Chapter Text
Wanda squeaked in surprise at the sound of a hand slamming down on the counter behind her. She hadn’t heard any footsteps as she straightened the various floral displays on the shelves that adorned the back wall, and Pietro was currently doing inventory in the back, so she had believed she was alone in their shop’s showroom. Steve had left the two of them in charge today to prepare for some “big night,” and Peter had the day off. The brunette barely had time to turn around before a rushed, raspy voice rang out.
“How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower??” Wanda hadn’t even processed the question before she was being struck speechless by frantic, emerald eyes. Oh no, she’s hot-
The woman was a bit shorter than her (maybe by an inch or two), and had striking red hair cut to shoulder-length. She looked older than the brunette by a few years, but Wanda didn’t mind that all too much. She wore a red leather jacket that hugged the curve of her waist in a way that made Wanda’s head spin. She was wearing a black tank top underneath that displayed what seemed to be Russian writing along the curve of her prominent collarbone. The way that her fiery hair fell partially concealed her neck, but Wanda could make out the barest hint of spiderwebs crawling up along the left side of her throat. Various other little patch tattoos littered the small amount of skin that the brunette could currently see.
Wanda had never considered herself a fan of tattoos. She didn’t understand the point of permanently marking one’s body and running the risk of regretting it later. And the pain? Absolutely not. Honestly, she did not understand Pietro’s interest at all (the blonde had a half-sleeve in dedication to their fallen home country, and planned on getting more). Wanda had never even found them very attractive on a person. However, when the redhead shrugged off her jacket in the humidity of the shop to reveal sleeves of dark ink over defined muscles, her mouth ran dry. Okay… Maybe exceptions can be made.
Trailing her eyes down the art adorning the woman’s outstretched arm, she realized the source of the startling noise was the crumpled twenty-dollar bill pressed between trimmed, black nails and the hardwood of the counter. It was almost comical how the woman hunched herself over the register, seeming to hold her breath in anticipation for the answer to her question. Her question! Oh Goddess, what did she even ask me??
“... Excuse me?” Wanda stared dumbly, accent jumping out along with her nerves. She hoped she didn’t look as lost as she felt. The shorter woman let out a barely audible chuckle.
“Sorry, that was rude of me.” She straightened herself, running a hand through her hair with a smirk and gaining an air of confidence. “How would one potentially get back at their coworker- who sent her here on a mission to buy a bouquet for his date- because the last time that said someone had her own date, he told the girl in question that I had already gotten her name tattooed…” The redhead broke her confident character at the last few lines, pinching her nose in annoyance. After inwardly cheering at the knowledge that this stranger was in fact interested in the same sex, Wanda couldn’t help the little giggle she let out at the thought of someone daring to play such a prank on this woman (who was, admittedly, quite intimidating).
“Well, in all honesty, I would run away too if someone got a love tattoo for me before we had even gone one one date.” Wanda raised an eyebrow at the woman. She wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from.
“It wasn’t true!” The woman let out, exasperated, before calming herself. “That’s not the point, anyway. My friend’s date is apparently into all this hordi-whats-it or whatever-” She continued in a steady voice.
“Horticulture.” Wanda butted in, but was quickly dismissed.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” The woman said with a smirk, obviously teasing. Wanda felt her cheeks heat slightly at the look of her perfect eyebrow raising in challenge. “Bucky’s date is into that kinda stuff, so he’ll know all the flower’s meanings, and he happened to make the mistake of sending me to go get them. Something about the dude picking him up as soon as his shift ends and not having time. So, what do you say-” Bright emerald flickered down to her nametag. “-Wanda? Wanna help me out?” The woman grinned wolfishly, clearly proud of herself for coming up with this revenge prank. Wanda couldn’t help but find it a bit endearing, though she did feel a bit bad for this “Bucky” character. She supposed that he had thrown the first stone, though. The brunette paused, tapping her chin for a minute in feux-thought before laughing brightly and agreeing.
“First, I would start with some butterfly weed.” She stepped out from behind the counter to search the assortments of flowers littered across the shops before finding exactly the plant. She picked it up and handed it to the woman, smiling a bit as their hands brushed. Ironic, given the meaning of the flower. “It essentially says ‘I want you nowhere near me’.”
“Amazing. What else?” The tattooed woman twirled the stems in her hands with a wide smile. Wanda nodded her head towards a display of tansies, leading the redhead over.
“Tansies. Basically declaring war on an enemy.” She said with an amused huff. “The color will also compliment the orange really well.” The woman only smirked back at her.
“What? Trying to make it look all pretty for me, дорогой?” The redhead stepped a bit closer. When Wanda’s breathing stuttered, the woman simply let out a low laugh and plucked the yellow buds from her hand, stepping back as if nothing had happened. Wanda could sense her face turning a bit pink as the other woman looked at her expectantly for the next selection.
“Right-” She cleared her throat. “Cyclamens symbolize a wish for separation. Your friend’s flower expert will be sure to know this.” She avoided the piercing gaze, holding the pink blooms out for the other woman to take. When she received a hum of approval, Wanda moved on to the final choice. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but smile at the way the woman was following her a bit like a lost puppy. It was clear that she had never actually been flower-shopping (outside of maybe grabbing a random bouquet at Walmart and calling it a day) before. With her leather jacket, tattoos, and all around intimidating demeanor, this woman seemed adorably out of her element within the walls of an ever-modest flower shop.
“These are probably going to be your statement piece.” Wanda reached out for a handful of stems. “Orange lilies. They quite literally are a symbol of hatred.” The brunette added the flowers to the growing bundle clutched in inked-over knuckles.
“Perfect.” The redhead grinned almost childishly in her excitement for her upcoming prank-war victory. “And you’re sure twenty dollars will cover this? I do appreciate you humoring me.” She asked with a wink as they walked to the counter, and Wanda’s heart swelled just a little bit at the consideration. Most of her customers were more likely to cheap out on her than offer her more money.
“Trust me. Twenty is fine. Though, I would take your name. As tip?” She risked the question. She’d likely never see this woman again, but the tiniest little part of Wanda’s heart could dare to dream.
“Well, you could just read the neon across the way.” The woman chuckled, nodding out the window.
Even before Wanda had applied for a position at Roger’s Floral Gifts, the tattoo parlor had always been a stand-out building on the block. It was painted in a deep black that stood out against the boring tans and whites of the other shops and was covered in bright red neon. The most prominent sign spelled out Romanoff’s Ink in a bold script with an hourglass logo above the door.
“Romanoff? You run the tattoo place?” Wanda asked as a nervous excitement pooled in her stomach. This beautiful woman worked right across the street.
“The one and only.” The woman- Romanoff- winked at her with a satisfied grin and held her hand out in greeting. The brunette caught a glimpse of a bullet casing inked onto the shorter woman’s wrist, just below her thumb.
“Good to know…” Wanda felt the redness that had already been heating her cheeks begin to creep down her neck as well. The woman’s gaze sent her stomach into a flurry as she reached out to shake the offered hand. Sweet Gods, since when was I attracted to a firm grip? She quickly turned around, wrapping the bundle of flowers with a ribbon and making it look nice before turning and handing them back to the redhead.
“Well, thank you for your help.” The tattooed woman laughed a bit at the brunette’s loss for words. “This is gonna be great. I owe you one, красивая.” Wanda smiled back sheepishly and nodded. She did not understand the (pet??) names that the redhead was calling her, but the sound of the Russian words rolling off her tongue sent a shiver down the brunette’s spine. She tried to come up with something to say, not wanting this woman to leave. She didn’t really have much more to add to the conversation, however. Wanda practically raged at herself internally as she watched Romanoff’s form retreat back towards the tattoo parlor without another word. Great job, Wanda. There goes your only chance with the single most attractive person in a hundred mile radius.
The rest of the day went by incredibly slowly. Normally, Wanda enjoyed helping her customers greatly. She loved to see the various bouquets for different occasions that each new person would buy. More often than not, each customer would share their reasons for buying such a gift. Wanda always listened attentively, as she found the tales adorable whether they were about ‘puppy-love’ or ‘ten-years-going-strong’.
Today, however, she found her focus constantly drifting towards the bright red lettering across the street. Luckily for her, the front of Romanoff’s Ink featured a large and untinted window that allowed the brunette to clearly see the parlor’s front desk as well as one of the tattoo stations. Currently, a man with a singular sleeve that covered the entire expanse of his left arm (Wanda couldn’t make out much except for the prominent red star on his shoulder) was sitting at the register. Another man was wiping down the windows. Curiously, he looked very familiar with his arrow tattoos and hearing aids. She’s fairly certain the man had stopped in a few times to visit her brother. Romanoff herself seemed to be hunched over a client at the visible table. Wanda could see the clear concentration on her face even from a distance as the redhead’s steady hands moved across the skin of the person’s upper back. The way her teeth worried the skin of her bottom lip made Wanda feel dizzy.
“Počúvaš ma, sestra?” The use of her mother tongue snapped her out of whatever daze she had been in, and she turned to face the only person who ever conversed with her in such a way.
“Really? That’s what did it? I have been trying to get your attention for the last two minutes.” Pietro raised an eyebrow at her, looking over her shoulder in an attempt to figure out what she had been so distracted by.
“What do you need, Piet?” Wanda only rolled her eyes, willing the tint away from her cheeks.
“Well, I was trying to tell you that it is time to start cleaning up.” Her twin gestured to the clock above the door. It read 8 o’clock. The same time they closed every day. “But now I must know what has my ever-focused sestrička so distracted.”
“You are literally only twelve minutes older than me!” Wanda threw over her shoulder, walking over to turn the window sign to display ‘ Sorry, we’re closed!’ before turning back to her brother.
“Ah, so you admit that I am older.” He snickered at her as she threw a towel towards his face. It was his turn to wipe the down counter tonight while she attempted to distance herself from the conversation. “Ah-ah, Wanda. This has not changed the subject. I can see that blush.” He teased as he began to clean, accent thick. Wanda had taken measures to improve her American speech. Pietro, not so much.
“It is nothing, Piet. Just humid in here.” She made the mistake of glancing across the street again. Pietro followed her gaze with a puzzled look.
“Thinking about getting some ink? I thought you did not approve of my little habit.” He teased, holding up his arm- the wings of the Sokovian national bird slightly peeking out under his half-rolled sleeves. “Clint across the street does a very good job, sestra.” He laughed as she cringed.
“Absolutely not.” Wanda huffed, beginning to straighten out the displays next to the register while Pietro started to split the tips. The brunette wondered if the tattooed woman would ever stop by again. Probably not. She only came in this time because she wanted to prank her coworker with a hate-bouquet. Wanda doubted that this was a common occurrence in the redhead’s life. Soon enough, she found herself being pulled from her musings by the sound of her brother's voice once again.
“Kretén!” Came the muttered curse, and Wanda looked up in question. “Who the hell leaves their own business card instead of a tip??” The blonde questioned incredulously, and Wanda’s eyes widened at the red hourglass logo printed across the paper. Without thinking, she snatched the card from her twin’s hands and allowed an almost childish squeal to escape her lips.
Romanoff’s Ink
1984 North Ave
Walk-Ins Welcome!
Natasha Romanoff - Owner and Artist
Natasha. She finally had a first name to go along with those challenging green eyes. Wanda scanned the little black and red card over and over, her smile growing with each additional read-through. That was, until Pietro’s questioning hum caused her to quickly pull the card behind her back and clear her throat, forcing a neutral face.
“Wanda, please stop trying to look normal. You just look constipated.” The blonde man said as she huffed her offense. The words had barely left his mouth before they locked eyes in a non-verbal battle, Wanda silently begging her brother to ignore her outburst. Unfortunately for the brunette, it was a plea that Pietro fully ignored, tilting his head as a shit-eating grin overtook his features. “Gimme!” He exclaimed and lunged for the card hidden behind her back.
“Pietro!” Wanda squeaked as she practically bolted away, though she soon realized she did not have much room to run with the flower displays strewn about the showroom. Either way, her twin was always the faster of the pair. For the last three years, Pietro’s had a full-ride to Sword & Shield University for track, and Wanda had always hated exercising. She attended SSU on an academic scholarship, instead. He easily caught up to her, snatching the piece of paper from her hands and holding it high above her reach. She groaned in annoyance.
“What, Wanda? Can you not just curse me into relenting?” He stuck his tongue out playfully as she rolled her eyes.
“You know that’s not how Wicca works. Come on, Piet! It really is nothing, just give it back!” She tried, though she knew it was no use. Pietro was already scanning the information on the card, holding it higher.
“Romanoff, huh? Crushing on the woman across the way?” He looked at her, his eyes lit up with mischief. She made one last-ditch attempt to jump and reach the card, but he simply pressed a palm to her forehead to keep her at arm's length.
“No! She is nobody. Come on, Steve is going to see this on the cameras.” Wanda whined, already embarrassed by the idea of their boss watching the scene from the app on his phone. The blonde just ignored her, turning the card over and letting out a teasing noise once again.
“Ooh look, sestra! Your girlfriend wrote a note!” He waved the card so that she could see the neat writing, yet it was still out of her reach.
“She is not my girlfriend!” Wanda’s face burned at the term.
“Wanda,” Pietro started, using his most dramatic tone, “thank you for your help today. Thought I’d repay you. If you ever want a consultation, it’s on me.” The blonde man made childish kissy faces down at her and laughed heavily, which gave Wanda the opportunity to catch him off guard. She yanked the card from his hands and read over the words carefully, noting the signature sparkly ink of the scarlet-red gel pen she kept at the counter. Natasha must have written it and slipped it into the tip jar when she had her back turned.
“Well, I am sure you would love to be on her.” Pietro teased, earning a slap to the arm as Wanda’s face turned impossibly darker. She ignored him, finishing her cleaning as the man laughed. Once Pietro’s teasing had calmed down, she decided it was time to lock up for the night. She ushered the still-snickering man towards the door, clicking the lights off before pulling it open.
Glancing in the direction of the tattoo parlor, she looked up to see devastatingly piercing emerald looking right back at her. The woman was still without her jacket and leaning against the wall by her front door, evidently, on a smoke break. Normally, Wanda would wrinkle her nose at the sight of that much ink staining a person’s skin and the smell of burnt tobacco in the air, but for some reason, Natasha made all the difference. She looked beautiful, with long whisps of milky-white smoke trailing up from between the ballet slippers tattooed onto her knuckles. The redhead simply sent her another teasing wink, stubbing out her cigarette and heading back inside her own shop. I have to talk to her again.
This was when a thought that had never, ever occurred to Wanda before invaded her mind.
“Do you think I would look good with a tattoo?” She felt herself blurting out before she could really think about how truly out of character it was, staring at the still-lit neon across the street.
All she heard over the chime of the doorframe bell was Pietro choking on his own air in shock.