Chapter Text
Three minutes. Wanda has never considered assigning a number to the concept of eternity but she's certain it would be these three minutes. It takes an unanticipated amount of self control to simply remain still, powers brimming just below the surface, red flickering between her fingers with each painfully elongated second. When her timer finally beeps, Wanda almost falls off the edge of the tub, legs uncoordinated as she approaches the sink. A shaky breath in as she looks down and then out with a shuddering “Shit” followed by a hand over her mouth. She can't have just said shit, years down the line when someone asks what her first reaction was it can't be shit. But once the unmistakable touch of water hits her hand it no longer matters as Wanda turns around, tears blurring the room, forcing her to find a wall and slide down it until she's on the floor.
For what it's worth, she has no idea what emotion to assign the tears, torn between joy, fear, nervousness, disbelief, excitement, trepidation, or maybe something else entirely. Adding to the confusion is the way thoughts speed through her mind so quickly that not a single, discernible notion of intelligible meaning emerges. Nothing makes sense.
A half-laugh, half-sob falls from her lips.
A piercing four note chime startles her, hand rummaging in the pockets of her sweatshirt until she finds her phone. “Shit.” Wanda leans her head against the wall, fingers shaking as she wipes the evidence of tears from her face and steadies her voice enough to talk. One final breath out and she taps the screen, smile forced in an effort to convince not only him but herself that everything is okay. “What’s up, Maximoff?”
It doesn’t matter that it’s been seven months or that she’s called him that multiple times a day, the way Vision’s lips rise and irises flick counterclockwise in wonderment fills her with adoration, her own smile moving from forced to genuine with ease. “Good evening, Wanda. How are you?”
Which is a loaded question, eyes briefly wandering to the counter. “I’m...okay?”
“Have you been crying?”
She lifts a finger to her face, confirming a new stream of tears from her left eye. “Yeah, Sam made me watch Marley and Me, damn dog, right?” The downturn of his lips and sympathetic nod confirms that he buys the lie. “How’s the mission?”
Vision’s shrug is synchronized with a scrunch of his lips that conveys a general air of eh. “The locals seem to believe I am the devil and thus Agent Romanov determined it best to relegate me to ship duty in an attempt to reduce the chance of mass hysteria.”
“Poor thing.”
“It is terribly boring and the playlist Sam provided seems to consist of one, ever looping song of questionable taste.”
Wanda laughs, relief washing over her the longer she stares at his face and listens to his voice. “I was wondering when you were going to find that. You mean you don’t like Sir Mix-a-lot?” A shake of his head and another scrunch of his lips is all the response she needs to bring another laugh from her lungs.
Vision turns his face away from the screen, head nodding at someone who just entered the ship. “I must go, Captain Rogers wishes to meet. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Alright, have a safe trip back. Love you.”
A gentle smile and a “Love you, too” ends the call. Wanda breathes out, hands pushing down against the ground as she stands. Hesitantly she walks to the sink, picking up the stick and confirming that the two lines still exist. So she’s pregnant, nothing wrong with that, she and Vision have been talking about the possibility of children for months, poring over the different options and avenues, so clearly this is not unwanted. It’s just, she needs to figure out how to tell him, balancing the joy of such a miracle with the very scientifically confirmed fact that it's supposed to be impossible. Wanda moves to their room, pacing in a u-shaped path around the bed, mind running through all the potential questions Vision is likely to ask.
The first, she imagines, will be “Are you sure?” And the box claimed a 99% accuracy so, yes fairly sure, but, he’d probably point out the extraordinary nature of their lives and the fact that she could quite likely be part of the 1% that gets a false positive. Wanda grabs a water bottle and starts drinking, wandering back into the bathroom to grab another test and then she can hear the annoyingly articulate way he’d inquire if this particular brand offers the most rigorous assessment. An aggravated “fine” is sighed into the air as Wanda grabs her Steve-approved baseball cap and aviators, checking herself once over before leaving the room.
Wanda stands frozen in the aisle, eyes flicking across the numerous boxes, most varying shades of pinks and purples, with blue speckled in between. This is why she only bought the one kind before, deciding on the cheapest and easiest to grab, because somehow there are fifteen different options. Some offering accuracy up to one day after a missed period, others not specifying, though whether it means the result would be different is unclear. But, Wanda determines, a false negative is not the issue so early detection probably isn't the most pressing concern.
Another woman walks down the aisle and Wanda can feel her heartbeat increasing, palms clamming up as she ducks her head down creating a curtain of hair between them. If anyone got a picture of an Avenger buying a pregnancy test it would be guaranteed to make the front page of tomorrow’s news. Given the already tempestuous response to her marriage, that is not something Wanda’s willing to risk. Luckily the woman keeps going, moving into the next aisle without even glancing in her direction.
Wanda turns her attention back to the shelf and frowns, indecision gnawing away at her patience. Does she go with a test that gives lines, or is a cross pattern better? There is a $40 box that offers a clearly labeled “Pregnant :)” or “Not Pregnant :(.” Another person enters the aisle and Wanda impulsively grabs three different brands, figuring Vision can’t argue with all of them, and moves to the checkout, happily remembering her somewhat strategic choice of store as this is the only one nearby with a self-checkout.
The next morning she sits on the bed, legs crossed and hands delicately balanced on her knees, eyes closed as scarlet weaves around her body. Any minute now Vision will phase through the wall and have his life changed forever, hopefully for the good, but she spent an insomniatic night going through each possible reaction, wholly unsure of the most likely outcome.
Wanda sighs, briefly losing the center of calm she so carefully constructed. Where she thought eternity existed in the limbo of three minutes, she realizes now that waiting for Vision constitutes a different plane of eternity, one that transcends multiple universes. Wanda imagines, thanks to a recent afternoon on the roof spent hypothesizing with Vision, that for all time there is at least one universe that always houses a close to trembling Wanda waiting to break the news. Unfortunately it appears that her universe is currently fulfilling that duty.
The roar of the quinjet’s engines and the clicking of landing gear signals the return of her teammates. Based on years of observation, assuming he doesn't get pulled into an immediate debriefing, it usually takes Vision about three minutes to phase from the hangar to their room. Wanda nods her head, fingers curling into fists as she readies herself for another eternity. Though this time she figures she can track it, eyes closing tighter as her mind reaches out, seeking the serenity of ordered thoughts and carefully controlled emotions, a smile tugging at her lips once she hones in on its beauty. The feeling of matter rushing through her, the light breeze of molecules parting and trailing along her arms, hair standing on edge at the tingle of a metal wall as compared to the glass windows has become almost an addiction. Vision moves from the hangar into the conference room, down the hall, a sense of weightlessness holding her breath hostage as he phases up through the duct system to enter the common room, a pressure in her hand confirms a goodwill offering of tea, a rapid succession of his stroll through the walls and then a brilliant white burst of joy. “Hey there.”
Still in his mind, she can feel the pull of his cheeks, muscles easing into a lopsided smile as he approaches her, her fingers twitching when he places the mug on the table, and a warmth billowing up from her stomach and extended out to wrap around them as he presses his lips to her own. Immediately all senses converge on the smooth ridges of his lips and the slight, yet exhilarating press of his mouth. Once it ends, Wanda opens her eyes and takes in the unruffled lines of his meticulously crafted sweater and dress shirt. “Hello, Wanda. Ten in the morning and yet still in bed.”
“Oh shut up.”
Vision’s lips part for a rare, toothy grin. “Would you like your gift?”
Their routine has been set for a long time, an unspoken agreement of a token for each mission apart and then a joint one for each mission together. It started as a way to decorate their room, when they finally moved in together, a methodological process to add in touches of each personality while also including pieces that represented them as one unit. “Of course, how was the rest of the mission?”
A small, white box with a red bow is passed into her hands as he sits down next to her. “Similarly boring, the talks apparently went well and it was deemed overall to be successful.”
“Good.” Wanda fiddles with the ribbon, giving up after a couple seconds and tearing it off with an arc of red from her finger. Inside the box is an intricately painted wooden figurine, skin red with malevolent eyes, black lines traced along the scalp and down the arms, a brown robe wrapped around the body, and two tiny horns coming up from the head. She holds it up so that it is level with his face, eyes squinting in scrutiny. “You know, I can certainly see the resemblance.”
“It is striking.”
A moment of contentment leads into budding nerves. “I, um,” the half of the night that wasn’t spent in soul-crushing contemplation of all the ways this could go horribly wrong, was instead dedicated to a careful rehearsal of exactly how to break the news. Wanda bites her lip at the subtle tilt of his head, anticipation of the rest of her sentence evident on his face as she reaches behind her back and grabs a box. “I have, um, something for you as well.” Once he takes it, Wanda can feel her body sag with relief that at least for right now it is out of her hands.
Vision stares down at the box, flicking his eyes up to level a curious stare at her before looking back down, fingers lifting the lid and then stopping. She watches as his eyes rotate, first to the right and then back to the left, jaw dropping just enough to part his lips. “Wanda?”
“Vision.”
She can sense the conflict in his mind as he chooses his response. “This is not some elaborate prank you and Sam concocted while I was gone, is it?” Well, at least shit isn't the worst response to finding out anymore.
“No.”
“I see.” And that’s all he says for what feels like a whole new type of eternity, the air between them thickening as he lifts the stick out of the box to examine it better. Wanda finds herself concentrating on his hand, mesmerized by the way light bends against his vibranium wedding ring. “You…” her eyes move up to his face, latching on to the curve of his lips as she waits for the rest of the statement. “You are pregnant?”
“Appears so.”
His eyes blink, and then he appears to lose control of them, lids fluttering in time with the rapid fire of half-formed thoughts in his brain. “Are you sure? From my understanding there is a small chance of a type I error with such tests.”
“Hold on.” Wanda stands from the bed, moving into the bathroom where she grabs a small tub and returns to the bed. “Have a look.” Her eyes follow along with his as he stares at the sea of double lines and crosses and Pregnant :)s.
Dense, uncomfortable silence remains between them as he shakes the tub, checking that each and every test has the same result. And then he surprises her, a broad smile parting his lips, arms wrapping around her as he stands to bring her into a full bodied hug, twirling her around three times before finishing with a drawn out kiss. Relief washes over her, tears pricking at her eyes while she grabs the sides of his face, melting into his lips.
For a time there is nothing else, simply the uniform beating of their hearts and the euphoric press of his body against hers, his mouth never straying far from smiling. This, this is something that should last an eternity and yet she can sense the pinpoint of logic forming at the back of his mind, attempts with a stroke of her hands and a deepening of the kiss to exorcise it from his thoughts, yet it grows until he leans back, fingers still tangled in her hair. Though the smile remains for now, tips of his lips inching downwards, his eyes widen and Wanda realizes she hasn’t seen a look like this since she buried him ten stories in the ground. The next words are a whisper, “Wanda,” syllables breaking his thought in two, tone starting high and tumbling down into a meager, terrified question, “how?”
Having spent the majority of her adolescence in a mode of continual survival has produced certain defense mechanisms that typically are not an issue, until she utilizes them incorrectly. “Come on, I know Helen gave you the Talk.” She reaches out to rub his arm, a half-hearted smile attempting to ease away the tension. “When two people love each other very much…”
“Yes, you are fully aware that I understand the mechanisms of sexual intercourse. I just,” Vision steps away from her, removing himself a distance away that she cannot easily reach out and touch him. “I am sterile, Wanda. How?” In all the years they have known each other, through every high and the unfortunate lows, Wanda has never felt such a cloud fill his mind, words caught in a cyclone of despairingly sharp logic, never slowing enough to form a complete sentence. And she sympathizes, knowing her own mind reeled the day before yet she finds his terrifying, realizing in this moment the reliance she has on the surety of his calm and ordered thoughts. “How?”
Wanda sits on the edge of the bed, “Maybe you’re not sterile after all.”
“All of the tests were conclusive.”
“Well,” she shifts to the side just enough to reach out to him, “it’s not like there’s another possibility, it has to be you.” And her fingers dip through his shoulder, tears gathering in the the corners of her eyes when he refuses to look at her.
“Are you sure that I am th--” Vision shuts his mouth, mind clamping instantly at the disparaging thought though not quickly enough for her to miss the implication and the image of the damn pool boy who wouldn’t stop flirting with her on their honeymoon. “Wanda, may I have time to process this?”
She wants to say ‘of course’, wants to run her hands over his back, wants to whisper assurances of her devotion, but instead she just stares, a sob shaking her body as he phases down through the floor.
Wanda doesn’t see him again that night, fading in and out of sleep, each disoriented moment of wakefulness punctuated by a hand reaching out and finding the sheets cold next to her. The next morning is no better, though there is a fresh cup of tea on the nightstand, either an olive branch or an unfortunate habit he has yet to break. As time ticks by, eternally long seconds morphing into minutes, which transform into hours filled with eons, Wanda finds herself wandering the compound, haunting the hallways with her listless attempts at distraction.
“You okay?” Sam’s voice stops her in the common space, caught halfway between the couch and the doorway.
“Have you seen Vision?”
His eyes narrow, studying her with therapeutic interest, “Yeah, we were supposed to do a paired training this morning but he said he wasn’t able to concentrate. Whatever you two are fighting about, he is in full on brood mode.” The satisfied lift to the right side of his mouth means he detected the brief smirk on her own face. “Want to talk about it?”
The answer is a resounding yes, only one thing (well, person) more comforting than a complaining session with Sam, but Wanda knows this isn’t something to bring others into until her and Vision have figured it out. “Not right now.”
“Okay,” Sam lifts his hands, signaling the matter being dropped until further notice. “Can I help you with anything else?”
With a shake of her head Wanda continues moving, hands reaching out to trail along the metal of the walls, allowing the chill to chase away the thoughts that threaten her sanity. Slowly she works her way through the rest of the compound, combing every corner and hidden corridor in an attempt to locate Vision. Stopping every so often to force herself to eat, relax for a second and then continue.
Once evening falls, she descends into the lab area. All Avengers, minus Vision and Tony, are kindly asked to stay away from the scientists during the day, incessant questions and brute force tendencies an unappealing combination for empirical activities. The hallway is dark, red light from the emergency exit signs illuminating her path enough to direct her away from the random chairs and dead equipment left for the custodial staff. Vision won’t be in just any lab, which is why she doesn’t even glance into the rooms until she reaches Helen’s workspace. Sons really do love their mothers, and the sliver of golden light shining from beneath the storage room door confirms her suspicions.
Wanda glances around, casually sending a spark of red into the lock on the lab door and enters, carefully closing it so that she doesn’t make a sound. For a split second she considers opening the storage room door and yelling surprise. Instead she utilizes Natasha’s lessens on reconnaissance, creeping through the lab, fingers sifting through the uncharacteristically messy pile of papers on the table. Wanda picks one up, tiny shockwaves creasing the paper while she glances at the results. The numbers are meaningless, always preferring to let Vision summarize the statistical conclusions, but she does recognize the test. She considered sixteen pregnancy tests redundant and annoying but, a weight slowly pulls on her chest until she has to sit down, if this paper is what she believes it to be, it means Vision has undergone the same biological and genetic tests for at least the thirtieth time, hopelessly convinced they somehow missed something. And he’s right, though she won’t say it to his face, this test is no different from the rest. His synthetic genome just different enough to render procreation impossible.
Wanda moves towards the storage room door, fist lifted as she contemplates knocking but then she glances back at the pile of papers, eyes roaming to the hazardous materials bin brimming with used needles and she can’t bring herself to bother him. Guilt grips her body, torn between needing his approval, needing his comfort, needing him to reassure her that it will be okay but knowing if she pushes him now, at this very dangerous precipice it could have everlasting effects. Her hand drops back down to her side, fingers flexing, searching for a hand to hold her own. With one last look at the door she leaves the lab.
Another unsatisfying night of sleep passes, the bed still cold next to her and an emptiness pressing against her chest. A hint of orange in the air means he still hasn’t shaken the habit of bringing her tea, and she reaches out to grip it, confused when a laminated piece of paper hits her face. It takes a concerted effort to untie the paper from her mug, and Wanda takes a sip of tea while examining the carefully typed out list.
Total Caffeine Intake Allowed: 200mg
Daily Sources of Caffeine
Source Mg
Earl Gray Tea 24
Dark Roast Coffee 95
Small Mocha 100
Hot Chocolate 7
Ghirardelli Square 14
12 oz Soft Drink 71
The list (impressively) continues for another 12 items, and with each item her brow creases further, confused why Vision left this for her. A romantic apology note is one thing, but a list of caffeine is something entirely new. “I thought it would be good to start tracking such things.”
“Shit, Vizh!” The pounding of her heart only intensifies when she checks on the red cloud holding the blob of spilled tea suspended over her lap.
He’s sitting in the armchair across from the bed, legs stretched out on the ottoman, crossed at the ankles, the book in his hand indicating that he has been there for much longer than she realized. The way guilt manifests on his face when he surprises her, pupils dilating and his fingers fidgeting while he avoids staring at her for extended periods of time, brings a sense of normalcy that has been missing the past two days. “My apologies, I did not intend to startle you.” Wanda watches as he pulls the bookmark from the back pages, repositioning it before closing the book in his hand, and she can’t help but smile just slightly at the title What to Expect When You’re Expecting . “I,” he lifts the book to show her, finger tapping the very pregnant stomach on the cover for emphasis, “have been beginning to examine the processes your body is undertaking. It is truly fascinating and awe-inspiring. Did you know, based on my calculations that your last ovulation was December 15,” which raises a bunch of questions that Wanda has to ignore to let him continue, “you are currently 5 weeks pregnant? Right now the embryo is the size of a sesame seed.”
“That small?”
Vision smiles at her, chipping away at the tension still between them. “Yes, it is remarkable, by the end of your pregnancy the baby will be the size of a giant watermelon.” Wanda finds herself at a loss for words, unable to determine what exactly this conversation means for them. “Wanda.” Placing the book down, Vision stands, shyly approaching her, a slight nod asking permission to sit next to her and all she can think to do is grab his hand and pull him down. His fingers lace through hers, thumb rubbing her skin as he speaks. “I wish to apologize for my reaction the other day. Dr. Cho and I have yet to reach a scientifically satisfying reason for the conception, but I realize now that it does not matter to me near as much as you do. I love you, Wanda Maximoff, and though I am unsure of my abilities to provide a good life fo--”
“Vision,” her free hand tilts his chin up, making eye contact as she enters his mind, derailing his self-deprecating explanation, “I love you too, and you know you can’t get rid of me.”
“Nor would I want to do such a thing.”
“Good,” Wanda leans forward, tenderly kissing him to convey her relief at having him back, deciding in that moment there isn’t more to be said, perhaps best to repress the statistical uncertainties and doubts, treating the process as normal in an attempt to protect the most precious aspect of their lives. “So Maximoff, what’s next?”
A brilliant smile and a finger lifted to let her know she needs to be patient precedes him phasing through the bed on his way to the chair, returning with a page long list of numbered steps. “I believe first is to find a doctor, which Dr. Cho has recommended some and then we can move on to identifying the best prenatal vitamins and diet for a healthy pregnancy.” The list continues for well over three minutes, yet Wanda neither cares nor notices.