn’t feel like work to Wanda at all. They spent the long, sunny days together as a family, and afterward, she and Pietro would sneak up to the roof of their apartment building to watch the stars. They weren’t as clear and bright as they were in the mountains but they still had the same breathtaking effect above the city’s dimming lights.
After a mortar shell took away their parents alongside their building and half the city, Wanda didn’t think she would get to have any more summers; not after spending two days under the wreckage hoping against hope that they got to survive (even if she didn’t think there was anything else left to survive for).
Yet, somehow, she did. Both her and Pietro got their chance at having summers again, far away from the place they once called home, somewhere that became just what they needed.
Summers in America were different. They were far louder, time moving faster, yet the days dragged on, long, warm, and humid. Summers in America became a synonym for gas station slurpees staining your tongue blue, going on endless bike rides around their neighborhood, watching forest (and actual) stars, and staying up until her eyes couldn’t stand to be open any longer.
It was freedom and safety all wrapped in one.
It was home.
//
That was, until the summer after they all turned sixteen — aside from Yelena, who had been a few days shy from turning twelve — when Coulson and Melina offered them the chance to start what they called the Avengers Initiative, funded by S.H.I.E.L.D.
Natasha and Pietro had promptly said yes, both excited at the prospect of training to become just like Melina, Coulson, and Alexei. Wanda had been a little hesitant, though. She liked their summers the way they were; changing that, again, would mean changing the very thing that had come to mean so much to her.
It took one pleading look from her brother and one smile followed by a, “Come on, it’ll be fun!” from Natasha to convince Wanda that maybe this change of plans wouldn’t be so bad. They would all be together — Yelena had already managed to convince the adults to let her tag along — and it could be something that she would actually enjoy.
They would be training to save the world, after all. Wanda had first-hand experience in knowing how much the world needed saving.
So she said yes.
//
As it turned out, training to become a world-saving spy wasn’t as fun as Melina and Coulson had made it out to be.
Wanda had never been prone to athletics, so the physical part of the training was the hardest for her. Natasha tried to help, dragging her to the gym and giving her tips on her form when they sparred; it was nice, and it helped, but not enough.
Three years into their training and hand-to-hand combat was still something she struggled with.
Wanda huffed, beads of sweat collecting on her brow, some escaping and running down her face. Natasha hovered just out of reach, waiting for a moment so Wanda could collect herself before resuming their spar.
If they could even call it that. From Wanda’s point of view, it was more of her flailing about trying to get a hit in and Natasha with an amused smirk on her face dodging her easily and, every now and then, knocking Wanda on her ass for her efforts.
“Romanoff!” Fury’s voice boomed from across the mat, where he kept a watchful eye over everything. “Stop pulling your punches!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Natasha called back cheekily but very clearly lightened her right hook’s strength, giving Wanda enough time to block it.
She had been doing it ever since they had been assigned to spar together — Natasha fought gracefully, diligently, never allowing Wanda to get a good punch in but also never going all out on her as she normally did with Yelena, Pietro, or Clint.
“If you keep going easy on me,” Wanda grunted as Natasha dodged her swift kick easily. “How am I going to learn?”
Natasha arched an eyebrow at her, amused, as she blocked another one of Wanda’s advances. “You think I’m going easy on you?”
“You’re never this defensive with Yel—” she yelped when Natasha used her attack’s forward momentum to pull Wanda towards her and to the ground, body pressing tightly against hers.
“Is this better?” she said in a tone that could only be defined as sultry as she hovered over Wanda, both of them panting.
It took everything in Wanda not to squirm under her. “No,” she huffed, glad she could hide her fluster behind her exertion. “Like I was saying, you don’t act like that with Yelena. Or Pietro.”
Or Clint, she thought bitterly. She wasn’t fond of Fury’s new protegee, a pesky little man with a bow and arrow — who did he think he was, showing off like that? — who often got paired up with Natasha in training and got along with her too well for Wanda’s liking.
“You’re missing the point, kroshka,” Natasha smirked at her again, Wanda huffing as she got up and extended her hands to help her get up as well. “I don’t wanna hurt you like I wanna hurt them.”
“And you won’t,” she reassured her with a pointed look, unable to stop herself from gently squeezing the offered hands. “So stop going easy on me.”
“She will,” Maria Hill said sternly, approaching them with a clipboard in hand. “Romanoff, you’re with Barton. Maximoff, with Rambeau.”
Natasha rolled her eyes at Maria but turned to smile at Wanda before walking away. “See you for lunch?”
Wanda nodded, hoping Natasha hadn’t noticed her clenched jaw as she laid eyes on Clint already waiting for Natasha with a too-wide grin, making a quip she couldn’t hear that caused Natasha to laugh before they started sparring.
Resisting the urge to go over and knock him on his ass herself, Wanda turned to her new partner and resumed her training as well.
//
Natasha was late, Wanda grumbled as she aggressively poked her salad.
It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but Wanda was already knee-deep into a swirling mess of feelings that left her to spiral with all the possibilities that could have made Natasha be late. Clint was a common feature in all of them, causing the green-eyed monster who had taken up residence in her chest since she had first seen him interact with Natasha to growl and roar fiercely, painfully.
It hurt and it made Wanda want to cry or scream or blast something into space — preferably Clint and his stupid archer ensemble.
(Never Natasha, no matter how frustrated she made her).
She hated feeling like this.
“Girl, you got murder in your eyes,” Wanda startled when her sparring partner, Monica, dropped her food tray in front of her with a clunk. “Who are we killing?”
“What?” Wanda squeaked, trying — and probably failing — to school her features into a more neutral expression. “No one.”
“Are you sure?” Monica quirked an eyebrow at her, biting into her crisp apple with a crunch. “Not even Link over there with your girlfriend?”
Surely enough, when Wanda looked over to where Monica was nodding, she saw Natasha and Clint in line for lunch. They were too far away for Wanda to hear them, but she took notice of Clint’s hand brushing against Natasha’s back, the way she touched his arm repeatedly as she animatedly talked about something.
It made her blood boil in anger. Wanda hated it.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” she ground her teeth so hard it actually hurt. “And I don’t wanna murder anyone.”
She was lying, of course. Blatantly so.
“We’re murdering someone?” Wanda groaned as Yelena flopped next to her, her own tray overflowing with food. “Wait, Wanda is murdering someone?” she asked with a wide-grin splitting her face.
“I am not!” she yelped indignantly just as Pietro joined them, almost knocking over his juice as he dropped his tray haphazardly on the table.
“What is Wanda doing now?” he asked, reaching over to steal the last of her fries before he sat down.
“Nothing,” she hissed, shooting a warning look at Monica, who smirked behind her pasta-laden fork.
If Wanda was going to kill anyone now, Monica was definitely high on her list.
“Plotting a murder,” Yelena replied, her smug grin turning into a pout when Wanda punched her arm. “Ow! Did you hit me?”
“What’s going on?”
Of course, Natasha would choose that precise moment to make her way over to them. With Clint in tow. And yet the floor never opened up to swallow her whole as Wanda so desperately wanted.
“Wanda is plotting a murd—hey!” Pietro yelped when she kicked him in the shins. “Why are you kicking me?”
“You deserve it,” she glowered at him. “Shut up.”
He was still moping as he bit into his sandwich, everybody taking his cue and moving on to other conversation topics. Wanda thought she was off the hook, but Natasha didn’t miss a beat before leaning, nothing but concern shining from her eyes.
“Is everything okay?” she whispered, close enough that her breath ghosted across Wanda’s neck and she had to suppress a shiver.
Why the universe was so set on testing Wanda like that, she had no idea, nor did she appreciate it.
“Don’t worry about it,” she managed a small smile for her, unable to straight-up lie to her face even as she refused to tell her the truth.
The monster curled around her chest whined pitifully as Natasha just kept shooting her worried glances throughout lunch.
//
Wanda was distracted the rest of the day, earning herself an extra mile run around the track field as punishment, making her late for dinner.
It was better that way, she thought, so she wouldn’t have to go through a repeat of lunchtime and end up saying or doing something she would regret later on. She wouldn’t have to face Monica’s knowing smirks, Natasha’s confused looks, or look at Clint at all. Instead, she quickly grabbed a sandwich and the last fruit cup from the cafeteria and ate them by the lake, watching as the sun sunk lower in the water and stars started to make their timid appearance in the sky.
The wind was starting to pick up, blowing leaves and specks of dust around her, but Wanda didn’t care. She was tired and her entire body ached and, yet, her mind was restless. She couldn’t stop thinking about Natasha and all the emotions she elicited within her; she felt like she was swimming in an ocean of uncertainty and chaos, unable to see things clearly, to breathe properly.
Sighing, Wanda knew she couldn’t prolong facing Natasha anymore so, reluctantly, she made her way back to the cabin she was sharing with Yelena, Monica, and Natasha. It was late enough that, hopefully, the other girls would be asleep, but Wanda knew Natasha would be waiting — if only to see that she was alright for herself.
And she wasn’t wrong.
“Hey,” Natasha softly greeted her when she came in. “Did you eat dinner?”
Wanda knew what she was asking — if everything was okay, was she feeling better, was there something she could do? — and a warm sort of feeling settled in her lower stomach, making her smile a little more genuine than she had all day.
“I did,” she reassured her before turning her back so she could slip on her sleepwear. “Got the last turkey sandwich.”
Natasha let out a chuckle. “I almost had to wrestle Clint to save that for you.”
Wanda was glad she had her back to Natasha so she couldn’t see her pained expression. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Wanda made her way back to the bunk bed they shared, not surprised to see Natasha waiting for her on her bed. “Want me to braid your hair?”
Wanda’s smile was bigger now, softer, her heart fluttering pleasantly in her chest for once, no monster in sight. It was a relief, even if she knew it wouldn’t last long.
“Yeah.”
//
She couldn’t sleep.
Try as she might, Wanda’s mind wasn’t allowing her body to rest; it had been over two hours since she had laid down, after Natasha braided her hair and climbed up to the top bunk wishing her a good night and sweet dreams, kroshka, and yet she couldn’t settle down enough to actually get a proper night’s sleep.
Tired of tossing and turning, she got up with a huff, trying to make as little noise as possible as she slipped out of the cabin, not bothering with shoes or a jacket. All she wanted was a moment of reprieve from the chaos inside her and there was only one place where she would be able to get it.
Wanda was sitting by the lake, her legs dangling from the pier as she stared absentmindedly at the sky sparkling in the water. The stars in the outskirts of Washington where they were shone as bright as they did in Sokovia, reminding her of simpler times; a time when she didn’t have to worry about big, conflicting feelings towards her best friend.
It wasn’t surprising for her that she ended up falling for Natasha — if she was being honest, it felt like she had always felt this way, ever since they had first met. It was a love deeply rooted in the way she cared for Wanda, how she always made her feel included, safe, loved, and in such an effortless way. After everything she had been through, Natasha became her flashlight, gently guiding Wanda back to a happier, less grief-struck version of herself.
Sometimes, it seemed like Natasha’s actions were different towards her, more earnest and tenderhearted, but she also knew that was just wishful thinking on her part. Being thoughtful and caring was just who Natasha was, with everyone.
And Wanda loved her for it.
She was so preoccupied with all the thoughts running circles in her head that she didn’t register light footsteps approaching until Natasha stopped right next to her, holding a jacket and stifling a yawn.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, gently wrapping her red jacket — the one Wanda often borrowed — around Wanda’s shoulder.
She hadn’t even realized how cold she was until the soft material touched her bare shoulders.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Wanda answered, shooting her a thankful smile.
Natasha looked disheveled, fresh out of sleep, and utterly gorgeous in her opinion, with mussed hair and green eyes still drowsy, as if she wasn’t fully awake yet.
“Nightmares?” she frowned, sitting next to Wanda, so close there was no space between them.
It was the same as it ever had been, how they always sat when they were together, but it wreaked havoc inside Wanda all the same, her stomach clenching and her heart pounding forcefully against her ribcage at their proximity. Stupid crush.
“Restless,” she answered with a shake of her head. “You?”
“Came to check on you,” Natasha gave her a sleepy — and totally charming — smile and Wanda could feel butterflies swirling around in her stomach.
Did Natasha even know the effect she had on her?
“You didn’t have to,” she whispered even as the green-eyed monster in her chest purred as Natasha laid her head on her shoulder.
“I know,” Natasha’s voice was still laced with sleep as she settled in more heavily on Wanda’s shoulder, almost nuzzling into her neck. “But I wanted to. You’ve been off all day. What’s keeping you up?”
You. But she couldn’t say that; not right now, anyway. She had barely come to terms with the fact she loved her best friend herself and it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about just yet. Especially not when those feelings were mixed with so many bad ones — guilt, anger, jealousy — gnawing away at Wanda’s insides and leaving her with a jumbled mess of thoughts and unresolved emotions.
“Some stuff,” she answered vaguely, hoping sleep would be enough to cause Natasha not to push for further answers. “I came out here to look at the stars. They’re beautiful.”
“Like you,” Natasha nudged her lightly and Wanda was extremely grateful for the fact she wasn’t looking at her and that it was dark so she couldn’t see how affected Wanda was by her words.
“Shut up,” she mumbled, feeling more than hearing Natasha’s chuckle. “They remind me of Sokovia.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Wanda sighed, feeling a familiar ache in her heart mixed with everything else she was feeling. “My grandfather used to take us up to the mountains on weekends so we could watch the sunset and sleep under the stars. It was very peaceful.”
Natasha lifted her head from Wanda’s shoulder and turned to look at her, eyes softened around the edges and an even softer smile on her lips. God, Wanda wanted to kiss her so badly.
But she couldn’t.
“Can I stay and watch the stars with you?” Natasha smiled demurely at her, uncharacteristically shy.
Can you stay with me forever?
“Of course,” Wanda smiled at her, not-so-secretly pleased by the request, lying down on the pier.
Her smile grew wider as Natasha settled next to her, shoulders touching, and grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers together.
It felt nice — their proximity, Natasha’s floral shampoo mixing with the evening’s air and causing a sense of calm to wash over Wanda for the first time all week. She still had a mess of feelings to deal with, and she had no idea how to, but maybe tonight she didn’t have to think and worry about that.
Maybe tonight she could just selfishly lie there with the girl of her dreams and hope for the best.
And maybe, she thought as Natasha’s head lolled to the side when she fell asleep, hand still firmly grasping Wanda’s, maybe she would get to keep everything she wanted for at least one night.
Keep everything she loved safely under the stars.