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Across the table, Vision checks his watch for the tenth time, fingers drumming anxiously at the result. “It doesn’t start for forty-five minutes.”
He is, predictably, not amused. “There is a lot to discuss before it begins.”
Tonight is going to be one of the the last tests of her hypothesis concerning Vision and Wanda’s compatibility. From many years of dominating bar trivia with Vision in graduate school, Natasha is aware that he can be a bit intense when competition is on the line. If Wanda can match that, or at least accept it, which she thinks she will, then, given the results of all the other tests thus far, there really isn’t anything else that can get in their way. Other than themselves, but she can only do so much about them being clueless idiots. “How’s our team stacking up?”
Vision nods, pulling out his phone and scrolling until he gets to the updated Preparing for Bar Trivia report he shared with all of them earlier this week. It’s only five pages and two appendices, which is a lot of restraint for him. “We are a very well-rounded team. I’ve been challenging Sam on Trivia Crack and he has a strong base in athletics, history, military, and popular culture, primarily music.” Two of those are Vision’s slightly weaker categories so that is good. “Wanda and I have been working through questions at lunch,” every single day, or so Wanda tells Natasha each night when they have dinner. Thankfully, her roommate has found the constant grilling fun instead of overbearing, and it has greatly increased the frequency of their lunches together, so a win-win situation. “I spoke with the bar owner last night,” while the rest of them were enjoying nachos and gossiping about the meltdown that occurred in engineering when the mechanical engineers tried to oust the civil engineers from a government grant, “and there is apparently a television section with audio clips, so I believe she will be our clutch player during that.”
It’s a lie to say only Vision is intense, he and Natasha have, a time or two before, driven away other teammates who couldn’t match their drive to succeed. “Any idea of the other teams here?”
There aren’t many yet because it’s still early, but there are tables filling up and drinks are flowing heavily from the bar. “I see a few other Marvel Institute teams, but I do not know any of them well enough to form a conclusion and refuse to give in to schematic bias or implicit personality theory to do so.”
Natasha acts as if she’s stretching, twisting just enough to get a look at the competition. Three researchers from sociology are in the back corner, they’re not worrisome to her because they will probably bicker too much to reach consensus. Two tables away is a group of two chemists and two mathematicians, they could be a slight threat depending on what topics are on for tonight. And then, across the room, is a ragtag group like their own, another psychologist (Pheromone Guy, Sam calls him), a criminologist, a computer scientist, and a top administrator that’s on her bowling team who has former secret intelligence ties, like herself. “They might be trouble over there.”
A flick of his eyes confirms he will track that table for the night, otherwise Vision remains nonchalant. “Tonight we will have to establish our baseline and strategize as needed for next week.”
“Agreed.”
Vision twists his wrist again, frowning as he grabs his phone and begins typing out what is probably a polite but secretly terse summons. Almost immediately the screen lights up. “Wanda says they are walking over now.”
Sure enough, three minutes later their other two teammates arrive, both taking the seats to either side of Vision, as planned. Natasha needed to make sure Wanda sat next to her collaborator so that she could continue collecting her own data. “Sorry we’re a bit late.” Wanda pats Vision’s shoulder as she sits down, leading Natasha to open her own spreadsheet under the table and mark down the physical contact. “The lasers were taking forever to shut down.”
“Understandable.” Another mark into her spreadsheet, Vision wouldn’t have said that to Sam, no matter the excuse. “First thing we must do —”
“Is get some drinks,” Sam grins, knowing damn well that wasn’t what Vision was going to say. “Everyone want their usual?”
An awkward silence descends, Sam either not having read the report Vision sent or actively rebelling against it. Vision folds his hands over the high top table, remaining calm. “We agreed to abstain from libations until after trivia is done.”
“We did?”
“Yes,” Vision hands his phone to Sam, no doubt the exact page and section centered on the screen, “as you can see, it was clearly stated that keeping our minds sharp is of great importance. No one raised objections.”
Sam hands the phone back, mortified. “I thought you were joking.”
“Nothing is more serious than trivia.”
Natasha actually agrees with Vision on this one, so she backs him up, adding in the other part of the report as well. “Vision said he’d buy the first round post-game.”
“I did. Two rounds if we win.” When no other retorts or pushback come, though Sam looks like he wants to, Vision swings them back on track, leaning his sweater-clad elbows on the high top table while meeting each of their gazes before declaring, “As you know, it is of utmost importance we select a strong team name as it will become our superordinate identity on these nights.” It was item number one on his Preparing for Bar Trivia report. “After many rounds of voting,” in a mini-March madness style bracket for all eight options that had been submitted, two for each person, “we will be known as the Quantumplators.”
Wanda obviously knew it was a finalist, but she’d admitted to Natasha that she assumed Sam’s The Jung and the Restless would win out, which is why she’s genuinely surprised, “Really?”
Vision’s smile is soft, etched with respect. “Really.” He even pulls up the poll where her name suggestion got three of the four votes and shows it to Wanda who leans almost close enough to touch their shoulders together (not quite enough for another data point). “It has the requisite dynamics for a good bar trivia name, a pun that is also identifying for those involved. Well done.”
What does get marked in Natasha’s ever growing database of her friends’ behavior is the way Wanda basks in the sense of accomplishment from his approval, a pleased curve to her mouth and a very subtle blush along her neck. “Thanks.”
Vision does not bask, moving on along his list of pre-trivia warm-up. “As discussed in my report, I have spent the past week and a half determining our strengths and weaknesses on common overarching topics. Though we all overlap in our knowledge at certain places, we must rely on each other in order to be victorious.” The tone of his voice is not that different from some war general in a movie giving one last rousing speech before a suicide mission. “No single person here can win this, we must do it together.”
Finally seeming to connect the dots of how Vision has been acting lately, Sam butts in, “Is that why you’ve been kicking my ass on Trivia Crack?”
“Precisely.”
“At least you got the app,” Wanda is jovial as she talks, “I got grilled every day at lunch. Some days I felt like an idiot.”
“So did I.”
Immediately Vision does damage control for Wanda, but not Sam, “You are extremely intelligent. Everyone has weak topics.”
Sam’s, “Not you,” is shrugged aside, Vision unwilling to openly admit to his trivia prowess even if he is well aware of it. “Can I at least get a drink that isn’t alcoholic?”
“Of course.”
“Great.” Sam takes everyone else’s orders and leaves them.
While he is gone, Vision continues with their strategy, pulling a canvas bag from under the table (it has a smiling neuron on it proclaiming “Don’t waste your potential!”). From it he removes what will likely be the most contested object of the evening. Wanda is already eying it up, “Vizh, what’s that?”
It’s shaped like a miniature prison with plastic bars and a touchpad on top with numbers. “It’s for our phones.”
This is the first hurdle of intensity, Wanda tightening her lips, calculating how to approach this, eventually deciding on a simple, “Why?”
“To eliminate the temptation to touch our devices during trivia and thus eliminate any chance we get disqualified.” Wanda sends an imploring look her way, begging for an eye roll or a wink or something to say Vision isn’t being serious; Natasha can’t offer anything because he is completely serious…and she’s the one that sent him links to various options when he brought up the idea of it during one of their morning runs. “It is only for the duration of the trivia.”
Wanda relents, vaulting over the first hurdle as she flashes Vision a close-lipped smile, “Wouldn’t want to risk being disqualified. Here.”
It's during the imprisonment of their phones that Sam returns with all four drinks and an, “Oh come on.”
“Just put your phone in there.” Fascinating that Wanda is the social pressure here, already converted to Vision’s way of acting and backing him up. If Natasha had her phone, she’d make a note of this new behavior in her Wanda and Vision file. It’ll have to remain a mental note for now.
Sam throws his hands up, “Fine,” surrendering his phone and channeling his annoyance into clutching his drink. “You all take this way too seriously.”
A loud crackle goes through the bar, several people covering their ears as the man at the front taps on a microphone, “Is this thing on?” Several yeses respond, the man adjusting his baseball cap from front to back before leaning into the microphone so that his voice can project over the continued chatter at the bar. “Awesome, we’ll be getting started in a couple minutes, so if you want a drink, now’s the time.” All the poor planners who hadn’t yet gotten their drinks rush to the bar.
Vision, with his authoritative voice that only comes out at trivia, keeps their team focused. “Any last minute concerns or questions?”
“Can I just have one shot?”
Sam’s persistence is lobbed like a feeble pebble that clatters helplessly against Vision’s stalwart resolve. “No.” To add insult to injury, Vision digs through his canvas bag, pulling out a little travel spray bottle with an utterly serious offer, “Would you like me to spritz the rim with vodka so your brain believes it is alcohol?”
Thankfully Sam cackles, hand waving away the suggestion, “Pretty sure the placebo only works if I don’t see you spray it.”
“Methodologically, yes.” Along with legitimate research methodology and purpose, this same tactic also worked for Vision at some of Simon’s summer BBQs to go unnoticed in his desire to not allow his guard down around his advisor who would, without doubt, take incriminating photos but also judge someone if they didn’t smell of alcohol.
Wanda squints at the bottle, head tilting at the ridiculousness of the man beside her. “Is that really vodka?”
“It is.”
“I don’t believe you.” Wanda slides her seltzer over to Vision, “Spray it.” A gentle mist descends on the rounded rim of her cup, Wanda picking it up and sniffing before taking a drink. “Huh.” Another sip from a different part of the rim seems to settle it. “Do you always carry vodka around with you?”
It’s Vision’s turn to blush, just slightly at the tips of his cheekbones, a mildly embarrassed chuckle going along with it. “No, just um, when I might need it.”
A mischievous delight flickers along Wanda’s face, Natasha getting ready to mentally track the banter that’s about to happen, this face preceding about 75% of the flirtatious comments Wanda makes towards Vision, and, when this face is the precursor, Vision is almost 92% more likely to respond with an equally flirtatious remark and a longer session of banter than without the look. Sadly, the microphone stops it. “Alright everyone, who’s ready for trivia?!” There’s clapping and some tipsy whoops through the room. “Great!” The man goes on to explain the rules of the night. There are three rounds. For each round a sheet of paper will be distributed to each team to write their answers on. Absolutely no yelling out answers, though within team discussion is allowed. Between each round they will calculate the scores and update the leader board, this is also when people can get more drinks. Two of the rounds will be questions and then answers, and one of the rounds will be audio only, where the teams must identify the song, show, or movie. Cell phones, as expected, are prohibited while scoring sheets are out at the tables. “The winning team will receive a fifty dollar voucher for the bar and grill.”
Sam elbows Vision, “Your two rounds are on top of that voucher, right?”
“Yes.”
“Sweet.”
“Cell phones away, everyone!”
Vision makes sure their cell phone jail is clearly visible in the center of their table as the first round sheets are passed out. Through an unconscious group hive mind, the sheet is immediately ceded over to Vision, who brought his own pen to use. Before the sheet is put on the table, Vision wipes down the surface with a napkin, just in case any perspiration from their virgin drinks dares to try and muddy their answers. “I will write our answers.” Obviously. “But will not do so until a consensus has been reached.”
“So this first round,” the microphone cuts through the last of the chatter that had permeated the bar, “is general trivia, just dippin’ our toes in. For each question you will have thirty seconds to write down your answer. Once you’ve written it down, no changing it. That’s on the honor system, okay?” Several okays and wordless yells are sent out, confirming the rule is fine, though Vision frowns, never a fan of the honor system when alcohol and competition are involved. “First question: Norville Rogers is the name of which cartoon character.”
Immediately Vision whispers out, “Shaggy,” looking around the table for consensus, which Natasha and Wanda give and Sam has a sort of lop-sided smile. “Good.”
“Listen, I watched Scoob — ”
Vision immediately shuts down the comment, “Do not provide any hints to those who might be listening in.”
Whatever Sam was going to say dissolves in the acidic response, reforming into a disbelieving shake of his head, “Chill out, man. No one is listening.”
Except Wanda has apparently drank from the competitive vodka spray bottle, nodding her head towards the table next to them, “They don’t know it and are trying to see if they can hear anyone.”
“So Wanda’s listening.”
Sam’s observation is countered by Vision’s condoning, “She is gathering intel.”
“Okay.” Sam reaches past Vision to grab the spray bottle and begins spritzing his glass with vodka. “Lots of cognitive dissonance going on tonight.”
“Next question.” The rising tension at their table settles as they all listen intently. “Which African country was formerly known as Abyssinia?”
This one is easy for Natasha, but she likes to remain silent until she knows no one else has it. Of their team, Wanda shakes her head, eyes curving towards Vision, and Sam just sips his vodka tinged drink, waiting. Vision meets Natasha’s eyes, acknowledging that he is aware she knows it but the tiny quirk of his lips means he does too. Giving in to old times, Natasha holds up three fingers, silently counting down until they both whisper, “Ethiopia,” at the same time before chuckling at the stares of their teammates. “The change,” Vision always likes to provide tidbits of additional information as he writes down the answer, “occurred officially in 1945 when registered to the United Nations, but it is more complicated than that as Abyssinia was how Europeans referred to the region but the people of the region used the current name instead.”
If only Natasha had her phone, she’d mark down the wonder on Wanda’s face and the way she gets absolutely sucked into Vision’s little sidebar, “That’s fascinating.”
“It is.”
“Question three,” the brief moment is eradicated, both Wanda and Vision looking up at the front of the bar with serious stares, “Invented by the YMCA physical education director in 1895, what current Olympic event was originally called Mintonette?”
Oddly, Vision shifts his attention to Sam, expectation nestling onto his face as a proud, toothy grin alights on Sam’s as he states, “Volleyball.”
Vision’s, “Correct,” makes it known he also had that answer.
Next comes one that actually causes debate, “What was the first message sent by Morse code?”
Wanda begins with justifiable uncertainty, “Going to guess it wasn’t Hello.”
“Yeah,” Sam spritzes his drink with more vodka, “going to guess no on that. I think I learned this at some point in the military but,” the thought trails off with a shrug that conveys his mind is blank.
Natasha also has learned this, along with actual Morse code, but even it taunts her, “It has something to do with God…I think.”
Only one of them is certain, Vision already writing in an answer as he confirms her suspicions, “It does.” Wordlessly he passes the sheet around so they can see his uniformly spaced letters spelling out What hath God wrought and then next to it is Vision’s silent bragging .-- .... .- - / .... .- - .... / --. --- -.. / .-- .-. --- ..- --. .... - “We have some ears straining next to us.”
Sure enough, one of the people at the table Wanda had already spotted quickly averts their eyes, the universal sign for a spy caught in their less than stellar attempts at being devious. Natasha, as of now, isn’t concerned, focusing more on how extra her friend likes to be. “You really felt the need to put the code itself?”
“Never hurts to go fishing for some bonus points.” It’s not a lie, his extra-ness has gotten them the occasional bonus point, usually only when they were already far enough ahead for it not to matter or the one trivia host that had a thing for Vision.
His face was very similar to the awed one Wanda wears as she passes the sheet back to Vision, “Do you really know Morse code?”
Unlike his response to the advances from said trivia host, Vision actually acknowledges her with a shy smile, “I do,” growing sheepish about his knowledge and diverting away attention by roping Natasha in, “but Natasha knows it as well.”
“So do I.” Sam raps a series of quick knocks and more drawn out ones, spelling show off with a pointed look towards Vision, who taps back a solemn Sorry.
Wanda watches the entire exchange as if it were her photons scattering about, mapping the movements she doesn’t understand fully yet. “What are you two saying?”
Before Vision can tell the truth, Sam grins, “He said you look cute tonight.”
“I did not.” Maybe Natasha should rope Sam into her experiment, the man clearly picking up on the detectable attraction between their friends, expertly forcing Vision to first of all say something truthful but damning, which then forces him to do damage control, turning pleading eyes towards Wanda. “Not that you do not look lovely tonight,” and now he reels from having admitted Wanda looks good, stammering out, “it’s just, um, well, not, um what I said.”
The damn trivia host and his microphone blocks out whatever it is Wanda says to Vision that makes his face scrunch up in relief. “How we feelin’ out there?”
A “Too easy!” is shouted from the other ragtag Marvel group, Sean, the pheromone guy, already sounding a bit drunk, a boon to them. “Give us a challenge.”
The host laughs, clutching the microphone as he flips a page on the table, “Let’s try another then. According to the US Postal Service and the Citizens’ Stamp Advisory Committee, what kind of person cannot be honored on a U.S. postal stamp.”
Sam seems to like being one of the first to fill a silence, “I’m going to guess anyone who isn’t a U.S. Citizen.”
Except Natasha knows this is false, as does Vision based on the little shake of his head. The only reason Natasha knows is that she used to collect stamps when she was a kid and undercover, it felt like something a normal kid should do and also allowed her to form a makeshift code system to use based on the stamps. Some of the faces she’d gathered were decidingly not U.S. citizens like Winston Churchill, Martin Luther, Gandhi, the virgin Mary, and Jesus. “They let non-citizens be on some stamps.”
“Yes,” her fact-checker confirms the comment, pen tapping against the paper as Vision rattles off, “if a non-U.S. citizen has made a significant impact on American culture or history, they can be allowed.”
Wanda is fixated on the movement of the pen, her questioning words coming out in the same rhythm as the tapping, “Don’t they have to be dead, or something like that?”
The pen stops, lifting to point at Wanda with Vision’s, “Bingo.” Which immediately fills Natasha with a sense of failure to not have finished connecting the dots even though she knew the answer, not that anyone is judging her, Vision, the only one who might, and he wouldn’t, too focused on sharing a tidbit with Wanda. “As of 2018, they must be dead for a minimum of three years before they can be considered for a stamp.”
“Some blank stares on that one.” The host is grinning now. “Next up, What year was Jurassic Park released?”
Sam, yet again, chimes in first, “Definitely the 90s.”
“Do you believe they are asking about the book or the movie?” A vague-ness Vision finds detestable, based on the way his knuckles whiten around the pen.
Their table sits in silences, attempting to parse it out. “I’d have to assume the book?” Natasha has no basis for this other than past experience at similar trivia nights. “But they’re asking for a challenge by not specifying.”
“They are.” The way Vision says it, Natasha knows he will jump up to challenge it should they get it wrong. “Regardless, I believe both were early 90s.” Shit, he doesn’t know.
Sam takes a sip of his vodka tinged coke. “Let’s reconstruct this. I got the vhs for Christmas when I was sixteen, which was 94. But movies released to vhs way later then than they do now to streaming.”
“So 93 for the movie?” Wanda offers the solution with a shrug.
Vision latches on to the reasoning, “That sounds feasible. I believe the book was also in the 90s. I remember reading it later on and I always read over the publishing page.” Of course he would. “I really want to say 1990, but, unfortunately, I have no solid basis for that other than my wavering memory.”
“I mean you haven’t been wrong yet, so, I’ll go with 1990 as well.” The first consensus comes from Wanda, unsurprisingly.
Sam shrugs, “Fine by me. Do we put down both just to be safe?”
This is a strategy Natasha and Vision have many times debated. Is it better to show you know both potential answers and veer on the side of looser judging, or only put the one you think they want so they can’t ding you based on the technicality that your full answer wasn’t correct? Since tonight is the first time this bar is doing trivia and they are using the honor system, and thus far, it has been fairly non-serious, Natasha is going to assume the judging will be less rigid. “I say both, but specify book versus movie.” Her three teammates nod, Vision penning in their consensus.
The remainder of the first round is eclectic, the answers ranging from Pandora being the first woman on Earth in Greek mythology all the way to turtles breathing through their butts, with detours about Winona Ryder, J.Lo and Google Images, a random question about the definition of momentum (which Wanda practically shouted the answer to before the question was done), and a couple of sports themed items about Judo belt colors and Uruguay winning the first World Cup. Or so they answered on their sheet.
As people get more drinks, their team sits and watches the front, the host having failed to mute his microphone and so the rustling of the answer sheets and the scratch of his pen ripple through the air as the first round scores are calculated.
“I don’t think we got anything wrong.” Wanda is very confident.
Vision is as well but attempts to tame it, “I only truly worry about the Jurassic Park question.”
After five minutes, the man at the front taps the pages together and stands up, ambling over to a large dry erase board set up on an easel. Underneath the heading Leaderboard and next to #1 he puts down Quantumplators—15 points.
“We got them all!” Sam holds up his hands for high fives, accepting them all, even Vision’s distracted one as their leader watches the rest of the board fill up.
“We are not safe, though.” In second, with 14 points, are the Fine-Ass Bros , based on when this is announced over the microphone and the yelling that ensues, they appear to be a table of well-dressed, slicked hair men, with one woman with straight, no-nonsense blonde hair. Third with 13 are The Marvels , who seem to be the ragtag team from their home institution. From there the teams drops off, fourth down to twelfth not even within the realms of winning unless the top three teams all pass out from drinking between now and the end.
Once the standings are announced, the host goes through the answers. “This one seemed to get quite a few of you, but Jurassic Park debuted in 1990…as a book.” The last three words are stated as a gotcha, not necessarily a point of contention, though the lone woman from the Fine-ass Bros immediately leaves her seat, the clack of her heels somehow louder than the voices around them. The argument is caught on the hot mic, despite the host putting his hand over it. She’s passionately berating him about the lack of specifying if he meant the movie or book, and that because of that, he should let the movie count. In response, he tells her to just chill out and not get her panties in a twist.
It’s this that sends Vision out of his seat and to the front, Wanda’s, “Vizh?” not stopping him. “What’s he doing?”
They can all hear it, though Vision keeps his voice low, joining the woman’s arguments about the answer. It wouldn’t be a trivia night without Vision arguing with the host at least once. “He’s getting them their point.”
Wanda’s, “Why?” is easy enough to answer.
“Because our win would be meaningless if it was due to technicality and not skill.”
Their win becomes a bit more questionable when the blonde-haired, sharply dressed woman shakes Vision’s hand and the host announces, “Next time we will be more specific. For now, anyone who put 1993 also gets a point.”
The board is updated while Vision returns to the table, face serious and braced for what he expects will be the same verbal attack that usually comes after these moments. All he gets is Sam shaking his head with, “Unbelievable,” and Wanda rolling her eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”
“I want to win with honor.”
“Oh,” Wanda sprays more vodka on the rim of her glass before lifting it for a salute, “we are going to crush them, honorably.” Vision grins, clinking his glass with hers.
That grin only gets larger during the audio round, eventually transforming into a full-fledged smile. Natasha mentally notes to add to her spreadsheet the pure, unmasked amazement on Vision’s face as Wanda identifies every single television theme song that is played, including the whispered, “Incredible” when she wins a debate with Sam over if a song was from Family Ties or Who’s the Boss, not that Vision, at this point, would have written Sam’s answer down.
After the music round they are up by three points over the Fine-Ass Bros. When this is announced, Natasha notices Wanda not looking at their table like she did last time, but glaring across the room at the second place team. “You okay?”
“We’re winning, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Alright everyone, ready for our third and final round?” People sound mostly excited. “Oh come on, you all can do better than that.” Somehow the power of a microphone instills in people this need to make everyone repeat their actions, as if corrupted by the control they have over others, it’s why Natasha refuses to make noise the second time, instead sliding her eyes to the table Wanda keeps glaring at. It’s as the host says, “That’s what I’m talking about,” that Natasha sees the woman on that team glance over towards Vision, the interest absolutely clear in the way she flicks her eyes over him, and then she turns back to her table, just as quickly. With casual ease, Natasha rotates to take in Wanda’s glare, an ember of what might be jealousy stoked within it. This is definitely going in the spreadsheet later. “So this final round is a bit different. We’ll be giving you four things and you have to decide which one isn’t like the others. We’ll be giving bonus points for teams that can explain their answer and show us they aren’t guessing.”
As the next round of papers are passed out, Vision huddles them all in for one last speech. “We must be perfect here. Every answer must have logic to it. We are one round away from victory.”
Sam continues to resist the air of pure competition at their table, happily stating, “I say we just keep having fun.”
While Wanda has completely meshed with Vision’s vision, just as Natasha hoped, “Winning is fun, I say we keep doing that.” And then Wanda sends out a casual accusation much like she does her lasers when wanting to figure out exactly how photons are moving together, “I’ve noticed that sometimes one of the Fine-Ass Bros leaves their table to go to the bathroom, and when they come back, they write stuff down.” It’s an arguably inelegant spur of the moment attempt to expel a potentially encroaching third body from their otherwise two body system.
Vision meets Natasha’s eyes, seeking congruence on the observation, but she’s been too focused on tallying all of the potentially more-than-friendly interactions between Wanda and Vision to have spent much time assessing the other teams. “I have noticed the bathroom breaks,” selfishly she wants Wanda’s expulsion attempt to work, having watched them barely squeak by their other third body issue with Simon, but she also can’t flat out lie because Vision would go straight to the host and complain, “but haven’t watched when they come back. I’ll keep an eye out this round.”
“Thank you.” Vision wipes the table down as the person with the next paper approaches, waiting until they leave to respond to the accusation. “Though I do not wish to discredit your observation,” Wanda thankfully isn’t offended…she thinks, “I believe we should focus on our own work and allow their sense of ethics to come through.”
Sam doesn’t help soothe the newfound tension at the table, “I mean, if we’re talking about ethical industries, not sure finance is at the top.”
“Should I go speak with them?”
The inelegant solution seems to be backfiring, Wanda shaking her head, watching in horror as the photon tries to bounce to the very location she doesn’t want it to go. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary right now.”
Vision accepts this, “Good.”
“Okay, everyone.” The reprieve of trivia is a good thing, a breather and a chance for Natasha to try and strategize how to handle whatever is going on with Wanda, “Here’s our first set: Spain, Algeria, France, Morocco.”
With Natasha’s early career, maps were a friend of hers, something she studied a lot while planning. “It’s Algeria.”
Even though he wasn’t ever a spy, Vision also has a love of cartography, something they’ve bonded over before, “Because it is only on the Mediterranean and not the Atlantic like the others.”
“How the hell do you two do this so fast?”
With a tight-lipped, barely there smirk, Vision informs them, “Recent research has found that brain efficiency may account for differences in retention and recall of general knowledge.”
Sam’s eyebrows raise, “You did not just try and tell me that your brain is just better than mine.”
“I did not say better,” Vision, too fueled by the success so far tonight, doesn’t hide his mild pretentiousness very well, “just more efficient.” And Wanda, based on the snicker she smothers with her hand, is eating up this glimmer of hubris from her collaborator. All seems to be veering back to their normal system, good.
“Next question.” While everyone else looks at the host, Natasha, through a side-ways gaze, notices the way Wanda studies Vision. “Jackdaw, Raven, Blue Jay, Grackle.”
With the confidence of someone just trying to have fun, Sam throws out, “Blue jay.”
“Why?” By the tone, Vision knows it is incorrect but is allowing their teammate to at least elaborate.
Sam sips his coke, unbothered, “I think the rest are black.”
“That seems too easy,” Wanda counters back, “but I don’t know what the correct answer is.”
Just like he always does, Vision provides a reasoned response, “It is actually the Grackle that doesn’t fit. Unlike the other avians, it does not belong to the corvidae family.”
Sam’s, “Huh,” is thoughtful, clearly shoving that information into his head for later use. “I don’t know my birds, so I trust you.”
“Vizh does.” The little uptick of pride in Wanda’s voice pairs well with the way she anxiously twines her fingers around her seltzer, a nervous tick she’s prone to before trying to land a remark Vision will find enjoyable, “Would you have to relinquish your Audubon membership if you get this wrong?”
Later on, just like many other moments, Natasha will mark down the self-conscious chuckle from Vision, “Perhaps not relinquish but certainly get a chiding at the next meet-up.” This gives way to an anecdote, as it does about 88% of the time. “I only found out about Blue Jays’ family when I researched their behavior. They became quite the bullies of my bird feeder in graduate school.”
This unlocks one of Natasha’s earlier memories of Vision, on one of their first long-distance runs together after they met and how amazed she was that he could spend almost three hours on one topic. “Do you remember how you almost wrote a paper about it?”
“No, please, no.”
Wanda grins, “Yes, please. What was it going to be about?”
“He had a whole journal he kept about his bird feeder and all the relationships and hierarchy of birds, squirrels, and chipmunks.” It’s honestly, Natasha thinks, a huge factor in why Vision and his ex started dating, Lorelai bragged all the time about her sexy amateur ornithologist. “He even gave them names and personalities.”
Vision pales, desperately looking to the front for the host to move onto the next question. “It was a silly idea.”
“You’re telling me everything at lunch tomorrow.”
“Next question.”
Wanda leans towards Vision, trying to get in her thoughts before the next question, “I’m serious.”
Hands held up in defeat, Vision agrees, “Fine.”
“Find the odd one out: Eric Matthews, Sue Heck, Lisa Simpson, Michael Bluth”
Vision’s brow furrows, pen hovering above the page, mind clearing still frazzled from his secrets being spilled. “I have no idea.”
“I do,” Wanda rubs her hands together, a triumphant smile on her face, “it’s Eric Matthews.” Someone else, typically Vision, would chime in now with why this is the explanation, but Wanda gets to enjoy the rare seat of exclusive knowledge. “The rest are middle children in sitcoms.”
“Damn,” Sam has hyped most of them through the night, even himself when he’s been the one to get it first, “I knew they were sitcoms but hadn’t figured out the catch.”
“Candlestick, Iron, Rope, Wrench.”
Immediately Sam answers, needing to get it in before anyone else, “Iron, the rest are Clue murder weapons.”
By the time they get through the last of the questions, there is no doubt, in their minds, that they won, Vision pre-congratulating them with a raised glass and a, “Well done, Quantumplators.”
Not long after, it is confirmed by the host announcing, “With an astoundingly perfect score, our top team tonight is the Quantumplators.” There is a round of applause from the rest of their competitors.
Obviously, Natasha loves winning, but she also likes a challenge, “That was a little too easy.”
“Yes,” Vision concurs, standing up, getting ready to grab their prize, “I have several suggestions I am going to provide when I get our voucher. Before then, however, everyone want their usual?”
Sam sends a thumbs up, “But make mine a double.”
“Ooh,” this hadn’t occurred to Wanda yet, “mine too.”
Once Vision is away from the table, winding his way through the other teams, some that shake his hand or pat his back, which he has to hate, Sam makes a claim that Natasha isn’t sure how to respond to, “We’d be so screwed if he wasn’t with us.”
Wanda nods, “I know,” now Natasha is offended, she may not quite be Vision but she’s pretty damn good, “his memory is like freakishly good.”
“Efficient, apparently.” The two laugh, Natasha deciding her pride can handle not being acknowledged right now if it means getting to enjoy a good ribbing of Vision. “You’re pretty good too.”
Finally. “I do what I can.”
“Vizh was saying you two dominated in grad school.”
It’s absolutely true. “We did. Though there was one seedy, seventies themed martini bar that had nearly impossible trivia. That was,” Wanda has stopped listening, jaw clenched and body turned to face the bar where Vision stands, the blonde-haired woman from the Fine-Ass Bros next to him, tucking a hair behind her ear as she giggles at whatever it is Vision just said.
“Well look at that.” Potentially not picking up on the negativity radiating from Wanda, Sam really hunkers down on being impressed. “Vision’s leaving with more than a voucher tonight if his game is even half as good as his trivia.” It’s not, nor does Natasha think he’d follow through, but he is politely smiling at whatever she says, not fully flinching away (because he doesn’t have space) when she brushes her hand along his arm and gives an experimental squeeze of his bicep.
If Wanda had a glass in her hand, she’d have shattered it by now with how tight her fist is. “Should we rescue him? He looks really uncomfortable.”
“Vision’s a big boy, he can handle it.” The way the comment needles at Wanda’s grimace suggests Sam knows exactly what he’s doing. Which he must, he doesn’t have to be an expert in thermodynamics to know that once entropy has been introduced, that once this spark of jealousy from Wanda got transferred out in the open, the only direction it can go is up, never down. “Maybe he’s just recruiting a fifth for our team.” Unless the weird thought experiment Wanda loves to talk about when drunk is true, and there is a little demon that can open and close a door to cut off a system from ramping up.
Vision glances at them with a little wave, opening a doorway for Wanda to act, “We don’t need a fifth.” Within seconds she is out of her chair and squeezing her way through the huddle of bodies near the bar, sliding up to Vision with a wide smile. What’s of particular note, which Natasha will put in her spreadsheet once Vision comes back with the cell phone jail code, is the relief on Vision’s face at Wanda’s presence and the way it seems to expel the blonde-haired finance woman from them.
“So,” while they wait for their actual drinks, Sam sprays more vodka on both his glass and Natasha’s, “that’s,” he waves a finger towards Wanda and Vision talking happily at the bar, “definitely happening sometime in the future, right?”
With the trivia hurdle leapt over successfully, and their study under review with the IRB, their lunches becoming daily instead of weekly, not to mention their already daily afternoon tea, and the way they’ve transitioned so easily into friendly touching, Natasha has to assume. “It better.”
“I give it,” Sam hums as he waggles his fingers against his glass, “six months before they realize it. You going over or under?”
Natasha’s already been working on getting them together for over a year now, if they don’t figure it out in six months, the only thing she’ll have left to do is lock them in a room together until they finally break. “Under.” She hopes, but the one category of knowledge she hasn’t fully nailed down yet is how to predict the chaos of her two clueless friends.