Work Text:
1. Establish a Title
Vision’s body was designed to be an ideal specimen of a man on the exterior, with a mechanical interior that would, its initial creator hoped, one day rule the world. Once it was retrieved by Tony Stark, his brain became a complex overlay of two geniuses and an artificial intelligence system that operated at a level far beyond what humans could begin to comprehend. He was brought to life by the might of a god’s hammer. The mind stone allowed him to phase through solid objects and control his density, providing him nearly supernatural prowess in battle. His mind could directly interface with the internet, opening a world of knowledge to him, which enhanced his genius-level intellect. Thus far, Vision had only tapped into a fraction of his limitless potential; once he managed to harness everything within him, he would be sheer perfection.
One would think this would also make him the perfect romantic partner; however, one would be wrong.
Nine hours have passed since Wanda Maximoff placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Do you want me?” she had murmured, to which he replied, “Yes,” in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. And then they had kissed, turning Vision’s world inside out and upside down. They’d parted a quarter-hour later, his lips bruised in a way that should be physiologically impossible, but, well, there it was. Since then, he has remained in the armchair in his bedroom, staring at the wall that separates her from him. He knows she often takes a prescription sleeping pill to quell nightmares, which has the effect of leaving her in a nearly-impenetrable REM sleep stage for eight-to-nine hours. Through his advanced hearing, he has counted one hundred and twenty-seven deep breaths. He has no idea what will happen when she wakes. And he has no idea what he is meant to do when he sees her again.
Humans often rely upon advice for relationships, yes? Vision is loath to consult with any of the men currently residing in this compound. He trusts their intellect and, during combat, would trust them with his life; however, their interpersonal skills are often lacking, to put it kindly. So, he begins an online search. The first result is an article titled, “Romantic Advice That Will Help You Build a Successful Relationship from the First Date and Beyond!” The website appears to be credible, albeit in a breezy writing style that is more suited to Wanda’s personality than his. Then again, that might be an asset. So, he begins to read.
1. Establish a Title: You just got together with your new guy or gal, but you need to define who you are in relation to each other. Most people go with “girlfriend” and “boyfriend”. If that’s your style, great! If not, choose a term that feels comfortable and will set the parameters of your relationship going forward.
Vision frowns. The terms seem far too reductive for them. He is not a “boy”, and she is certainly not a “girl”. On the other hand, “womanfriend” and “manfriend” sound rather ridiculous, not to mention the inadequacy of “man” to describe his own identity. “Lover” has a rather illicit connotation for which he is not quite ready. “Partner” is preferable, but they are certainly not yet at that level of commitment. No, boy/girl seems to be the best option at present, even if it makes him grimace.
His auditory receptors pick up the sounds of more rapid breathing next door, along with the rustle of bed linens that signal awakening. If she hews to her typical patterns, Wanda will spend the next thirty-seven minutes on personal grooming tasks such as a shower, moisturizing, teeth brushing, cosmetics application, and wardrobe selection. Vision does not need to perform any of those tasks aside from the latter. He rises from the armchair and considers his own wardrobe for the day. What types of clothing would a boyfriend wear? Another quick online search suggests oversized cable-knit jumpers and loose-fitting blue jeans. Vision prides himself on his lack of vanity, but even he knows that those garments would be quite unflattering on himself. So, he phases into his usual outfit of trousers and sweater that would appear perfectly-tailored if they weren’t mere rearrangements of nanotechnology. Perhaps he should consider purchasing actual clothing, in case his girlfriend (oh, dear, that term still doesn’t sit well on his tongue) wishes to borrow them.
In seven minutes she will join him in the kitchen for breakfast, as is their habit. This morning will be quite different, though, and he has no idea what to expect. Vision finds that he enjoys the mystery.
*****
2. Make sure you’re attracted to the person, not the idea of a relationship
The first thought that enters Wanda’s mind when she wakes up is: “Oh, shit.”
For the record: it’s not an oh-shit at what happened last night, but an oh-shit about what the hell she’s supposed to do now.
Kissing Vision? Definitely a good thing. Great thing. Absolutely, blissfully wonderful thing. Who knew that a synthezoid could be that talented at kissing? Awkward at first, sure, but he learned quickly. They got the knocking-noses together thing figured out pretty fast. Then tongues, then hands on shoulders, and soon it was a full-on makeout session. He didn’t taste like metal; he just tasted like, well, a guy. She finally had to pull back after a while, or things would’ve progressed to a stage they were probably not ready for yet.
Wanda’s 100% sure that kissing him was the right thing to do. She’s just not sure what’s going to happen next. They’ve been dancing around this for a while now. Lots of lingering glances and evenings spent inching closer and closer to each other as they sat on the bed watching TV. She knows he wants her. She definitely wants him. But a relationship? Totally different matter. No point in obsessing over it now, though. Time to get out of bed, take care of business, and face the day with her new… boyfriend? Hmm.
She takes a longer shower than usual, and maybe her fingers spend a little extra time washing certain spots as she remembers that kiss. Same thing when she applies lotion so that her skin will be soft, just in case. Clothes and makeup are trickier. Vision’s already seen her at her worst. Hell, last month he wiped goo off her face after the mission all the Avengers have agreed to never mention again. No need to dress up for him, except she kind of wants to. Maybe inspire a few more kisses. On the other hand, she doesn’t want to look desperate or anything. Such a dilemma. Wanda finally settles on some yoga pants that show off her ass and a blue shirt with a cowl neck that offers just a hint of cleavage. Yeah, that’ll do nicely. Enough makeup to look natural-but-better, and then she’s ready.
Here we go. First day of the rest of your life.
Wait.
Rest of her life? Where the hell did that come from? It was one kiss, not moving in together. Not that she would be averse to that. Shit. She leans against the door, practicing those breathing techniques Sam taught them in his weekly yoga class. All she and Vision have done is kissed. He seemed to enjoy it a lot, but that doesn’t mean they’re girlfriend and boyfriend now. Or maybe they are. He’s a rational kind of guy. Level-headed. But it’s not like he’s ever had a sweetheart before. (Is she a sweetheart? Yikes. Better make a list of acceptable pet names if it comes to that.) The good news is that he’ll probably follow her lead. If she goes out there and pretends last night never happened, he’d accept that. But… well… a relationship does sound kind of nice. Been a long time since Wanda’s been in one, and those weren’t exactly emotionally or physically fulfilling. Sokovian men love American “bro culture”. Yuck. Vision is certainly not a “bro”. He’s kind and thoughtful and very, very respectful. Wait, did that mean he would be too respectful in bed? No. Stop it. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Maximoff.
Okay. Relationship. They’ve already got that, at least the platonic kind, and now with kissing added to the mix. Friends-with-benefits? That could work, except she kind of wants the pet-names kind. She’s been an Avenger for eight months now, and it’s really fucking lonely. Not much to do except go out on missions, spend hours in training sessions, and watch a hell of a lot of TV. Having Vision as a friend has helped with a lot of the loneliness. Maybe having him as a boyfriend would make things a hell of a lot more tolerable. Maybe even fun.
First day of the rest of your life, Wanda.
As she opens the door and walks toward the kitchen, she still can’t stop thinking about the R-word. Does she actually want Vision, or is she just desperate to hook up with someone and be a couple again? If that’s the case, then Sam’s available. Hell, she could probably snag Steve. The thought of going out on dates with Captain America makes her start laughing so hard that her whole body shakes. She’s still giggling when she reaches the kitchen… and there he is.
Vision.
Her boyfriend.
He looks up from the skillet on the stove and smiles at her. There’s a faint golden glow around his head. So that’s what he looks like when he blushes. It’s fucking adorable. He’s got on a tight sweater that shows off his shoulders and abs and all the muscles she may or may not have been thinking about when her fingers did the walking in the shower. He’s red and gold and silver and hot.
She gives him a grin. “Hey there.”
He nods. “Good morning.”
Boyfriend. Sure, why not?
*****
3. Communicate your feelings and expectations clearly
By Vision’s estimation, breakfast has proven to be a somewhat measured success, with these qualifications: A. Wanda's physical demeanor is slightly awkward, though not to the point of apparent discomfort. B. His own demeanor is also slightly awkward. C. He has not yet raised the issue of the terms with which they should refer to each other. No, perhaps it is not a success at all. Still, he remains optimistic.
As she finishes consuming her eggs, bacon, and croissant, Vision busies himself with the dishes in order to mentally rehearse his speech. Once he is sufficiently prepared, he places his palms on the counter and begins with a nod.
“Wanda, I greatly enjoyed last night’s intercourse –”
She sputters.
He blinks.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Blushing bright red, she uses a napkin to wipe away the drops of orange juice that her mouth had emitted. “Um, ‘intercourse’ means sex.”
“Oh, right. I apologize. I meant its primary denotation of a communicative act between two individuals.” The conversation has not even properly begun, yet he has already failed. Of course he should have known the alternate meaning. Such an error is, frankly, embarrassing. Wanda appears to be amused but not angry, which he takes as a sign to continue. “As I meant to say, I enjoyed our kiss and would be quite interested in moving forward with a relationship, if you are at all amenable.”
She stands and slowly walks – or perhaps the right term is saunters – around the kitchen island. “I’d say that I made myself pretty clear last night.”
“Yes.” He watches her take another step closer. “You certainly did.”
Wanda is now exactly 10.27 centimeters away from him. Her pulse has increased to 130 beats per minute. Her pupils are slightly dilated. Vision swallows. Is this where they are meant to kiss again? Whilst he would certainly welcome more intercourse, the advice website did say that one should communicate one’s expectations clearly before formalizing the arrangement. He takes a breath and shifts four centimeters away, which elicits a frown from the woman in front of him. Perhaps he should have kissed her instead. No, best stick to his original plan.
“While it is clear that we are on the same page when it comes to potential romance, I feel that it is important to state our expectations therein, in order to avoid any possible misunderstandings.”
“Expectations?”
“Yes.” He quickly executes a coding sequence that will prevent him from staring at the cleavage exposed by the neckline of her shirt. “For example, should I now refer to you as my girlfriend? And would I call myself your boyfriend?”
Wanda’s chest rises and falls with a hint of laughter. That new bit of code needs to be debugged. “Boyfriend and girlfriend? I guess so, but I doubt anyone’s going to be asking us anytime soon.” Then she frowns, just slightly. “Wait, do you want to tell everyone else?”
That question bypasses several other discussion topics on his mental list, but he knows he’s supposed to answer. “I’m quite happy to tell all of our colleagues, but perhaps we should wait a bit longer before doing so.”
“Yeah, it’s only been, what, ten hours?”
Ten hours and sixteen minutes. He’s impressed by her estimate. “Right. So, we have already established that we are indeed girlfriend and boyfriend,” (good heavens, the terms still sound ridiculous in his voice) “and that we would like to eventually announce our new status to others.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She smiles again, but he can sense her impatience. Their colleagues will likely be up and about soon, so he should press forward. However, the next item from the website’s list of discussion topics involves the other type of intercourse, and it feels far too early to broach that subject. So he skips ahead. “Would you prefer to be the one to initiate any physical contact, or –”
Wanda cuts him off with a hand on his chest; their first touch since last night makes him shiver the slightest bit. “Vision,” she says with narrowed eyes and a hint of a smile. “You’re overthinking this. Let’s just take it slow and see what happens.”
Seven centimeters now separate them. He stares at her lips. When his gaze falls lower, a warning beeps in his head. He quickly deletes the code. Ah, much better. She has given him tacit approval to look, and he takes advantage. The curves of her bust rise and fall with each of her breaths. One of his hands comes up to her neck, and the other rests on her upper arm, so close to that bit of skin at which he cannot stop staring. Perhaps he is meant to be the one to establish the next level of physical contact. Vision leans in, closing the distance until they are chest-to-chest. She parts her lips. He does the same.
And then the sound of footsteps ricochets around the room.
On instinct, he phases over to the other side of the kitchen island. When he turns around, Wanda does not appear pleased.
Steve Rogers walks in, with all the bravado befitting his appellation. “Good morning! What’s for breakfast?”
Wanda crosses her arms. Vision somehow maintains his composure as he asks whether his colleague would prefer bacon or eggs.
Well, then. Initiation of physical contact will have to wait.
*****
4. Spend some time apart
Life doesn’t stop just because Wanda’s got a new boyfriend. They only manage one quick kiss before she has to head down to the gym, but it’s enough to fuel her for a few hours. First thing on her schedule is stretching, which sounds a lot more fun than it turns out to be. Daymond, the new trainer, pushes and pulls on all her muscles, including some she didn’t know she had. Hurts like hell, but at least it loosens her up for the workout.
For the next hour, they do a circuit on the weight machines, as Daymond assures her that no, she’s not a wimp just because she can’t press as much as she’s supposed to. Then cardio, and then the magic happens. Literally. Steve wants her to practice some new maneuver where she uses her powers to catapult him high up in the air, like he’s the one flying. Very cool in theory, but a huge pain in the ass to learn. She and Daymond spend nearly two hours out on the lawn working on it. He’s a good sport, but he’s definitely going to have bruises. The whole thing would be so much easier with Vision. Maybe this could be their version of a date night. New couple goals, huh?
Only four hours apart, and Wanda misses him like crazy. She wants him here with her right now, instead of whatever research he’s helping with today down in the lab. Not even just for the potential kissing, but for how they work together. She has learned so much from him: how to manage her emotions during a mission, how to position her hands while pushing off to fly, and even just how to find a way to smile at the end of the day. Daymond’s great with the physical fitness stuff. Clint is a master at honing her accuracy. Natasha’s all about quick reflexes and stealth. And of course Steve teaches her how to handle all the complex tasks needed in order to complete a mission. She has the best crew possible. They’re turning her into a goddamn superhero. But Vision is different. He helps her to become a better person.
As she soaks in the hot tub after training, she can’t stop thinking about him. It’s crazy. Embarrassing. Like she’s fourteen again and staring at Vinek across the orphanage courtyard, fingers crossed that he might notice her. This isn’t a crush, though. It’s a hell of a lot more than that. She knows that much. Vision is the kind of guy you build an honest-to-god relationship with. The kind of guy you marry.
Shit. Way too soon for that. Right?
She shifts on the bench and watches the bubbles make the surface ripple. Marriage is forever. The rest of your life. They’ve only been an official couple for a few hours. Wanda’s not even sure she loves him. Except that’s not true. She knows she’s loved him for a long time. Probably since he first reached out to her and she let him in. Doesn’t mean it’s that kind of love, but it’s something.
Screw it. Plenty of time to figure that out later. Right now, she’s gotta deal with the fact that her fingers look like raisins, and her stomach is rumbling. So she climbs out of the tub, peels off her swimsuit, and gets dressed. And okay, she might tug down the cowl neck of her shirt and give her breasts a bit of a lift, but that’s just because she looks good today and wants the world to see it.
Nothing more than that. Vision’s too busy for kissing, anyway.
And sure, she might take a circuitous route to the commissary because the stairs are healthier than the elevator, not because that path takes her past the hallway with the lab where Vision’s doing whatever the hell he’s doing today. The only reason she stands there at the observation window, searching for him, is because science is very important. Her heart doesn’t beat faster when he glances up and smiles. It’s not like she’s in love with him or anything. Nope.
*****
5. Try new things for them
One of the many advantages to having a synthetic brain is the ability to direct one’s focus toward pertinent tasks while deactivating any functions that might prove to be a distraction. Vision has relied upon this ability quite often during research sessions so that he can operate at his optimum efficiency; however, today its main use is to sequester all thoughts of Wanda into a nested folder at the back of his brain. For the benefit of science, of course. He calculates and evaluates and synthesizes with the greatest of ease, unburdened by thoughts of kisses or how she’d looked in that shirt. She is out of sight, out of mind… until she is not. More specifically, until she is standing on the other side of the observation window, grinning at him. In that shirt.
Oh, dear.
Several of the lab technicians have already left on their lunch break. He assumes this is also why Wanda has appeared here. Perhaps the smile is her indication that she wishes for him to join her.
Eight minutes later, Vision chooses a table then watches Wanda make her way through the buffet line. He has never been down to the commissary before. No need, really, given that this part of the facility is expressly for the purpose of eating. Something about it makes him feel vaguely uncomfortable. Everyone else in the lunchroom has either met him or knows of him, so his presence only draws brief curious glances. Unlike the living quarters’ kitchen where he prepares breakfast and snacks for Wanda, this room is designed and intended for humans, specially the Stark Industries employees who research, file paperwork, or perform maintenance tasks. Ordinary people (though, of course: kind, intelligent, hard-working people, with names and lives of their own outside of this facility.) Vision is in his element upstairs. Here, he sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb. Still, if he plans to embark upon a romantic relationship with Wanda, he’d best become comfortable with locales like these. She might want to go shopping in town, or a movie theater, or – good heavens – a beach.
As if on cue, Wanda takes her seat opposite him. A side-by-side seating arrangement would be preferable, but this maintains their platonic facade. She stares down at the salad on her plate. “Last thing I want to eat is another salad, but I have a fitting for that new costume next week.”
Vision raises an eyebrow. “Why would you need to diet? Your figure is perfect as is.”
She looks up at him, a blush spreading across her cheeks. He can sense another demurral on her lips, the way women are apparently meant to act when receiving compliments. So he gives her a sincere smile and nod, to emphasize his words. Wanda bites her lip then says, “Okay, fine. That tuna melt looked delicious.” When she walks back over to the buffet line, he notices a swing in her hips, as if showing off for him. He will have to demonstrate his appreciation later, when they’re in a more private setting.
Being like this with Wanda is nothing new. They have chatted across the kitchen island and conference tables, like the one they will be at later this afternoon. He has sat with her on the end of her bed, watching television or in companionable silence. They always find things to discuss, be they trivial matters like training moves or story plotlines, or heady topics such as loss or fate or the meaning of life itself. Today is quite different, though. She is more silent than usual, thanks to the sandwich she is eating, but something else hangs in the air: the weight of what happened last night and what might happen next. Vision watches the way she eats, how her lips are parted with a smacking sound that annoys him the slightest bit. A speck of mayonnaise dots the corner of her mouth. The same lips that had brushed over his cheek and down his neck, gently at first then devouring him. His body begins to vibrate the same way it had last night, a spark of energy traversing his circuits and nerves, through his stomach and down below. He imagines her mouth on his chest, the lines of his abdominal muscles, the seams of vibranium crossing his hips and legs and ….
Vision clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. “Right. My apologies, but I believe I am needed up in the laboratory.”
Wanda swallows, a slight frown on her brow. “Oh! Okay. See you at the meeting, then?”
He nods. “I’ll be counting down the minutes.”
“I’m sure you will.” It’s the kind of thing she might have said two months ago, an innocent jibe at his logical mind. But the way she says it now is different. Everything is different.
When he stands, she presses her fingers to her lips as if to blow him a kiss. Although nobody else in this cafeteria has paid them the slightest attention, he takes the risk of brushing his fingers across her shoulder as he walks away. The vibration in his chest grows.
*****
6. Don’t try to show off constantly
Wanda’s got this. Sitting next to her boyfriend of one day at a conference table full of her colleagues? No problem at all. She is determined to be focused and professional – which, okay, are words not often used to describe her, but whatever. Hard to maintain that focus and professionalism, though, in meetings as boring as this one.
As an Avenger, her style during planning sessions has always been to sit back, keep her mouth shut, and resist the urge to check her phone since Steve hates that. She pays enough attention to find out what she’s expected to do during the mission, but that’s about it. As long as she shows up and does what she’s told, she’s fine. Fortunately, her job during these operations is usually simple, with nothing outside of her range of abilities. (Wanda suspects that Steve and Natasha do that on purpose because they still don’t 100% trust her. Not that she really blames them. That “former terrorist” label is gonna be pinned on her shoulder for the rest of her life.)
This meeting is pretty much same old, same old. Another black market weapons shipment heading toward the Panama Canal. There’s a part of Wanda that doesn’t get why it’s a big deal. Tons of weapons swaps all over the world, probably right this very minute. It’s how HYDRA got most of its firepower. Then again, she knows why HYDRA wanted all those bombs and guns, and … okay, fine, it’s a big deal. Very important. But all she wants to do right now is grope Vision under the table.
He looks amazing right now. No surprise. Sure, he’s got on the same a-bit-too-snug sweater and slacks as this morning, but they look different. (Does he phase on underwear? What does it look like? She hopes they’re a-bit-too-snug boxer briefs.) It helps that he has excellent posture. Most of the time he’ll sit up straight, but then sometimes he’ll cross his legs and lean back in the fancy conference chair, and just… damn. She is being ridiculous. If she can’t make it through one of these meetings without getting all hot and bothered, she might as well take her ball and go home.
Yes. Be focused and professional.
The problem is that she still doesn’t completely understand the mission. Something about surveillance and infiltration and whatever. Vision probably understands every single part of it. He’s likely got a whole organizational schematic in that brain of his, whereas she can’t stop staring at the way he’s holding a ballpoint pen. Her boyfriend is the smartest guy on earth. What the hell does he see in her? Might as well start proving her worth.
So she sits up straight and reaches for another pen, holding it up like she’s making a point. Only problem is that it also makes her seem like she actually has something to say. Steve stops clicking through the PowerPoint and raises an eyebrow. “Yes, Wanda?” He actually looks pleased.
All right, then. “I’ll be stationed at the entrance to the Mere Floor locks. Will that provide me with an adequate vantage point, or should we also establish additional surveillance along the battery?”
Natasha gives her a look. “It’s actually the Miraflores locks. As we mentioned earlier, Sam will use Redwing to provide aerial surveillance, so I think we’re covered.”
Wanda hates Natasha. Okay, maybe that’s too strong of a word. She’s been a good friend, most of the time. Lots of helpful advice, particularly with things that the Avengers sausage fest can’t understand. And, to be fair, she wasn’t wrong. Wanda did screw up the name, and she missed some pretty obvious mission prep info because she was too busy daydreaming about Vision. Still, she knows she must be blushing bright red right now. It takes every ounce of self-respect not to slink back into the chair or just walk out of the room altogether.
Captain America comes to her rescue. “That was a good idea, though, Wanda. Why don’t I pull up the map so that we can double-check all the sight lines?”
Everyone turns back toward his end of the conference table, and away from her. Whew. Except Vision swivels his chair slightly toward her and gives her a glance that she almost misses. Then she looks down and sees him holding out a hand toward her. She reaches for it, and he gives her hand a quick squeeze. His thumb brushes over her knuckles. Wanda shivers.
Three very important lessons learned in the past few minutes: 1) Keep your mouth shut unless you know what you’re talking about, especially when everyone else is far smarter and better at this than you are. 2) Don’t try to impress Vision. 3) He is going to be an amazing boyfriend.
*****
7. Talk about the future early on
The work day now complete, Vision enumerates his professional successes. 1) Ms. Rabun in the lab was able to sequence another section of his DNA, with his assistance. They should soon be able to pinpoint the part of his genome that regulates his ability to change direction during flight. 2) This afternoon, he and Mx. Hadid debugged the set of code that will allow him to aim the mind stone’s energy blasts with greater accuracy. 3) During the mission planning conference, he was able to guide the others into increasing Wanda’s participatory role without calling attention to the manipulation. He’s rather proud of that last one. Even setting aside their incipient relationship, he has striven to promote more respect for her amongst their colleagues. They seem to be unaware of their lack of confidence in Wanda, bordering on condescension. Vision can understand the root of this dynamic, given that the other Avengers are very much “Type A” personalities, in pop-psychological parlance, whereas Wanda is more passive by nature. In addition, he has to admit that he understands why they might hold her past against her, even if it is categorically unfair. Still, he attempts to foster more of a positive, proactive role for her in whichever ways he can.
He has not seen Wanda since the meeting ended. She retreated to her room for a video conference with the woman who is redesigning her Avengers outfit, while he returned to the laboratory to assist with the end-of-day checklist. She will be hungry soon, and although they have not made plans for the night, he hopes that she will be amenable to spending it with him. Her words and body language throughout the day have indicated as much.
This will be their first evening together as a couple, and Vision wants to make it special for her. He’s not entirely certain what that might entail. All the advice websites suggest a “date night out on the town”, which isn’t exactly an option for them, given that they have not yet made their relationship public (plus, well, he would attract too much attention.) Perhaps he could arrange for something nice here at the compound. Ms. Romanoff left for the city after the meeting, and most of the men will likely be engrossed in the weekly poker game that Vision has never had any interest in attending. A picnic might be nice. Granted, it is still winter, but the nights have been unseasonably mild and dry. He scours his memory banks for clues as to what cuisine Wanda might enjoy, then he locates an idle comment from months ago in which she expressed an interest in Indian food. There is only one such restaurant in the nearby town; however, their website indicates a willingness to deliver for a nominal fee. Vision has no idea of her tolerance for spices, so he orders a selection of dishes with different numbers of peppers next to the listing. He then procures a bottle of white wine from Mr. Wilson’s stash, placing an online order for six identical bottles to replace it. Picnics require red gingham blankets, yes? He doubts such an item could be located anywhere in the compound, so he chooses a plain bedsheet from the linen closet. All that is left is to find Wanda.
When he knocks on her door – more polite than phasing – she glances up with a smile. “Hey, there. You’re in luck. I just finished the call with the designer.”
“Oh? Did it go well?”
Wanda rolls her eyes as he approaches where she’s perched on the end of her bed. “Francesca keeps trying to put me in these low-cut corsets, as if part of being a superhero is showing off my tits.”
Before he can stop himself, his gaze drops to her cleavage, still on display. She just laughs. “It’s okay, Vis. You have my permission to look all you want.”
“Noted.” He commands his processors to quell the blush he can feel spreading over his cheeks. This part of their relationship will require some time for him to become acclimated to it, not that he minds. “Would you care to accompany me out to the lawn for an evening picnic?”
Wanda crosses her arms over her chest. (Vision notices how her arms frame her breasts.) “Isn’t it too cold?”
“The forecast indicates a rather balmy evening, though if the temperature is too low for your comfort, we could move back inside.”
She tilts her head as if considering it, then says, “Sure, sounds great. Let me grab my coat.”
Several minutes later, they arrive at the public entrance just in time for the food’s arrival. He’s uncertain of the appropriate amount for a gratuity, but the delivery driver seems quite pleased by the cash she is given. As the woman retreats to her car, Wanda elbows him. “That was way too much.”
“Only the best for you, darling.”
Damn. With one impulsive word, he has already skipped over several stages of the suitable dating timeline provided in his research. Wanda just smiles, though. “Darling, huh?”
He shrugs. “It seemed rather fitting.”
“I like it.”
Well, then. Juggling bags of food and the sheet clenched under his arm, he leads her out to a small patch of lawn that is hidden from the living quarters’ windows, should their colleagues peer out. Wanda helps him spread the sheet on the winter-brown grass, and as they settle in, she visibly shivers. “Too cold for you?”
“A bit. I have an idea, though.” Her eyes glow, and her red-tinged hands trace an arc above them. A shimmering orb encloses them. His internal temperature register measures the air at seventy-one degrees Fahrenheit. Wanda grins. He loves her in ways that his mind cannot begin to comprehend.
Their date night begins.
He has foolishly forgotten a wine glass, but she is more than happy to drink it straight from the bottle. She favors the chicken korma over the goat curry, though she insists that she is “Sokovian enough” to appreciate strong spices. Several different dosas are sampled in turn, with her preferring the rava masala variety. Although he does not eat, of course, she holds each dish to his nose for him to smell. Once it is time for dessert, she licks the gulab jamun’s syrup from her fingers in a way that flips a switch low in his abdomen. When she raises her hand to his nose, he can detect the hint of rose in the syrup. He really should have brought her flowers tonight. He’ll have to do that next time… and the tenor of her laughter indicates there will be many more date nights to come.
On that note, Vision embarks upon the conversation that he has been scripting in the recesses of his mind all day.
“Before we move forward, I believe it would be prudent for us to discuss what future we might have together.”
Wanda stares at him, one syrupy finger still in her mouth. She withdraws it. “What do you mean? Marriage and babies and all that?”
Vision freezes. Oh, dear. He has already jumped the proverbial gun. “Not at all. A bit too soon for that, I reckon.”
She exhales. “Vďaka Bohu. You scared me there for a second.”
This is not at all going the way he’d planned. His mind runs a quick set of calculations as to which potential response has the greatest likelihood of a positive reaction. Finally, he settles on, “My intention was merely to ask how you would like this relationship to progress in the near future.”
“Oh, okay.” She wipes off her fingers with a serviette then takes another sip of wine. “I don’t really know. I barely even know what my life’s going to be like a week from now.” Then she looks down, a slightly bashful expression on her face. “I do know that I want you to be in my life, as my boyfriend or my darling or whatever you want to call it.”
Yes. Much better. Although it is indeed too soon for such thoughts, he closes his eyes and sees their lives spread out before them like a flow chart. Date nights. Kisses and then more. Nights spent in her bed. Waking up beside her. Telling their colleagues that they are in love. Going shopping together, and to the movies and perhaps even the beach. A life spent in unison. Such a progression circumvents all the advice from this morning’s research, but he thinks it just might suit the two of them. They have never been normal, after all.
He moves over to sit beside her in this bubble of warmth that she has conjured. She leans into him and takes his hand. “Maybe it’s too soon for me to say this, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”
Twenty-two hours have elapsed since their first kiss. This second one is so, so much better. He tastes the spices on her tongue, feels the way she gasps as his lips trace a line along the curve of her neck. They kiss and kiss as the sky shimmers above them. When she pulls back to breathe, he can almost smell roses. And yes, it is too soon for such thoughts, but he can see forever in her eyes.
She raises her hands to frame his face, her fingers cold against his vibranium, and he murmurs, “I love you, too.”
They kiss until their lips are swollen, even though his circulatory system should not allow for such things. She causes all manner of new reactions in his body. It is one of the many things he loves about Wanda Maximoff. Her hands roam above and below, and he suspects he might be on fire.
They finally part, breathing heavily, and she suddenly begins to laugh. It is a sound he has seldom heard from her before. He wants to hear it again and again for as long as she’ll have him.
“So,” she says in a scratchy voice, her accent peeking out from where it has hidden all these months. “How about we plan on date nights once a week, and then we’ll see what happens?”
“That sounds like an excellent plan.”
Wanda picks up the bottle of wine as if to take another sip, but instead she sets it aside. “What did you have in mind for after this little picnic?”
He cocks his chin. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned that far. But perhaps we could go up to your room and watch television?”
There’s a new spark in her eyes. “Oh, you mean Netflix and chill?”
She pauses long enough for him to do a quick internet search, and when his eyes open wide, she throws back her head and laughs. “Don’t worry, loverboy. Sex can wait until we’re good and ready. But I wouldn’t mind some cuddling.”
“That could be arranged.” Then again, he is not… averse to that particular type of intercourse, but her suggestion to wait until they are both good and ready is a wise one. A smart lady, his Wanda.
They gather the detritus of their picnic, folding the sheet and tying off the plastic bags for disposal. With a snap of her fingers, she dissolves their bubble. The air sparks around them. As they walk inside and up to her room, he feels the faint tingle of her entering his thoughts.
It’s the first day of the rest of our lives.
She fills every part of him. He would not have it any other way.
*****
End (1/1)