anonthenullifier

[anonthenullifier]

I was doing my every-few-months reread of A Sentry In Solitude just as they released the photos from on the set of the new Vision Quest Show... that are taken outside a pub called The Old Selkie!

I think you absolutely called it - 3 years before filming started!

That’s amazing!!! Vision cannot escape his selkie-áel destiny. Thanks for letting me know! 😊

[anonthenullifier]

Could Vision adopt a dog as a surprise for Wanda?

(cause we were robbed of my precious boi sparky) (also sparky could serve as like an unofficial therapy dog because dogs will just listen to you and love you unconditionally and wanda definitely needs that in her life) (not saying she doesn't already have that with vision but she needs a floofy cuddle buddy please)

Thanks for the super cute ask! I hope you enjoy!

****

The only reason Wanda is willingly being led through the compound with a blindfold on is because it is Vision who asked her to do it. Even then, she thought about saying no, not in the mood to fraternize or deal with whatever is going on. But he was excited.  He was practically  bouncing on his feet when he told her he had a surprise and she didn’t have the heart to crumble his mood. “Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

“I don’t like surprises.” 

“You will like this one, I promise.” Big words from the man who also promised she would enjoy the absolutely sleep inducing, mind numbingly technical documentary series on what we might find with deep space exploration. To his credit, it was the best sleep she’s had in the four months since she lost Pietro and was thrust into this life of loneliness and trying to be a hero. “I read all about the benefits to mental health and well-being the other night.”

That’s not good. The last time he said this it lead to him trying to get her to join him for 4am runs. There’s only so much she’s willing to do for him, and that was well beyond her affinity for the synthezoid. “That’s not as convincing as you think it is.”

Gently he grips her shoulders, stopping her journey. “We are here.” And yet the blindfold stays on, the only indication of what’s going on is the sound of a door swishing open and then a little jingle from somewhere in front of her. “All right “ even more gently than he touched her arms, Vision undoes the blindfold, the fabric falling away, “I want you to meet Sparky.”

Sparky is a wiry haired mutt with a little red heart-shaped tag on a collar she can’t see through all its scraggly hair. Currently the dog is wagging its tail and barking from inside of what looks to be a wooden playpen for children, “Um, thanks?” 

“You are not pleased with the surprise?”

The last thing Wanda needs right now is a living thing that’ll just die on her as well. Part of her wonders whether she’s friends with Vision primarily because he’s indestructible (and very sweet, to his credit).  “This is just kind of a big commitment to thrust on someone.”

Vision frowns, a newer facial expression for him, something they’ve been working on for better nonverbal communication. “I see.” Silent contemplation forms deep troughs in his forehead as he walks over to the playpen and picks up Sparky. The dog’s little body squirms with so much pent up excitement that Vision can barely hold him and definitely can’t stop the dog from licking his face. “Thank you, Sparky.”

This is actually really cute to watch. “Seems he likes you.”

“Yes, when I reached out to the shelter about fostering they had me come out and interact with a few candidates and Mr. Sparky here,” who looks absolutely proud of himself for wiggling his way into Vision’s arms, “won me over.”

“You said fostering?”

“I reasoned that with our lifestyle,” fruitlessly Vision tries to get the dog to stop licking his cheek, even going so far as to lower the density of his face, but this just makes the tongue go through him, which doesn’t look appealing based on his grimace, “it would not be advisable to fully adopt, so Sparky will be with us until a family is found. The shelter agreed that being associated with the Avengers would be a boon to his chances at adoption.” Sparky has now moved on to trying for a full on kiss. Maybe the benefits to her mental health will come from watching Vision try to remain professional while being amorously assaulted. “Thank you, Sparky, but,” a crimson hand lightly guides the dog away from his mouth, “I am not amenable to such displays.” Giving up, Vision puts the dog on the ground where it runs joyfully around Vision’s sparsely filled bedroom. “I figured,” though his clothes don’t get rumpled or need fixing, Vision still smooths his navy sweater, “he could stay in my room and, if you are interested, we could devise a schedule of walks and care. Obviously there is no pressure, I can do it on my own as well, since, as you astutely noted, this is a rather large commitment to thrust upon you.”

It’s impossible to say no to the puppy dog eyes she’s getting from both Sparky and Vision. “I guess it could be fun.”

****

As with life, things don’t go as planned. Eight days into their co-parenting (which has actually been a lot of fun), Vision is called away on an impromptu and highly sensitive mission, leaving Wanda on solo dog duty. This means at five in the morning on their first day alone, Wanda gets a wet nose pressed to her face. “We’ll go later.”

The words mean nothing to Sparky, but Wanda refuses to stick to Vision’s early morning schedule. He may be awake and willing to take the dog out at five, but Wanda likes sleep. Sparky does not, jumping onto his hind legs yet again so he can press his little paws against the mattress and reach out with his tongue to wake her up. “Okay.” If there’s one thing she’s learned about watching Sparky and Vision, it’s that once the tongue is out there is no escape. “Okay,” Wanda sits up and Sparky’s tail goes wild. “I will take you outside, that’s it.”

Begrudgingly she tosses on a sweatshirt and walks down the hallway towards the closest doorway outside, beside her Sparky trots happily, rushing outside as soon as the door is open. For her part, Wanda stays in the doorway, arms crossed and waiting for the dog to do his business so they can go back to sleep. Only that’s not really what happens, the second they get inside, Sparky’s fur bounces as he retrieves  his leash from the ankle height ‘going outside table’ Vision set up , carrying it between his teeth while looking up expectantly at Wanda.

“No.” They’ve only had the dog for a week and yet three days into fostering him, Sparky seamlessly melded with Vision’s routine, the two of them far bigger slaves to the clock than Wanda ever has been or will be. Perhaps Vision's absence will give her the chance to teach Sparky about chaos and going with the flow. “We’ll go later, when the sun is actually up.” 

Wanda makes it six steps before the whimpering starts. Turning to face the dog, leash still in its quivering mouth, they stare at each other, Wanda trying to decide if right now is the best time to assert her authority. Sparky lays down, melting into a sad little furry puddle, the leash tinkling as it hits the ground. Seems she has a master emotional blackmailer on her hands  “Fine, just let me get my shoes.” 

They follow Vision’s damn schedule, the entire day, all four walks, all the play times, the meals, the treats, because if they don’t, Sparky pulls out the manipulative whimpering and the forlorn sniffs he gives when she has displeased him. This wasn’t supposed to be the power dynamic. Wanda’s poked fun at Vision for caving so easily to Sparky’s demands and now here she is, doing the same. He hasn’t even let her have time to lay in bed and question her entire life, a staple of her afternoons (and mornings and evenings). It’s been both aggravating but also a bit nice to have the constant interaction, Sparky thoroughly and unconditionally excited about her presence. He also doesn’t judge her for still being unshowered and in the same pajamas as this morning. 

“Want to come up?” Wanda pats the couch. For his part, Sparky seems to be having his first existential crisis. Vision expressly forbids Sparky from being on the furniture, something about not encouraging habits that his future family might not want him to have. While here is Wanda, tempting him. “Come on, I won’t tell him.” Nor does she really give Sparky a choice, lifting him up and putting him on the couch, her hand petting his head in soothing circles. “It’ll be our secret, okay?” Sparky gives in, curling into a ball next to her, his little snout perched on top of her thigh. 

“What do you think, Malcolm in the Middle or Mary Tyler Moore?” An indeterminate sniff is all she gets. “Yeah, Malcolm’s always a solid choice.”

They’re three episodes in when her phone begins to buzz with a video call request. “Hey there.” On the screen is Vision, based on the tell-tale pattern of the quinjet seats behind him, they are either still traveling or their base for the mission is the ship. “How’s it going?”

“Well. We are preparing to infiltrate in the next twenty minutes. How are you doing?” The second Vision speaks, Sparky perks up, climbing onto Wanda’s lap and searching for wherever the voice is coming from. “Hello there, Sparky.” The dog stiffens, floppy ears twitching as he looks everywhere for Vision.

Wanda angles the phone so that it is in front of the dog’s face, “Here he is.” Another cock of the head to the side and immediately Sparky tries to lick the face on the phone, much to Vision’s delighted chuckle. 

“How have you all been doing today?”

“Good. Sparky here loves the routine, I just want to sleep.”

Guilt flashes across Vision’s face, “I did not plan well enough when creating the routine. The intention was never to have the early morning walks be your job.”

“We’re managing.”  Sparky begins whimpering, his desperate attempts to get to Vision failing. “Sort of managing.”

It’s debated amongst their teammates whether Vision has a full range of emotions, Wanda always tells them he does, they just don’t look hard enough for it. Anyone watching this would instantly recognize the heartache on his face and the regret in his voice, “I am so sorry to have thrown off your routine, Sparky.” Another whimper as if to say how dare you and it has the intended effect of yanking Vision’s mouth into a solid frown.  “I am away on a very important mission and will return as soon as it is over.” The last week has allowed Wanda to see a very different side of Vision. It’s not that she’s surprised at how caring he is nor how he wholeheartedly throws himself into the well-being of another (how many nights has he stayed by her side due to nightmares?), but she wasn’t expecting it to be so damn endearing. Even now his voice has a unique tone to it, authoritative but understanding, a father giving a pep talk to his child. “You need to listen to Wanda, she is more than capable of carrying on with my duties as well as her own. I will return, I promise.” Nothing said has meant anything to Sparky, whose little head tilts to the other side, the flimsy hair of his snout shaking as he still tries to figure out how to reach Vision’s face through the phone. “You be an upstanding boy for Wanda, okay?”

Sparky tries to lick the screen again. 

“We’ll be okay,” Wanda offers the best smile she can muster, an unexpected sadness descending at the fact the call seems to be ending. “I can send pictures to keep you updated.”

An appreciative smile graces Vision’s face and the ache only grows, “I will look forward to those.” Off screen there’s talking, Steve telling them all to be ready. “I must go.”

“Thanks for checking in.”

“Of course.” Wanda expects the call to end there, but it doesn’t. “By the way, I am very politely not going to bring up that Sparky is on the couch.”

Wanda mirrors Vision’s smirk, acting as innocent as she can. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Be safe.”

The call ends and Sparky deflates into her lap. “Yeah,” she pets his head as she admits, “I miss him too.” It’s surprising that she actually means it, that the descending sadness isn’t just her usual depression but the clear absence of Vision on the couch for their nightly ritual. When did that happen? She vowed to not get attached to anyone ever again. But she’s now failed twice, running a reassuring hand over Sparky’s head, “At least we have each other.”

****

It is not an easy night. No night has been since Pietro’s death, her sleep peppered with way too realistic nightmares of her parents and Pietro and her futile attempts to save them. Which means, once she startles herself awake, she won’t be sleeping, too afraid of what else she’ll see when she closes her eyes. 

In place of the tea and the company of Vision, Wanda has a ball of wiry fur on her chest and a wet tongue licking at her cheeks the more she cries. “Sorry.” The apology falls on sympathetic ears, Sparky climbing even higher so that he is practically a scarf. “I don’t know how to do this.” The this being life. Being a survivor when everyone she’s loved is gone. Being here when all she wants is to have been allowed to fall with Sokovia. Not that she wants to die but sometimes, like now, she wonders if it would have been easier. Paws press into her chest as Sparky goes all in on licking her face and Wanda actually laughs, a gargled sound eking out between the tears.  “Okay, that’s enough,” she gently holds his snout back, “please.” 

Sparky’s tongue strives to break through her fingers, the little rebel. “Want a treat?” And now he’s bounding off the bed and straight for her desk where she moved the jar of treats. “You’re so easily bought.”

A sleepless night always gives way to a listless day, one where usually she’ll have Vision (why does she keep thinking about him? She hasn’t thought about Sam or Nat or Steve until right this second) there to check in and bring her food or ask if she wants distraction. As if he’s the synthezoid’s secret agent, Sparky fulfills that role, making sure she follows the scheduled walks and feeding times. Even when she’s laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing she could just fade away, he’ll nudge her hand until she grabs the squeaky cupcake from him and tosses it, the padding of his little feet giving her something to focus on instead of the vacuous sorrow she’ll never be without. 

No matter how unenthusiastically she tosses the toy, he comes back, thrilled to pieces when she throws it again. When she finally manages to go into the kitchen to eat, Sparky trots beside her, cupcake still in his mouth.  Wanda makes sure to take a picture to send to Vision, wanting to uphold the promise she made him. 

Sparky even preemptively jumps on the couch when she grabs the remote, ready for whatever she puts on, their own addition to the routine, one that doesn’t have a set time. “You know I’m boring, right?” Apparently not, Sparky cuddling into her side, ready to be pet. “Everyone who gets close to me dies. You don’t deserve that.” He rolls into his back, demanding a belly rub. “You don’t care about that, do you?”  Not with the way his stumpy tail thumps against the couch cushion. “Thanks.”

****

Wanda wakes up to the distinctive sound of Sparky’s paws tapping away on the floor, tiny little barks being shushed by a concerned voice, “Steady, steady, we need to be quiet.”

A subtle warmth fills her chest as Wanda rolls towards the voice, peering over the comforter at Vision bending down to pick up the wriggly dog. “You’re back.”  

Vision whispers, “I am,” as if that’ll make her go back to sleep. “Sorry for waking you, I, Sparky,” it might be a new favorite sight of hers to watch Vision’s face get absolutely lathered in dog kisses, “I need you to have some couth here.”

“He has no shame.”

“Clearly.”  Vision puts the dog back down, deciding that it’s more productive to talk without a tongue trying to dart its way into his mouth. “I apologize. I was trying to get him out for his morning walk so you could sleep.”

Never in her life did Wanda think she’d willingly pass up sleep, but here she is throwing the comforter aside. “Mind if I join you two?”

Vision’s lips curve upwards, not much, but enough to categorize it as a smile. “Not at all.”  

Quietly Vision watches her get shoes and a sweatshirt, the smile remaining on his face the whole time. “What?”

“I, um,” a shake of his head and Vision’s usual neutral expression returns, “I did not believe you particularly enjoyed the schedule.”

“I don’t.” Which is true, there’s literally no reason for such an early morning but it has provided a sense of purpose she’s been missing, something to look forward to each day, and it’s refreshing to know she’s wanted. By more than just the dog, or so Vision’s twisting irises suggest.   “But that’s why Sparky and I have amended it.”

“Have you now?”

Wanda grins up at him, “You’ll see.” 

A similar sense of purpose exists in her ability to make Vision look both concerned and intrigued, something she never realized was so invigorating for her or that she would miss in her daily life. “I will await such discoveries then. For now, shall we?”

Other than the tinkle of Sparky’s heart shaped tag and his pants of anticipation, they don’t say anything more until they’re on the far end of the compound’s ‘backyard’, an understanding that part of the early walk is the peacefulness.  The serenity is broken when Sparky finds a stick, trotting it proudly over to Wanda. “Good find.” As she throws it, Wanda doesn’t miss the little glance from Vision or the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “Change number one.”

“A good change.”

“You might want to settle in, he’s going to do this for awhile.” Taking her lead, Vision joins her on the ground, their knees touching whenever Wanda throws the stick again. “You know,” Wanda does her best to sound nonchalant and not be distracted by the gorgeous way the sunrise shimmers along Vision’s vibranium, “he missed you a lot.” She needs to look away to admit the next bit. “We both did.”

There’s not an instant response, Vision grabbing his phone and handing it to her. “The feeling was mutual.” On the lock screen is a collage of all the pictures Wanda sent, some of them just of Sparky and others with her as well. “Everyone looked forward to the daily updates.” Said like the proud dog dad he has become. “Thank you for them.”

“Of course.” What happens now is undetermined, all Wanda has come to realize is she likes the companionship of both men in her life, despite her firm determination to not want anyone to depend on her or for her to depend on anyone ever again “It wouldn’t be so bad if we did adopt him for good.”

Vision’s head tilts to the side in the closest approximation of a shrug he’ll allow, face unreadable. “That is quite the long-term commitment to thrust upon someone so early in the morning.”

If she wasn’t already becoming an expert in parsing out his subtle vocal tics, Wanda might take it as a refusal, but it’s playful, bordering on flirtatious even. “The mental health benefits are noticeable.”

“That is a strong positive.” This time Sparky leaves the stick at Vision’s feet, his butt shimmying in anticipation of the throw. Vision lobs the stick halfway across the lawn, watching the scraggly fur bounce as the dog pursues it. “It would be pertinent for us to both be in his life, so if we adopted him that is suggesting a continuance of closeness for, I do not know, perhaps upwards of a decade.”

“I think we make a good team.” This is actually a bigger commitment than she thought through, but it’s not actually terrifying…oddly. “It’s just a thought, no reason to decide now.”

Vision throws the stick again, “Perhaps we can discuss logistics and feasibility after I see how you’ve mangled my schedule.”

Not an outright rejection nor a yes, but it’s promising.  “Deal.”

[anonthenullifier]

hi!! saw you were posting recently and i was wondering if you could write something about the avengers having some kind of team-building sports/game day, but wanda and vis are on different teams but help each-other covertly until their team mates start to notice?? just something fluffy+ fun+ team centric, love your writing!!

(bonus points for wanda in a sports outfit for the girlies <3)

Hey! Sure thing! I hope you enjoy it 😊

This is also available on AO3.

****

The jaunty rendition of Take Me Out to the Ballgame serves as a backdrop to a less than jolly team meeting in the locker room. “You,” Tony throws his glove on the bench, finger jabbing towards Vision’s chest, “need to get a handle on yourself.”

Vision glances to the faces of his teammates, Natasha glaring, Rhodes slowly shaking his head, T’Challa looking regal in his disappointment, and Peter is off in the corner, unbothered and talking to the younger recruits of the Avengers. “I am not certain what you mean.”

Denial probably wasn’t the best course, Tony’s finger now actually pushing into Vision’s chest between two of the buttons of his Team Iron Man jersey. “We have video evidence.”

“Of what?”

“Collusion.” Natasha says it as if it’s the same as a war crime committed by one of their more nefarious foes. “Fraternizing and scheming with the enemy.”

Tony snaps, Peter immediately backflipping from the bench and passing his phone to the billionaire. “Here you go, Mr. Stark.” 

“Thank you, my new favorite adopted, but not legally, son.” 

“Sweet!” Peter swings back to the bench. 

During that whole emotionally manipulative exchange Tony doesn’t break eye contact with Vision. “No collusion huh?” The eye contact intensifies as Tony holds up the phone. “Then what’s this?”

On the screen plays a video of one of Wanda’s more impressive hits of the day, a fly ball out to deep center field. Vision rises into the air but fails to catch the ball, granting her a triple.  “I missed a catch.” Of all the things he’s done in this game, this is one of the more subtle and easily defensible, so if it is all they have, things are not so dire. “I do apologize but it was not the only error from our team.”

“Right.”  Tony pinches his fingers and then pulls them across the screen, zooming in and replaying the video, this time the only thing they can see is Vision’s glove and the way the ball manages to go right through the middle of it. “And I suppose your glove just happened to phase?”

Sometimes the ever improving technology of phones is a true bane to society. Yes, Vision is aware of the irony given the advanced piece of technology that is his entire being. Still, it is perturbing. “It must have been my nerves. I do tend to fluctuate in density when uncertain.” It’s years of living amongst humans that even allows Vision to sound so nonchalant right now while his mind is whirring with anxiety as their, what he thought was carefully crafted, plan falls apart all thanks to a damn phone. “I will not allow such a mistake to occur again.”

Tony doesn’t thank him, instead he swipes to the next video. “And the convenient overthrowing to first when Wanda’s running towards it?”

That happened once and then Vision mentally told Wanda they had to find more subtle ways to collude. “We all make mistakes. That was the only time I overthrew.”

Another swipe. “Or when Rhodes had this incredible throw to second as Wanda was stealing and you managed to not touch her in time.” 

“I miscalculated.”

“Oh I think you calculated perfectly.” Vision had, it took concerted effort to just barely miss Wanda’s hip.

What is frustrating about this interrogation is not that they caught him numerous times, but that they failed to catch all the times Wanda aided him. Vision can’t say that without damning either of them. “What of the times I made mistakes for others? You seem to only focus on my flaws around Wanda.”

Natasha pulls out her phone now, the eye black Tony made them all put on their cheeks bending as she frowns, “Except you haven’t had a single error other than when Wanda is involved.” 

“I doubt that.” Natasha hands over the stats and Vision seems to lack the finesse of a villain, unable to even make mistakes when needed to hide the true crime. “I see.” The phone goes back to Natasha and Vision is left floundering, unsure how to proceed. “We do have a constant mental connection so it is possible that perhaps she was able to unintentionally glean some strategic infor—“

Natasha folds her arms across her chest. “What is she offering you?”

“I do not comprehend.”

“Is she threatening you?” Tony turns from interrogator to slightly (but not really) concerned father figure. “Is she withholding sex unless you help her? Blink once if you need help.”

Now it’s getting ridiculous. “We just like to help each other.” And just like that he confesses. Natasha grins and Vision figures there is no use in dancing around the truth now. “Wanda was worried about today and embarrassing herself in front of the crowd and the 90 countries streaming this game. She’s not terribly interested in sports.” This doesn’t go over well, or so their faces say. There needs to be an upside, so Vision offers a quantifiable fact, “We’re still winning.”

Tony’s, “By one!” doesn’t sound appreciative of Vision not going hog wild with his betrayal.  

“I told you not to put them on opposite teams.” Rhodes refocuses the blame on Tony, their team captain. “But you didn’t listen. Every game night since they joined the team has gone this way. No one here should be surprised.”

The attempt to redirect the conversation doesn’t work, Tony sending it right back to Vision. “Surprised, no. Disappointed, you better believe it. For a self-proclaimed man of logic, Vision here can’t seem to think with his big brain instead of his small one.”

“Um guys,” Peter’s grinning nervously as he nudges back into the inner circle, “we gotta go back on the field.” 

“Come on, everyone,” though Tony is the team captain by title, Natasha is the actual commander, “let’s get warmed up for the rest.”

As the team exits, Tony waves Vision close enough to wrap his arm around his shoulders, whispering, “You do anything else to help her today and I will write you out of the will.”

“Understood.” Though Pepper would never let such a thing happen. He thinks.

****

With how scrutinizing his teammates are after the revelation of his betrayal, Vision can’t risk any sign of favor, not even a glance. It is almost physically painful to ignore Wanda, but Vision does his best. This includes not smiling when she covertly waves at him and not following her with his eyes during the very slow, purposeful strut past him on her way to left field, the stripes of the baseball uniform more than flattering on her. Thankfully there are no situations that come up where they must intersect, physically or in their plays. 

All he has left is half an inning and the torture of his penance will be over. 

Vision is in the process of putting on the catching gear when Wanda, sounding aggravated, finally reaches out through their mental link. What’s wrong?

They found me out. 

How?

Vision doesn’t look up, not wanting to accidentally (or purposefully) see Wanda lest it give away they are talking. They have it on video. He should leave it there, but that’s pointless when Wanda can likely see the rest anyway. And I may have eventually confessed. 

For someone who aces Nat’s prisoner of war training, you cave really easily to peer pressure. 

I am aware. 

“Vision, you ready?” Rhodes is their pitcher for the final inning, each position has been switched out throughout the game in an attempt to be fair and he called the final pitching rotation, but only if Vision was his catcher. They’ve even been practicing during their downtime because Rhodes wants to impress and Vision has no intention of letting him down. 

“Yes.”  

“No funny business, okay?” 

“Of course.” All Vision wants is for the bottom of the ninth inning to be uneventful and then he can go back to not having his teammates glaring and questioning his every movement and breath. 

Except the first batter is none other than Wanda, the pinstripe patriotic jersey of Team Cap hugging her every tantalizing curve . “Hey there.”

Part of the charity game is to really play up the team rivalries and relationships, hence why Vision does stand up to greet her, now that all the cameras are on them. “Hello, my love.” He slides the catcher’s mask up enough to give her a slight peck, to the crowd’s absolute delight. Julio, the over enthusiastic announcer informs the entire stadium (and 90 nations broadcasting the game), “That’s enough, lovebirds. Save the rest of the bases for the after party.” To which Wanda playfully shoves Vision aside with the tip of her bat (to the cheers, and some jeers, from the crowd) before taking her spot at the plate. 

Please do not read my mind during this.

Fine. Don’t get distracted by the view. Emphasized by a little shimmy that looks to anyone else as if she’s readjusting her batting stance.

That is going to be nigh impossible, but I will do my best. 

Thankfully Wanda ends up getting walked and then the next two batters (Scott and Sam) strike out. Rhodes makes sure to hold up his glove and declare for the entire team, “One more and we got this!”

The issue is that Steve is up to bat and has a penchant for hitting home runs. Sure enough, the first pitch and the crack of the bat sends the ball hurtling towards left field where T’Challa and Peter race to get it. Vision stands, throwing the catching mask from his face, eyes alternating between where Peter finally fields the ball against the back barrier of the outfield and Wanda, rounding third base with a look of utter determination on her face. 

“Vision!” Natasha throws the ball and Vision has to fly a couple inches up to catch it. A second “Vision!” urges him to ratchet up his density and brace for impact with Wanda. 

They tumble to the ground, his arm thudding into the dirt. It’s not on purpose, not even close, but his soul leaves his body at the same rate as he watches the ball slipping out of the top of his normal density mitt. 

This might actually lead him to be dropped from the will and it’s not even on purpose. 

Contrary to what he knows is true, the umpire shouts. “Yer out!” 

There’s indistinguishable cheering from around him, no doubt the crowd and his team but Vision doesn’t pay it any mind, sitting up and being utterly confused when he opens his glove to find the ball sitting right in the pocket. “But…”

“You’re welcome.” Wanda smirks up at him from where she lays on the ground, catching her breath. 

“You?”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

Vision takes off his glove, tossing it over his shoulder, before crawling to Wanda, his hands on either side of her head, holding him steady as he bends to kiss her soundly. “Thank you.”

“You can get to third base later!”  Tony grabs the back of Vision’s jersey, yanking him up. “Right now we celebrate!”

“Is all forgiven?”

Tony shrugs, “Not everything but you can go back to being my favorite. Just don’t tell Peter.”

“Tell Peter what?”

Tony winks at Vision as he declares to the other honorary Stark, “That you’re my favorite.”

“Good game,” Wanda threads her arm around Vision’s waist, pulling their hips snug together. 

“You as well.” Despite the overall jovial mood before them, Clint and Sam whisper, pointing at Wanda as they motion catching a ball and ramming into someone. “Though you may have stirred suspicions.”

Wanda slides a hand into the back pocket of Vision’s pants, unconcerned, “They all know what happens when we’re on opposite teams, not like they have room to be upset.”

[anonthenullifier]

I'd love for you to write something where Vision is kidnapped and could get out but just wants to be the damsel in distress and be rescued.

(i have a picture in my mind where the kidnappers call wanda for like a ransom or something and then shes just like sweetie wtf its too early in the morning for this and vision is like but I like seeing you being badass *puppy dog eyes*)

I haven’t been active on this site in forever, but I do enjoy this prompt and needed a break from all the angst I’ve been writing lately. Thanks for sending it, hope you enjoy! You can also find this on AO3 in my Brevity of Love series.

————-

A rrrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr comes from the night stand. Half-asleep and desiring to be fully asleep again, Wanda fumbles around until she can silence the vibrating phone. Victorious, she rolls onto her other side and drifts back to sleep. 

Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Wanda closes her eyes tighter, trying to ignore it. Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Option 2 then, “Vizh…” Usually, especially if she asks, her insomniac husband will at least turn the phone off or take it with him when it’s being this offensive. Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Groaning loud enough she knows he can hear her annoyance, Wanda flops back over to grab the phone and answer with a fed up, “What?”

On the other end is a voice that sounds like it’s either using a modulator or is going through a tunnel. “We have your husband and if you don’t bring five million to—“

“Ha. Ha.” Wanda hangs up and shoves the phone deep beneath her pillow to muffle any other pranksters. “Vizh,” she scootches over, tossing her arm wildly to the side where it should land somewhere on his chest. It hits the mattress. He’s probably watching tv in the living room, hence why he didn’t hear her phone or her. Wanda supposes that’s acceptable. 

Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Wanda rolls all the way to Vision’s very cold side and wraps his pillow around her head. Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. “Come on.” A furious cloud of scarlet retrieves the phone. “What the hell do you want?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” so the off-brand Darth Vader sounding pranksters actually have her unregistered personal number, great, she’ll have to ask Avenger’s IT people to fix that, “we have The Vision,” not a good start for them to use the emphasized The, “and if you do not bring ten million—“

“You said five last time.”

An impatient huff crackles through the phone. “Your disrespect increased it. Every hour you don’t bring the money to the coordinates we send you, it will go up by five million.”

“Sure.” 

The supposed kidnapper doesn’t appreciate her flippant tone. “Fifteen million now. Bring it or find out what it’s like to be a widow, and not the cool spy kind.”

The call ends and a text message from a private number sends coordinates and fifteen dollar signs. “Vision?” Wanda calls out for him as she sits up, feet searching out the slippers he usually straightens out for her after she’s gone to sleep because he can’t stand the fact she just kicks them off when she gets in bed. But she fell asleep before his patrol was done and one slipper is upside down while the other is on its side. A slightly more concerned and louder  “Vizh?” should reach him if he’s in another room. Nothing. Grabbing her robe, Wanda journeys into their living room. No lights are on, nothing has been touched since she went to bed. Odd. Too odd for her groggy brain to figure out at, she squints at their industrial wall clock, 5:15 a.m., gross. 

Coffee will help, it always does. 

Cup brewed and in hand, Wanda decides to do the logical action, she calls her husband. It rings five times before a newly familiar voice answers. “Time is ticking, Wanda. Bring us the money.”

A sip doesn’t provide the amount of caffeine she needs, but IV transfusions aren’t possible, she thinks. There’s a protocol for this, Vision wrote it himself, it has subsections and everything based on the relation you have to the kidnapped person. Despite him insisting, she doesn’t actually memorize every protocol, she has him for that. Okay then, what would Vision do? Ask for proof. “How am I supposed to believe you?”

Through the phone a sheepish, apologetic, “Hello, my love,” comes through. Dammit. 

“See we have him,” and back to Dollar Store Darth Vader. “Bring us the money.”

Another sip of coffee and she still doesn’t feel convinced this isn’t some elaborate prank where they got a recording of him from some charity event or paparazzi video. “I want to FaceTime with him, make sure he’s not harmed.”

The call abruptly ends, Wanda glaring at the screen, trying to will it to light back up. Or maybe not, if they don’t call back it means it really is a joke.  It has to be, Vision is usually pretty careful and also very skilled at escaping pretty much any situation. Or not, her screen alighting with a video call that she answers only after patting her hair down in case she’s sporting bed head. “Hello?”

There Vision is, on the screen, gagged and tied  to a chair with two military-ish looking men to either side. Not real military, the type of person who shops at the military clothing store because they like to think they are the self-proclaimed army of humans or some shit or like to get the thank you for your service praise without the actual service. The type that would be stupid enough to kidnap an all powerful synthezoid married to an all powerful witch. The type that would use regular rope to tie up said synthezoid to a very normal looking folding metal chair. Something’s not quite right here.

Immediately she switches to Sokovian, “Are your powers inhibited?”

Faux military man one demands she, “Speak English,” which lets her know they won’t understand anything she says if she keeps with her plan, though it could backfire if they do have a means of hurting Vision and will do so if she doesn’t comply. 

“Okay.” Compliance is sometimes the right path. “Have they hurt you?” Vision shakes his head. Twice. Answering both questions like the good captive he is. It’s no doubt in the protocol for being kidnapped, though so is escaping if you are able to and he’s still there. Which means there has to be something she’s missing. She’s established his powers are in-tact, they haven’t hurt him, what else might she need? “Can they hurt you?”

A gruff, “Of course we can,” comes from behind the screen which is contradicted by Vision’s very subtle shake of his head. “Bring us the money or else we kill him and sell him for parts.” 

The call ends and Wanda takes a long sip of coffee. Before that last bit she was at least going to be civil in kicking their asses, but now they’ve crossed a line. Wanda texts back the private  number. I’m bringing the money. Please just don’t hurt him. Best let them think she’s bought into their plan, it’ll make it more enjoyable to dominate them and save her husband. Before that can happen, she should change out of pajamas.  ———

Wanda is ninety-nine percent certain she is supposed to bring back-up to a potential hostage situation, but she isn't because she is also ninety-nine percent sure Vision is fully capable of helping her but is, for whatever reason, playing the victim here, or so she decided after finishing her cup of coffee. So far her intel backs that up, the coordinates leading her to what seems like an old hunting cabin in the Catskills. There’s no one stationed outside, no booby traps or noticeable automatic weapons set up, and inside there are four minds, one, thankfully, is a very alive and relatively calm Vision, and the other three must be the two in the call and the one making the call. Easy enough. 

I have your money. She has a duffel bag filled with towels and some canned soup for heft. There’s no way someone would have fifteen million in it, according to a quick google search she’d be lucky to fit 2.5 million in here, though someone on a random forum mentioned that if she used a military sized bag and said she had euros instead it could be more convincing, still not anywhere close to enough. Not that it matters, they were never getting any money. 

Instead of texting her back, the private number calls her, voice still distorted. “You can leave the money at the door.” Because everyone knows doing that would lead to them actually releasing Vision. She’s been in enough of these situations during missions (most often with Vision on her side and not the captive) to know better. 

“I want to see him with my own eyes.” Acting isn’t a strong suit of Wanda’s, at least Nat always says she’s never convincing in true undercover work, but she tries to sound distraught and weak, “I need to know he’s okay, please.”

Muffled whispers of an argument come through the phone, giving way to a, “Fine,” and then the door to the cabin opening. They’re either planning something or absolute idiots. Wanda assumes the latter. 

“Thank you,” she says while stepping out of the tree line, duffel bag in one hand and phone held high in the other in the universal signal that she means no harm, even though she does. 

The man that comes out of the door is dressed just like the two she saw on the video call, head-to-toe camo, a mask that covers his mouth, and an unnecessarily large gun that requires two hands to use that he idiotically points at her. “That don’t look like enough money.” His voice is very different without the modulator. Scared, as he should be. 

“This is just two million, the rest is in the woods. You’ll get it once I’ve made sure he’s unharmed.” 

“Open it.” This she did plan for. Yes it’s a bunch of towels and canned soup, but as she places it on the ground and he steps closer, gun still raised, she sends a wisp of scarlet into his mind, one that tells him that what he sees are stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills. “You’re a smart girl.”

He’s not wrong, but the patronizing way he says it feels gross, like she’s some docile little lamb following his directive. Wanda has to remind herself that before she attacks she has to at least connect with Vision and see what exactly is going on. “Can I see him?”

“Zip it?” The bag, or so the tip of his gun indicates. Wanda does. “Good girl. Pick it up.” Wanda inhales to keep from entering his mind now and torturing him with his worst fears and failures, and then picks it up. “Let’s go.” The muzzle of his gun presses between her shoulder blades as he ushers her inside. 

“Vision!” The spoken version is that of the terrified but relieved wife. The Vision she sends into his mind is pointedly irked. It is way too damn early for this shit. You better have a really good reason. 

Wanda, darling. The gag hides the boyish charm he tries to smile with, knowing it’s a key weapon against her. I did ask them to wait until after 11 a.m. so as not to disturb you. 

“See, unharmed.” The gun pushes harder between her shoulder blades. “Now tell us where the rest is.”

Wanda glares at her husband. Who are these people?

Members of a domestic terrorism cell Captain Wilson and I have been investigating. 

“Lady, tell us where it is or else you’ll regret it.”

They are also proponents of deeply misogynistic and antisemitic values. I thought you might get immense pleasure taking them down. 

Wanda smirks at the wink Vision sends her. Don’t lie, you also like being the damsel.

Even while tied up and gagged, his tiny shrug is utterly adorable. Only when you are my rescuer. 

“I said,” each word is emphasized by the thrust of a gun to her back, “where’s the rest of the money, bitch?”

The Mindstone begins to glow, Don’t.  It dims, but not fully. You get everything you needed? Vision nods. Good. With an innocent smile Wanda asks, “What money?” 

A new sort of intensity takes over the room, a less confident one,, the main kidnapper ordering the others to, “Check the bag.”

They do, and the sound of their perplexed, “It’s just towels and…and…chicken soup?” is so satisfying. 

“No, I checked it myself.” It’s the second the gun leaves her back and their attention is solely on the duffel bag that Wanda begins to build her powers, scarlet pooling and undulating around her hands, “What did you—,” The gun rises up towards her chest, his finger on the trigger, “Don’t you—“ A crimson hand grabs the gun, Vision bending the barrel without any sign of trouble. 

Wanda glares at her husband. “Get back in that chair, I’m rescuing you.”

“My apologies, force of habit,” on his way back into captivity, he does stop long enough kiss the top of her head. His “Please proceed,” mumbled through the gag he put back in place. 

“Thank you, now,” Wanda wraps her powers around her entire body as she rises up, making sure her eyes are glowing as well for the full effect and then swings back to the kidnappers. They’ve gone and ruined her entire plan and zapped all enjoyment out of it, the two helpers crying on the floor and the main man is just staring despondently at the can of split pea soup rocking back and forth on its side. No matter how horrible they are, she isn’t going to kick them, figuratively or literally, while they’re already defeated. With an exasperated sigh, Wanda returns to the ground, scarlet receding back into her body. “Vizh, can you help me tie them up?”

“Of course.”  

Together they loosely bind the men and move all the weapons into a pile out of reach. Vision calls Sam and S.H.I.E.L.D. who claim they will be there momentarily to take the men into custody. “Okay, what were you doing here?”

“Oh,” Vision stands next to her, hands clasped behind his back, “Sam and I have been attempting to locate the main leader of this group, so when these men,” who won’t look at them, “found me in their field office, I figured allowing them to kidnap me would not only allow let me learn more about their organization’s structure but also have a very clear crime attached that would allow us to officially interpose their plans.”

Which answers one interpretation of her question, but not the one she meant. “But why bring me?”

“Because, my darling wife, watching you be a verifiable bad ass,” a little thrill runs down her spine anytime he cusses, especially right now with the growl he adds, “is always an absolute pleasure.”

He’s so good at softening her annoyance because now she’s not even upset at the fact she’s been up since five. “Sorry to disappoint you then.”

“Pardon?” Vision snakes his arm around her waist, tugging her so they are facing each other, his eyes filled with adoration. “Your powers are not the only way to define being a bad ass here, Mrs. Maximoff,” he always whispers the Mrs. like a sultry secret between them despite the fact everyone knows they’re married. “Today you showed it through your bravery, compassion, and wit with those soup cans. I am thoroughly impressed.”

“Well, Mr. Maximoff,” and she always says it loudly, proclaiming it to the world so everyone knows, especially him, how happy she is to call him that, “the next time you want to be a damsel, just tie yourself to one of our chairs and,” Wanda traces the vibranium clasp of his cape,”we can figure out the rest.”

Vision laughs, pulling her snug against his chest, leaning down to hover his lips above hers, “Noted.”

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I don’t know if you take prompts anymore or if you already did something similar already, but it would be so fun to read Vision teaching Wanda how to drive. You would expect Wanda to be the nervous one, but it’s actually Vision who’s doing all the panicking. He’s always telling Wanda to look straight ahead but to also double check her mirrors for any cars. And he goes on about the probabilities of spiraling out of control and crashing as a way to help but it really doesn’t. It makes things worse 😂

This is such a fun prompt, thanks! Also, sincerely apologize for taking so long to write it. I hope you enjoy! —

“Absolutely not.”

The corners of Vision’s mouth droop, “Wanda, it is a necessary precaution.”

Usually she’ll compromise or just give in to his need for risk aversion, but this crosses a line she wasn't aware she had until right now. “Either take it off or we’re not doing this.”

“From my research it appears to be a common practice.”

Wanda has to steel herself against the seriousness of his tone and the cute little wave of his hands that usually lead to her caving. “Take it off.”

And now the exhale that’s not quite a sigh because he claims he doesn't sigh, even though he does, followed by the imploring, “Wanda.” She follows both his eyes and outstretched arm to the offensive object, a neon yellow triangle on top of the car that declares STUDENT DRIVER. “It is the truth.”

“It’s a target.”

Wrong angle, stubbornness settling into the ridges of his face, “No, it is an explanation.”

His angle is worse. “Explanation for what?”

Read the rest on AO3

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Callout post just for me on this beautiful monday morning

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I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

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I made this drawing still using the idea of my last art, but with the most perfected line.

about the clothes, I used this art (of this post) as inspiration, but I changed some things. anyway all credits for the look to @arrapso amazing artist.

★ ig ★

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Every morning… the same… nightmare… (insp)

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Scarlet Witch/ Hellfire Gala by Russell Dauterman

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Copy the first few lines of your last ten fics, note any fun observations, then tag a few more friends.

Thanks @rachelillustrates! This was a lot of fun! I didn’t know if I should do full fics or chapters from fics as well, so if it is a short story, then I did that, if it was a chapter from a fic, I put in the first line of the entire fic. 

1. The Maximoff Shimmy (Ch. 21 of Snapshots)

“What’s that little smile for?” If Wanda had asked anyone else the question, she’d assume the lack of response was due to her words being overtaken and muted by the pounding music from the speakers off to the right, except she knows her husband’s impeccable hearing and the fact she sent it into his mind as well. “Vizh?”

The little smile transforms into a sheepish shrug, “Just reminiscing.”

It’s not a brooding reminiscing, Vision’s voice far too upbeat and almost dreamy for that. “About…”

2. A Sentry in Solitude

There is a rock jutting out of the wall, situated just perfectly between the vibranium plates of his neck so that it digs into his synthetic flesh. The discomfort provides a point of focus beyond the suffocating silence of the others sitting around in various states of pain, defiance, or trauma-induced dissociative numbness. If he leans back a hair more it almost, but not quite, blots out the heated, whispered conversation occurring at the end of the cavernous, partially underground room they’re in.

“Wanda you don’t have to do this.” Captain Wilson has been against the idea from the onset of its conceptualization. “We can find another way.”

3. Survival Skills (Ch. 27 of Brevity of Love)

“It’s really coming down.”

In the short time Vision has been alive, stating the obvious appears to be a decidingly human trait, one that he has also learned should not be pointed out as such, so he simply agrees, “Yes it is,” and adds another obvious observance, “visibility is reported to be less than 6 inches.” 

4. Recursive Tendencies

Want to see something that’ll cheer you up?

Wanda stares at the cryptic text from her roommate, wary at what might be sent her way. Sure.

5. Protect at All Costs (Chapter 26 of Brevity of Love)

It wasn’t a hard hit or even a skilled one, there’s probably not even a bruise to add legitimacy to the attack, and yet Wanda stays on the ground for a few seconds just to collect herself.

“You have to watch your back.” The admonishment crackles through the comms, something Natasha chides her about constantly during training and today Steve has taken over the helm since Natasha isn’t on this mission. “Get back in the fight.”

Wanda’s, “Yes, Captain,” is more sardonic than needed, but she doesn’t care as her palms press into the ground, wincing at the gravel and shards of glass digging into her skin at the reminder of her failure.

6. Post Hoc

This room, just like all other rooms, is predictable. What at first appears a hodgepodge of chattering people quickly dissolves into order. Clusters of academics dot the rows of pleather chairs, each department banning together to save seats and gossip about who just got turned down by that one reviewer again or why Mathematics is currently not speaking with Chemistry. This in-group favoritism does not stop here, however, these smaller groupings branching into larger ones, the right side of the room, closest to the doors, are the physical scientists, and then there is an almost straight line of empty seats going from the front of the room to the back, cross over it and you reach the social scientists, similarly grouped by department, similarly chatting about successes and failures in attaining funding and how the tepid fifteen year feud between criminology and political science just heated back up with a passive aggressive email. 

7. The Necessity of Invention (Chapter 25 of Brevity of Love)

The salary of a hopeful inventor does not allow Victor to sit any closer than the fourth tier, back row, left side where his view is partially obstructed by the crystalline chandelier hanging from the dome of Wade’s Opera House. This is inconsequential, however, the acoustics are designed so well that he can hear, with stunning and invigorating clarity, the voice of the angel on stage.

8. An Examination of Loss (Chapter 20 of Snapshots)

Tommy stumbles down the hall, sleep still clinging to his eyes despite the constant rubbing of his fingers. Whoever invented alarm clocks and early morning classes should get married and then perish in a plane crash on the way to their honeymoon. Or at least stub their toe every time they walk past a table...and their house is a table factory. 

9. Accurate Results (Chapter 24 of Brevity of Love)

Wanda knows it’s a boring afternoon when she finds herself in the quiz section of Buzzfeed. So far she’s established that she’ll be married by 22 (a marriage she apparently wasn’t aware of), her soulmate’s name starts with J, she’s an oatmeal raisin cookie, and that she’ll one day own ten llamas.

10. Nailed It! (Chapter 23 of Brevity of Love)

The premise of Nailed It always bothered him. The entirety of the show meant to be a time capsule of schadenfruede. From crumbling cakes to hideously misshapen cookies, melting frosting, and atrocious textures and tastes; the point was to laugh, to relish the misery of true amateurs. Not the amateurs who know of soufflés, croquembouches, and the difference between an amuse-bouche and a mignardise, but the ones for whom measuring and recipe following is an alien language. Only Wanda’s unencumbered glee at the misfortune of the bakers helped him understand the appeal.

As for fun observations - something I’ve always struggled with was making sure characters had their own voices, so I enjoyed seeing a variety of openings from different characters and noting how they all were different  enough from each other. Though I do, and I knew this well before this exercise, have an issue with lots and lots of commas and long ass sentences. I also realized how much fun I have writing from Tommy’s perspective and trying to come up with ridiculous and spiteful (but not truly mean) thoughts. I forgot about the table factory curse haha. 

As for people to tag, honestly anyone who wants to do it should consider themselves tagged, but a few people might be @artemisegeria, @themoonlitsojourner, @my-name-stitch, @greyisbetterthangray, @her-storybooks

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- I just feel you -

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A piece I made after watching the Wandavision finale 🥺 Please just give our girl some happiness.

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Madness

Artwork by Marveldsign

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it’s sooo sad when u see all these research papers by the same 2 ppl and then u see 1 where only one of them is credited… where’s ur little buddy don’t tell me u broke up </3

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“What’s that little smile for?” If Wanda had asked anyone else the question, she’d assume the lack of response was due to her words being overtaken and muted by the pounding music from the speakers off to the right, except she knows her husband’s impeccable hearing and the fact she sent it into his mind as well. “Vizh?”

The little smile transforms into a sheepish shrug, “Just reminiscing.”

It’s not a brooding reminiscing, Vision’s voice far too upbeat and almost dreamy for that. “About…”

Now the little smile is back, the corners of his lips peeking up at her pointed look. “Do you recall when the boys first figured out how to dance?”

Even if it was years and years and years ago, in her mind it is so very clear. “How could I forget the,” Wanda lifts her arms, elbows still bent, and waves her hands haphazardly around, “Maximoff shimmy?”

“That’s far too fluid, my dear, it was more like,” Vision keeps his elbows tucked into his sides, fingers pointed towards the ceiling, and wobbles his shoulders back and forth in an uncharacteristically unrefined movement. “You have to keep the wrists a little loose and allow the shoulders to do the work.” He demonstrates it again, hands shimmying from side to side, his smile almost as radiant as the light from the DJ booth reflecting along his wedding ring and the vibranium on his head.

Wanda mimics it, snickering along with her husband at how ridiculous and not adorable it is for them to do it. ”Remember how I used to call your phone just to make them dance?”

“I do. You got angry at me for answering too quickly and then didn’t appreciate it when I suggested simply turning on music instead.”

For a good reason, if she recalls correctly. “That’s because Tommy loved your ringtone. The second it started he’d just,” she does another Maximoff Shimmy, chuckling when Vision instantly follows, adding in Billy’s signature head bob with it. “And look at them now.”

“Look at them.” They do, eyes traveling towards the dance floor, Tommy dancing literal circles around his brother and brand new brother-in-law, Billy and Teddy exchanging their I Do s only two hours ago. “How did they get so big?”

“I don’t know.” The logical answer is that over two decades have passed, that each year their boys grew into even more amazing and awe-inspiring individuals. “It seemed like time barely moved while we were battling them on nap time and potty training and then—“

“They’re not little anymore.” Not at all. They’ve navigated so much more than dancing and nap times and diapers. Junior high was a beast, almost as much as first loves and heartaches, or the moody years when Tommy pushed every last button of Billy’s until he got a response, and Billy sent one too many of Tommy’s belongings into alternate dimensions. All of it felt so difficult at the time and now is only a blip in their memories. “They’re remarkable men now.”

Wanda grabs her husband’s hand, knowing all too well the bittersweet ache clinging to the words. “They’ll always be our boys.”

“Yes, they will,” Vision lifts their joined hands, laying a gentle kiss to the tips of her fingers.

A blur of blue whips around the table, sending the white tablecloth dancing and the half empty champagne flutes clinking. “Oh god,” Tommy frowns as he glances at their entwined hands and then at the specks of tears Vision is admirably holding back, “are you two being all sentimental over here?

Wanda confirms it. “We are.”

“Gross.” It’s Tommy’s unique way of acknowledging their emotions, one done without actual disdain.

“We were just talking about when you and Billy learned to dance.”

Vision's explanation seems to pique their son’s curiosity just enough for a casual, “Oh yeah?”

“We called it the Maximoff Shimmy,” as Wanda says it, Vision enacts the signature move. “You two were so cute doing it.”

“Dad please….” Tommy snaps his mouth shut before peering over his shoulder at the sweet embrace of Billy and Teddy slow dancing, “explain why you’re hiding such sweet moves over here. Come on.”

He runs off without waiting for any agreement from them, a typical behavior, Tommy always racing far ahead of his thoughts. “What do you think, Vizh?”

The most likely response will be his denial, particularly because Tommy’s intentions aren’t innocent. “I do not see why we should not partake of the whole celebration.” Vision stands, fingers straightening out his perfectly fitted tuxedo jacket before reaching out to her, “shall we?”

Wanda takes his hand, curious to see where this leads, and together they walk out to the floor where they’re met by Tommy’s mischievous grin. “Dad, show Billy your moves.”

The boys aren’t the only ones who have changed, decades ago she’d never expect Vision to so willingly follow the command, a man who believed in dancing in public only if there were set rules and set steps, too shy and embarrassed by improvisational dancing for anyone other than her to see it.  “It goes like this.” And now here he is, her husband, a wonderful father, and still a questionable dancer, the Maximoff Shimmy not the image of smoothness, especially with the full enthusiasm he puts behind the waving of his hands. Somehow he’s just as sexy and enthralling he’s ever been. And yet he insists Billy’s witchcraft was inherited from her alone.  “As you see, it is rather simple.”

“Wow Dad,” Billy’s grinning despite the disbelief on his face, “I now know where Tommy got his moves.”

“Hey! At least I have moves.”

“Then why have I won more of our dance-offs?” No matter how old they get, certain things won’t ever change.

“Am I doing it right?” Teddy, bless his heart, locks his elbows in and waves his hands around in a very good first try.

Wanda smiles at him, sincere with her, “You’re a natural Maximoff, Teddy.”

“Yes!” Her son-in-law celebrates with a fist pump and an enthusiastic kiss to Billy’s cheek, setting in motion the rest of their evening. “We gotta teach everyone.”

Years later, when they think back on this night and reminisce about the wedding and the expansion of their family, maybe while watching their own grandchildren (fingers crossed), they’ll all laugh about it—the Maximoffs all together, joined by the Altmans and all their friends and teammates, dancing like toddlers and enjoying every last second of it.