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anonthenullifier · 7 years

Text

A New Beginning

Title: A New Beginning

For: @scarletheartvision

Rating: T

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12115029

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: None

Summary: After a horrific experience, Wanda and Vision slowly re-enter into a tentative friendship. As they get to know each other once again, they discover that perhaps, despite all the odds, it might just be possible to start a new beginning together.

Message for scarletheartvision: As someone who is not well-versed in current comics, this prompt was a doozy, fun, but difficult (especially having to write it in a week as a pinch hitter!). I hope this fulfills everything you were hoping for with the prompt!

Prompt: A fanfic where Vision and Wanda decided to try again. With Viv, Wiccan and Speed in the story. (Comics)

Other Notes: A big thank you to @androidavenger for letting me ask questions about Viv! And to my beta, @atendrilofscarlet, I appreciate your feedback so much!

Made for the @scarletvisionexchange2017

Returning to the Avengers was not particularly easy this time around (not that it ever is, really). The animus from his descent into fealty, the disbelief at the way he prioritized his own family over the makeshift one that is the Avengers, was already a stifling, unspoken disappointment in the air that often led to uncomfortable prickles dancing along his spine. Though, to be fair, not nearly as uncomfortable as the crushing realization (re-realization is more appropriate here despite the fact the term does not exist) that no one seemed to take into consideration his thoughts, opinions, or emotions before they acted. This, however, assumes his teammates recognize his opinions and emotions as real.

Vision releases a sigh as he leans back against the wall, eyes closing, a physical manifestation of the way he cuts off the train of thought, not wanting to dip further into the unfathomable depths of his emotions (yes, he has to convince himself of this, his emotions are real). No, the reason this time is so uncomfortable is because no one knows how to handle acknowledging being corrupted by a virus, what to say to someone whose body has been used against its will for decidedly un-heroic and horrific deeds. They all tiptoe, flash semi-friendly smiles before whispering behind backs, voices stopping when Vision takes one step closer, dispersing completely if he dares to take another step.

All except one. A flash of red passes the door to the locker room for the fifteenth time since he took up his post-mission vigil of self-reflection. It will be exactly four minutes, thirty-seven seconds, and ten milliseconds before she completes the circuit, head turning fifteen degrees to the right for a quick glance before her feet continue with the built up momentum of her body. Vision cannot determine if he should say something, acknowledge her presence, or if he should remain, head flush against the cold metal of a locker and his fingers playing with the end of his cape. The third, more tempting option, is to simply phase away, fly home before Viv begins to worry, yet he cannot seem to commit to such an evasive action, body anticipating her return to the doorway with a diluted, anxious curiosity.

It takes three more passes before her steps slow, body framed by the door, one hand braced against the wooden frame and the other bunched into a fist at her hip. There is a flicker of scarlet that moves through her eyes as her mouth tilts just enough to the left to portray what one might call an easy smile, though he can tell it is strained, uncertain, uncharacteristic of the confidence she usually exudes. “Hey.”

“Hello, Wanda.”

Her mouth tightens into a thin line as she takes a hesitant step inside, his response a signal they set up long ago, back when they first joined the Avengers. It simply means he is receptive to talk. Slowly she approaches him, sitting approximately three feet away, her hands falling into her lap, fingers intertwining. “I-how are you doing?”

Small talk has always confounded Vision as it seems unnecessary to build rapport every conversation when you could simply say exactly what you wish without pretense. But it seems a human trait and so he has learned to incorporate responses into his programming, have a set list that he can scan if need be. “I am fine. Yourself?”

“I’m okay.” Typically the script of small talk requires the initiator to continue, yet Wanda pauses, a silence thickening between them, growing denser at an exponential rate that convinces him he could reach out and meet resistance in the air. But he has no desire to probe the impetus of having this conversation, their first since the unfortunate incident (as the team seems to label it in conversation). “I, um,” she glances to the side, fingers tangling tighter as a cloud of scarlet engulfs her hands, “I don’t know how to cope with everything.” The everything is clearly implied, his mind retreating at the undertone of dismay, of self-hatred in the tremble of her voice. This is not what he wants to think about right now, caged in his mind while his body acts, yet he also doesn’t wish to deny the truth, particularly when it is finally clear that he is not alone in his hurt.

“Neither do I.”

This seems to break the tension between them, a soft, sad smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “I thought you’d understand.” Her body shifts, legs swinging closer to him as she repositions and angles herself to be more open to him, a position far more conducive to a conversation. “I just thought I-we were stronger, that it couldn’t happen again, like how many times can someone be possessed in a lifetime?” The self-deprecating tone almost forces a smirk on his face.

“I am certain we could come up with a predictive statistical model to determine the answer.”

Wanda releases an amused huff, the sound alien, yet still familiar enough to ignite a tiny spark of pride at eliciting the response. “I’m sure you could, with charts and everything. Call it the-”

A synthesized Domo Arigoto, Mr. Roboto bursts from his pocket, echoing off the walls, Wanda’s lips pucker in amusement as he fumbles with the device. If I have curfew, so do you. Come home and bring pizza...please. “My apologies, it is Viv.”

“Oh, how is she doing?”

Vision types his response out while weighing the question. “Well. I believe the Champions have been quite beneficial for her social and emotional development after,” he pauses before taking a cue from Wanda, “everything.”

The smile on her face is genuine as she says, “Good. She’s a great kid.”

“I- yes she is.” Another Domo Arigoto fills the air as Viv sends back a Curfew, father! “I must go.”

Wanda rises in synchronization with him, hands clasping as her eyes follow his movements, a tenseness in her muscles that implies she wishes to reach out, perhaps brush his shoulder goodbye, an action that used to be normative, quite some time ago. But she resists and he determines the subtle warmth pulsing in his chest at her control is from appreciation, though it also feels vaguely of affection. “Vizh?” They make eye contact and he gives her a slight nod to continue. “Would you be interested in talking sometime, I-” her hands unclasp, falling resolutely to her side as she tries to reconfigure her usual confidence, “I think it would be good for us, after everything.”

Confusion bunches his forehead, certain they did just that minutes ago and not entirely eager to repeat the experience again. “May I consider the request before answering?”

“Of course. Don’t feel obligated.”

There is a scratching under the table, an enthusiastic tap dance of four paws that grows more frenzied every time Viv phases her arm through the table. “Viv, it is well founded that feeding dogs table food only increases the frequency of begging.”

“He’s just going to fly up onto the table if I don’t feed him.” The tone is matter-of-fact, correctly so, several weeks ago they had to deal with Sparky realizing that he could fly and phase into the cabinet containing the dog treats. Now Vision and Viv take turns moving the treats every few days to keep the dog confused and entertained. “Why’d you stay so late today?”

The question is said with an air of innocence but is laced with concern and a protectiveness that has existed in his daughter since the loss of her brother and mother, but that intensified after she dispelled the virus from his body weeks ago. “I was speaking with Wanda.”

Viv phases her hand back up through the table, placing the half-eaten slice of pizza on the plate while her eyes narrow, consternation pursing her lips as she studies him. “What did you talk about?”

“I believe she was attempting to ascertain if I would be an empathetic ear concerning recent events.” Vision can look intimidating, is often told he is terrifying in an inhuman way, but the soul-stripping stare currently on Viv’s face is from her mother, all the way down to the slight crinkle near her eyes and the intense disbelief hovering unspoken on her lips. “She, um,” the stare should be listed as part of her super powers, though, he sometimes reasons, perhaps all teenagers have this skill, but it does not stop him from withering beneath it. “She wishes to meet up, speak again.”

Without removing her eyes from him, Viv picks up a piece of pizza, peeling a pepperoni off and eating it as the gears of her irises twist and twirl in thought. “Do you think that is a good idea?”

Which happens to be the exact thought that led to him delaying his decision when Wanda inquired as to his willingness. The difference, however, is the emphasize Viv places on the good and the slow, painstaking way she peels another pepperoni off the pizza, suggests there is a clear answer. “I believe there could be some merit in having a reasonable discussion with someone else who understands all that happened.”

“Perhaps.” The terseness of the reply makes her displeasure and suspicion of the suggestion quite clear.

“Do you believe it is an illogical action?”

Viv breathes in, collecting the air in her lungs for several seconds before releasing it with a drawn out, contemplative sigh. “I worry you will get hurt if you re-establish this connection.”

It is not a wholly illogical concern, but Vision understands it based on his own past, which means it seems odd coming from his daughter. “But you have spoken highly of Wanda and the help she supplied in the aftermath of Vin and Virginia’s deaths.” Their names are still painful to utter, but he and Viv made a pact to not shy from using their names because it is important to never allow their memory to fade, to dissipate into the earth without a word or a tear or wisp of sadness.

“She has been helpful to me, but to you,” Viv bites her bottom lip, eyes squinting as she wobbles her head side to side, choosing her next words carefully, “she has hurt you far too many times.”

This is not a lie or exaggeration. “I have hurt her as well.” And neither is his comment.

“But she is not my father, I am allowed to play favorites.” Another inhale and exhale leads to her shoulders dropping into a reluctant slouch. “If you want to talk to her, you should, but be careful.” The concern fades quickly from her face, replaced with teenaged indifference as she pushes her chair back, throwing a shrug at him before turning to leave the room. “Do what you want. I have a team meeting in the morning, good night.”

Chess has always been one of Vision’s favorite mental exercises. The strategies are similar and yet deviate just enough to make mapping the paths of the pieces exhilarating. He has spent many afternoons plotting both sides of a match (after beating everyone repeatedly, eventually no one wished to play with him anymore), recalculating the odds over and over until he found a perfect strategy. The difference between chess and real life, however, is that chess has a finite number of variables which means it is difficult, but not impossible, to understand every possible action. Currently he feels as if he is playing chess but with pieces he has never seen and on a board that lacks the typical layout and dimensions he has become accustomed to using. “So…”

Wanda sits in front of him, hands cupped around a steaming mug of tea, eyes bouncing between his face, the mug, the couple laughing at the table next to theirs, and the ceiling. Viv insisted he meet with Wanda in public, a suggestion that he could not find any fault with, that is until he realized how difficult it would be to discuss matters of possession and mind control, of feeling betrayed by your own team when normal people were milling about, throwing interested stares and not-so-subtly eavesdropping. “Do you remember much, about it?” Their surroundings mean they have to be cryptic and cognizant of not offering information to prying ears that could be leaked to the papers or cause panic.

The question immediately sends his sympathetic nervous system into action, muscles readying themselves to phase, escape the situation, but he centers his mind, controls his body to remain in his seat. “All of it, unfortunately. I was,” several words flash through his mind until one seems to fit the sensation of being controlled by the virus, “merely a spectator with no control.”

“I only have flashes,” he watches as her fingernails tap the ceramic mug, the paint chipping at the tips of her index fingers. “Bits and pieces, but it’s like my body knows everything, aches and flinches at random things, I just don’t have the memory.” Scarlet flashes around her hands, causing the steam to billow more freely from the mug. “I hate it, I wish I knew what happened.”

“No.” Vision shakes his head along with the word, “you do not want to know.”

Somehow he had never made the connection that Viv’s stare, that Virginia’s stare, matches almost point for point the angle and narrowness of Wanda’s. “I think I deserve to have some idea.”

The options are limited, the strategies similar yet slightly different. He could refuse, keep the information to himself and repress it as is his wont in life. He could inform her of general actions and the most pertinent information, save the most unsavory for repression. Or he could be honest with her, allow her to determine what to do with the information, perhaps it would allow him to find someone who can understand the quiet terror in his mind when he sees certain items, the paralysis of his body when he remembers the lives they took. “You do.” Here the strategies branch, he can tell her everything now, he could insist on spreading out the information, sharing it piece by piece over weekly coffee meetings, there is always a letter or email, though that is traceable.

But then he glances up at her, takes in her stare and the half-cocked tilt of her head, watches as her hair cascades over her shoulders and he can remember her staring at him like this over the newspaper, wrapped in her pink fuzzy robe, hair ruffled, asking him to help her with the crossword, but he, for some reason or another, refused, instead offered her a separate, far easier option. “Would you,” the suggestion forces its way out of his memory before he has time to really think about it, only briefly considering the major drawback of the tactic. He doesn’t even register his own feelings on it until he feels his body trembling at the invasion of his autonomy that he is about to welcome, one that he is terrified to allow after all that has happened. But he is unable to stop the words and later reasons that this would have been the best option anyway as it does not require him to have to put to words their experience, “like to take it from my mind?”

“Vision…” the stare moves from annoyance and defiance to concern, “are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Wanda glances around at the other tables, gauging the best way to go about a mental exchange of information. “Okay.” It used to be she had to make grand movements, a sweep of her arms to the side, stretched as far as they could reach before they swiped forward, palms meeting to spark scarlet. Now, after many years of exploring her powers, honing in on the best incantations and finger movements, she is able to send a tendril of scarlet into his mind with barely a movement, just a flick of her pinky.

His body flinches, mind resisting the intrusion, but he is able to talk down his processing units, inform his body that the scarlet is welcome, though still uncomfortable. The tendril snakes through his mind, poking through each memory unit he makes available to her, and even though he is a bit rusty at providing her information from his mind, she does not rush him, is patient as he sorts through what to share. The spark of appreciation forms in his chest at just how careful she’s being, a feeling that is reminiscent of better times, a far cry from the numerous occasions when she turned these powers against him.

When her powers recede, his body flinches again, though this time with a sense of loss, a quiet longing whispering in the back of his mind.

A sharp, guttural, wet intake of breath breaks his reverie and he finds Wanda with a hand over her mouth and trails of tears flowing from her eyes, the fat drops plopping onto the wooden table. “Wanda?” He reaches out a hand but stops himself inches from her own, fully aware how he has had no desire to be touched by anyone since regaining his sense of self. The last thing he wants is to cross the line, to go against her wishes of physical or emotional touch, to violate any trust between them because there has to be something separating them from the monsters they were turned into. “May I comfort you?” All Wanda manages is a nod and a turn of her hand, palm facing up in invitation, and Vision extends his arm three more inches, hovering his palm above hers before committing to the action and grasping her hand. “Wanda?”

“I-”

The people next to them are watching intently, the woman pulling out her phone and not even attempting to hide the fact she is recording their interaction. “May I walk you home?”

“Yes.”

No other words are exchanged when they stand, hands still interlocked as they weave between the tables. Silence wraps tightly around them as Wanda leads the way to her apartment, a location Vision has never visited and never asked about, certain he would never need to go there. The continuation of her tears is concerning, but Vision attempts to quell the overwhelming confusion of his own emotions with steady squeezes of her hand, mixing short grips with longer ones, conveying a Morse code message of “O.K.” just as they used to do when words failed.

It’s not until they reach the door of her apartment that she returns the pressure, fingers constricting around his palm in one steady motion. “Thank you.” Wanda extracts her hand from his and the air is cold against his palm causing his fingers to ache for companionship. Instead of reaching out to her, he simply slides his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I think,” a shaky hand brushes a strand of hair from her face, “I need some time to process everything.”

“That is understandable.”

Wanda offers him a tight-lipped smile before waving her wrist to unlock the door. “Do you mind if I?” The way her arms extend out finishes the sentence, the request clear and he finds himself acquiescing, stepping into her embrace while curling his arms around her waist. “Thank you, Vizh.”

“You are welcome, Wanda.” She steps away, disappearing into the darkness of her apartment, and leaves him alone and confused, the feel of her body pressed against his lingering, sending jolts of electricity up his spine in a way that is not completely unpleasant or unwelcome. But he shakes his head, certain something must be malfunctioning.

It turns out that learning of the information is just the first step, the second step is to process it, and so Vision and Wanda find themselves gravitating towards each other, speaking after meetings, before missions, during the lulls in mission, after training, on the weekends, occasionally on the phone late at night when she cannot sleep, though this often leads to Viv phasing into his room and telling him curfew applies to the home as well.

Sometimes, though, they go a week or more without a deep conversation, saying no more than hellos and how are yous. So their healing is spread out but when they are able to section off time it is filled with difficult, carefully worded conversations as they strive to work through the trauma together. It is a strange course of events, one that drums up feelings and thoughts he believed he had shoved to the furthest depths of his mind, wrapping a vibranium chain around it, and locking it with a 20 digit passcode. But each conversation he finds easier, notes how they sit slightly closer, how his body flows with more ease, muscles no longer perennially tensed with the thought of fleeing. They don’t even just leave it at the demonic possession and virus that led to them joining Hydra, but take their conversations back in time, talk through misuses of power, mental breakdowns, Vin, Virginia, and Victor, about disassembled and reassembled bodies and consciousnesses and the impacts the emotionlessness had on both of them. Tentatively, seven months after their first conversation, Wanda even brings up the twins and they spend a week speaking in broken sentences and heightened emotion about all that came of their children.

It also leads to a realization for Vision that, perhaps, he has not put forth enough effort to rekindle a connection with his long lost children, though he knows it is primarily because of the deep, unforgiving pain that knots into an unnavigable bundle in his stomach at the thought that they might have been happier with their second families. But Wanda touches his arm while he considers this, their months getting to know each other again leading to a relaxation in the rules of asking before delivering a friendly touch. “They ask about you a lot.”

“Do you see them often?”

Wanda nods, pauses while biting the right portion of her lower lip, and then raises a hand, shaking it to communicate the answer is more of a sort-of than a definite. “We get lunch every month or two, sometimes with both of them, sometimes separately.”

This is far more than him, he has only visited Billy once, spent an hour at his house, meeting his boyfriend Teddy and learning about his time on the Young Avengers. He left feeling reinvigorated, wanting to connect again, but nothing came of it, a failure on both sides to pursue the relationship, he thinks. “Are they doing well?”

“Yeah, they seem happy.” Her hand descends onto his arm again, remaining for 1.15 seconds before leaving, just long enough to encourage him to make eye contact. “You can join us next month, they’ll both be there and Billy’s bringing Teddy as well.”

Vision feels his mind freezing, chest constricting out of fear or perhaps nervousness, he is unsure at the moment. “Oh, I do not wish to impose.”

“You’re not imposing.”

The sudden interruption of Domo Arigoto signals that his curfew is up, Viv enforcing it with far too much glee and rigor than he does to her. “I must go.”

Wanda stands with him, following him to the door, the rings on her fingers thudding against the wooden slab as she holds the door open for him. “Night, dark eyes.” The nickname slips out unintended, that much is clear from the way Wanda’s eyes and mouth widen and she shuts the door quickly so she does not have to correct or explain the misstep.

Her words burrow deep within his skin, mind clouded and heart racing as he replays the glimmer in her eyes and the lopsided smirk as she wished him goodnight. The physical response is telling, and it has been occurring with greater frequency and intensity each time they meet, yet he is unwilling to allow his emotions to follow suit, demanding they listen to logic and reason and not go down this path once more. But the problem with emotion with (he clenches his fists even at the thought of this word) love is that it does not have to follow the demands of rational thinking, in fact, from his experience, it is when love enters an equation that you are no longer able to predict what will happen next.

“Father?”

Vision looks up, meeting the narrowed gaze and cocked head of Viv, her green hair falling lazily over her shoulder. He had not realized he had arrived home. “Did I make curfew?”

She glances at the clock and then turns her questioning stare back towards him. “Just barely, so I guess I won’t have to ground you this time.” As the words leave her mouth they pull her neutral expression up just slightly into a smile, one that he reciprocates. “You seem confused.”

The majority of individuals he interacts with on a daily basis believe in rapport building in conversations, of tip-toeing around what they mean. But Viv takes after him, her bluntness executed with aplomb and it is refreshing, a bit unnerving, but at least he is never confused as to her intentions. This also means that he speaks more openly with her than anyone else at the moment, though Wanda is beginning to reach similar levels, but nothing will compare to his daughter. “Wanda called me dark eyes tonight.” The comment is not as self-explanatory as he thought, Viv’s expression returning to bewilderment. “It is what she used to call me, when we were together.”

“How did it make you feel?”

His body says one thing, heart still four beats faster than its resting rate, his palms tingly which he always considers analogous to sweaty, if his body could produce sweat, and there is a stubborn warmth that pulses in his chest as he replays the good night one more time. “Not unpleasant.”

Viv nods, mouth drooping into a contemplative scowl. “Are you intending to rekindle your romantic affections for her?”

Despite her typical bluntness, this has been a topic they have danced around, neither seeming to want to bring it up, allowing it to fester in the corner where they can throw a blanket over it and pretend as if it does not exist. But now she has pulled the blanket away and laid it bare in front of them. “It would,” part of the reason he has so willingly kept it hidden is that he himself is unsure of the answer, “be disrespectful to your mother and if history is any indication, would likely not end terribly well.”

Vision expects Viv to agree, has not missed the hesitation in her voice whenever they speak of Wanda or the way she shrivels up (just slightly, he is uncertain if anyone else would notice) when he mentions he cannot do something because he is meeting with Wanda. “You have been happy lately,” Viv takes a step closer to him, breathing in deeply before continuing, “it has been refreshing and you have been laxer with the rules.” This is said as an aside, a facetious smile dancing along her lips before they resettle into a serious line. “Mother did not die so that we remain miserable.” Another step and she is standing in front of him, close enough that she can lift her hands and frame his face with her palms. “She died so we can live and part of living is being happy.”

“I am happy to have you in my life.”

The revolution of her eyes in teenage embarrassment and disbelief causes him to smile, reminding him so much of Wanda whenever he told the toaster joke. “There are different types of happiness and I cannot give you the same type as Wanda.” She removes her hands, crossing her arms and tucking her fingers into her sides. “You deserve contentment,” her eyes narrow once more, voice dropping an octave into a range more suitable for threats, “as long as you don’t abandon me.”

This time Vision steps forward, enveloping his daughter in a hug, tightening his grip as she tries to squirm out of the embrace with a disgusted father! But he holds fast, placing a rare kiss to her head with a promised, “I will not abandon you for anyone.”

Vision does not act on his newly rediscovered feelings, however, because if life has taught him anything, it is that no matter how strongly you love someone, it cannot protect you from the harshness of reality. In fact, love can blind you so much that you ignore every neon flashing sign pointing towards doom. He continues to speak with Wanda, not wishing to lose that friendship (terrified to lose her again, if he is being honest), but he can never bring himself to mention the dark eyes comment, to assess how she interpreted it, and he thinks the fact that she doesn’t mention it either indicates it was a slip-up and nothing more.

“Father.” Viv phases through the wall of their home office, hands hanging at her side with a placid expression on her face.

“Viv.”

“I invited Wanda over for dinner, she will be here in ten minutes.” Her eyes take in his outfit, lips smacking in thought. “You should change into a,” wrinkles form on her face as she scrunches her nose in disgust, “quieter sweater.”

The comment leads him to look down at the bright yellow chevrons adorning his chest, fingers picking at the fabric in confusion since it’s one of his favorites. When he returns his attention to his daughter she is gone, the room empty and unable to answer any of the questions whirling around his mind about what exactly is going on. But, he reasons, if Viv believes his sweater should change, he can do that for her, his body lifting from the chair as he phases upstairs to select a more muted, navy sweater. As he pulls the sweater over his head he realizes that they have not had anyone over for dinner...ever. Yet tonight they will despite there being no indication of food being prepared or beverages bought.

The doorbell chimes exactly ten minutes later, Wanda clearly getting better about being on time, and Vision phases down just beating Viv to the door. Slowly (after a pointed, questioning gaze is leveled at his daughter) he turns the knob, opening the door to find a grinning Wanda holding a steaming box of pizza. “Hi.”

“Hello, Wanda.” Though they have met often in the past months at Wanda’s apartment, this is the first time she is coming to his house, and his body and mind are in an uneasy disagreement about how to act. It feels sacrilegious, for some reason, to invite her in, this house containing only the memories of his family and he worries he is dishonoring their lives by inviting in a new, extremely, unquestionably human body. But at the same time there is a sense of rightness in her being here, a brief flash of carrying her bridal style into their new home in the suburbs, a glorious spike of joy at the thought. Hands grips his arm and shove him out of the way, determining the next course of action since he seems unable to act, and Viv replaces him at the door, offering to take the pizza from Wanda.

“Please come in.”

“How are you doing, Viv?”

The girl shrugs, leading them all into the kitchen, the uncaring sway in her walk dispelling his uneasiness, but only very slightly. “About the same as the last time we talked.” This sets off alarms in Vision’s head, the tiny amount of uneasiness he’d recently lost rushing back, realizing that something happened between the two that he is unaware of, but Viv keeps them moving, setting the pizza down and pointing at the chairs, not allowing him time to fully think through all of this. “I um,” Viv does not sit, instead she remains standing, fingers interlocking in nervousness, “actually got a call from the Champions for a...training exercise so I need to go.”

Vision’s muscles tense, mind racing as he watches her float towards the back door. “Viv?”

“Bye father, bye Wanda.”

A chuckled, “Bye, Viv,” is the final push to get her out of the house and suddenly Vision finds himself alone with Wanda in his own house, separated only by a pizza box. “She’s tricky.” It is said with admiration and Vision finds his chest filling with pride at the admission, agreeing that his daughter is to be lauded, though he is still uncertain exactly the reason for such praise at the moment.

“Did she inform you of her intentions?”

Wanda flicks her wrist, opening the box and grabbing a slice of pizza, grinning at him with a shake of her head, his eyes focusing on the way the tips of her hair stir along her shoulders. “You’re not very good at reading teenagers, are you?” It’s technically a question, though the tone is rhetorical and amused, her lips parting to reveal a sliver of her teeth, a disarmingly nonchalant grin. “Do you think she’s actually going to a training?”

Clearly the answer is no, based solely on the wicked gleam in her eyes but he would like to believe the basis of his relationship with his daughter is sewn with honesty. “I believe she is going to be with the other Champions and it is likely they may,” he gesticulates in an effort to pull out the proper phrase, distracted by the quirk of Wanda’s eyebrow and gleeful stare, “utilize their powers in which case it would be possible to label it as a training.”

“For all your brooding and intimidating intellect, you’re still adorably naïve about some things, Vizh.”

An easy and embarrassed smile lifts his lips as his gaze slides away from hers, though it does not stay away from her for long, idling back so he can meet hers eyes again, finding an old comfort in the contours of her face. “Why would she invite you to dinner only to leave?”

“Oh yeah, she’s got the wool pulled over your eyes.” Wanda smirks at him as she takes the last bite of her pizza, hands brushing together to remove the crumbs from her palms. “Did you know she and I got breakfast this morning?”

This game, funneling down from broad information down to the desired specifics, is quite ancient, an infuriating and yet invigorating form of communication that occurred only with Wanda. Tony tried it with him, but Vision never found it as enjoyable, would never play along. But Wanda’s stare, the tap of her finger on the table, and the coquettishly taunting smile draws him easily into the game. “I did not.”

“Didn’t think so.” She pauses, eyes roaming over the cabinets lining the walls. “Where do you keep your glasses?”

For all his attempts to blend in with human behavior, he has never quite gotten hosting down, though he did use to cook large meals for the team, but Wanda always handled the social responsibility of hosting while he focused on the food. “Water?”

“Please.”

Vision rises from the table, hovering to the third cabinet from the corner, the right door, second shelf, and removes a glass, his body following the predetermined path to grab the pitcher of filtered water from the fridge. “Was there a reason-” Where the water should be is a blue, intricately labeled bottle of wine. There’s also a corkscrew and two long-stemmed wine glasses set on the shelf next to the bottle.

“Something wrong?”

“I believe Viv might need to be grounded for breaking the law.” Which he knows is not as easy to assess as it is with traditional humans. Viv is technically programmed as a teenager but lacks the necessary passage of time to actually have an age, so it might not be illegal for her to have purchased alcohol.

A feather light touch ghosts along his shoulder, Wanda’s body coming to stop next to him, close enough that he can feel her gravitational pull, contemplates allowing his feet to move an inch to the right so that their shoulders brush, but he plants his feet firmly into the ground. “Oh, I bought that, don’t worry.” A tendril of scarlet extends from her fingers, reaching in front of him to grab the wine bottle. “I hope you still like this kind.”

His eyes scan the label, a relatively young Riesling that should be crisp with subtle sweet tones. “I am certain I will not dislike it.” It’s not quite a snort, but her laugh manifests as a rush of air up her nose and a broad smile. Vision does his best to control the smile tugging at his lips, still blanketed in a general discomfort at being surprised. “Wanda?”

“Hmm?”

Her name rolled off his lips before he had the chance to determine exactly what he’d like to say, mind shorting out for roughly a second before he is able to choose a course of action, eyes searching the house to determine if his next suggestion is the correct option given the circumstances and his duty as a host. “Would you like to sit on the couch, it is far more cushioned and offers better lumbar support than the kitchen chairs.”

“Only if you bring the wine with you.”

“Of course, please” the stems of the glasses are crossed over each other in his hand, which means his gesture towards the living room is a bit rougher than intended, but Wanda understands his unspoken comment, flashes him a smirk before disappearing from the kitchen. It feels, not wrong, necessarily, but maybe indecorous (yet enticingly indecorous) to allow his eyes to follow the sway of her hips, to not stop his heart from increasing a beat or keep his fingers from tightening around the glasses. This, he has to keep reminding himself over and over, a mantra, maybe even a prayer, this cannot end well. Vision breathes in, trapping the air in his lungs long enough for it to burn, and then walks towards the couch, placing the glasses down before working the cork from the bottle. “You were saying, earlier, that you and Viv partook of breakfast?”

One of the glasses disappears from his hand as soon as it’s filled, floating through the air on a disk of scarlet being puppeteered by Wanda’s thumb and ring finger. “Yeah,” Vision settles onto the couch, placing himself one and a quarter cushions from Wanda, a distance that is close enough to allow friendly conversation, but far enough to remove temptation. “She just wanted to clarify some matters, talk through some concerns she had about how much time we’ve been spending together. It was a good talk.”

“I-,” there is a subtext to the words but Wanda has always been an expert at concealing the subtext when she wishes for him to have to maneuver the conversation towards the information. “What,” he finds himself yet again thinking about strategy, contemplating the most appropriate move to come out of the puzzle of conversation victorious. For now he decides an upfront approach may be best. “What concerns did she have?”

Wanda sips her wine, eyes trained on the glass and the reflection of the distant fluorescent kitchen light hovering in the liquid. She clicks her tongue three times before her lips part, then close again, a nervous arc forming on her mouth, no doubt weighing the level of directness she desires to use. “She is worried I am going to hurt you again.”

This causes his heart to drop, nestling into his stomach where it increases its density to match that of a two-ton boulder. “I apologize,” he wonders if he needs to keep a closer eye on Viv, or if they need to discuss boundaries and information that is and is not okay to ask of others. “I have not been particularly skilled or forthright enough to explain the intricacies of...everything to her.”

Wanda shrugs, taking another sip of wine. “It’s not like she’s wrong. We’ve been pretty awful to each other at various points in time.” Which is putting it quite mildly. “But that was only half of her questions.”

“Oh?”

The calm surety drops momentarily from Wanda’s lips, the wine glass hovering just at her mouth, her lower lip pressed gently to the glass as a soft, almost imperceptible blush breaks on her cheeks. It is a stunning image, one he has already encoded, rehearsed, and stored without a second thought. “She asked-” the wine glass moves slightly, tapping against the disbelieving smirk on her face, “Here, I’ll ask you.” Wanda lowers the glass, turning her body towards him, her legs following the momentum and closing the carefully measured gap between them. In fact, all Vision has to do is turn 30 degrees and her foot would brush against his leg. “What’s the most embarrassing memory you have from our relationship?”

Embarrassment is not a particularly strong emotion for Vision, something he has always quietly believed sets him apart from humans, his mind, in general, fairly impenetrable to the rush of heat at doing something odd. Perhaps it is because he is himself an oddity that it is such an uncommon feeling. “Embarrassing?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, two short, slightly different ascending notes, “pretty sure my face looked just like yours when she asked me.” He has to stop trying to think of an answer in order to process the feel of his facial muscles, surprised to find his mouth forming a slight frown and the weight of a crinkled forehead pushing his eyes into a squint. Though he was not there for the moment, the image of Wanda’s face mimicking his expression is quite clear in his mind. “Come on, Vizh,” her accent thickens on the zh, a vocal trick she utilizes when he is being too, what she always called, stuffy.

“The most embarrassing?” The wine glass rotates in his fingers as he thinks, extrapolating from his memories an instance that someone else would find embarrassing, even if he himself does not recall such a feeling. “I believe it was when I rushed to your side, foregoing the mission despite knowing you were not actually harmed.”

“Which time?” This comment for some reason brings the feel of embers to his cheek, stoked by the impish smile on her face. “Mine was that time you phased me through the bed and I got stuck, but don’t worry, I left it vague, don’t want to scar Viv.”

The heat moves from his cheeks, racing down his throat where it bursts in his chest, bubbling back up as a hearty laugh. “I am certain she appreciated that.” He thinks back to that day and realizes it was, comparatively, quite embarrassing. “Jarvis was rather concerned.”

Her laughter joins his, the blush crawling down her cheeks where it engulfs her neck before branching under the neckline of her dress. “Tony probably still has the pictures. Not sure why you couldn’t just get me back out but you insisted on letting people help.”

“I-” Vision attempts to determine a defense, failing to procure one at the time and still utterly failing to have one now, “it seemed inconsiderate to deny their help.”

The you’re-so-full-of-shit stare on her face is enough to bring another laugh from his chest. “Says the ever so considerate man who never turned down leaving a battle for a quick make-out.”

“That is an entirely different matter.”

A sensation forms on his shin, a light, rhythmic tap. When he looks down he realizes it’s her foot, nudging him. “You just like to logic your way into making your behavior acceptable. Go ask Steve how much he liked holding Lady Liberty’s crown.”

“You were almost hurt, I had to check on you.”

Another nudge of her foot and he finds his body relaxing into the couch. “And when we ducked behind a tree while Count Nefaria was attacking?”

Vision finds himself shrugging, not filtering his words before saying them, “I felt it imperative in the moment to inform you of my love.” The air between them stiffens, Wanda’s wine glass hovering down to the table as she turns to face him directly, a terrifyingly neutral set to her mouth and eyes. “Wanda, I-”

“Do you,” the words are soft, as if her lungs are weakened and unable to produce fully rounded syllables, “do you ever.” The thing Vision has always admired about Wanda, even when it annoyed him beyond words, was her inability to mask her emotions for long, wearing them much like a sweater, warm and welcoming and easy to parse out. Currently her mouth is quivering, eyes blinking at a rapid rate while she stares at her hands. Vision is not certain why he feels this is best, but he reaches out to calm her antsy fingers, envelopes her hands in his own.

“Wanda?” Eventually she stops avoiding his gaze, making eye contact along with her best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Please tell me what is on your mind, I lack your abilities to simply take the information.”

This seems to shatter her nervousness, the grin tipping up into a genuine, albeit sardonic, arc. “You’re ridiculous.” Her hands rotate just enough to bring her palms flat against his, fingers weaving between his, forming a mesmerizing alternating pattern of crimson and peach. “Do you ever think we’ll have that again?”

It is a question he has avoided, pushed aside even with admitting to Viv his own burgeoning feelings. “I-” their relationship had always been built on honesty and trust, yet cut and tarnished by insecurities and the inability to regroup and cope as a unit when the worst happened (though sometimes it was out of their control). Perhaps, and it is a big perhaps, they could learn from their mistake. “I have never lost that love for you, Wanda Maximoff. It,” honesty is probably not a mistake and so he reasons he should continue that trait, “has diminished, but it has never completely vanished.”

The minuscule tilt of her mouth is promising. “Same.” At some point his body moved, now only half a cushion from her but it allows him a better vantage of her features, the hope in her eyes that is surrounded by the bite of uncertainty and the wraith of their past. “Would it be a mistake to,” she breathes out, a partial laugh conveying perfectly the tightness gripping his chest, the anticipation and terror at what they seem to be inching towards, “try again?”

“That is a statistically supported possibility.” Her face falls, eyes developing a sheen of water as she turns from him, but Vision phases a hand from her grip, placing it along her jaw to redirect her attention. “There is also error in statistics, other interpretations, which means it is also possible,” the diminishing distance between their faces distracts him momentarily, overcome by the wisp of air leaving her mouth to dance along his skin, “it is also possible that we could learn from our past and succeed.”

“Is that what you want?”

Viv has pestered him about it, demanded an answer, and clearly grew impatient enough to have set up this intervention. “Only if we take it slow, establish ground rules - such as Viv is important to me- that will take precedence.”

“Of course.” Her hand runs along the edge of his v-neck and his eyes close at the sensation. “Vizh?”

“Wanda?”

There is now only a quarter of a cushion between them, her legs shoving his slightly to allow her to get closer. “Could I kiss you first and then we set the rules?”

A shaky “Of course,” leaves his mouth just before the press of her lips to his renders all other thoughts or concerns unintelligible, his body responding, leaning forward to reciprocate the kiss and he is enthralled at the ridges on her lips, having forgotten exactly how they felt, and the way they seemed to capture the sweetness of the wine, reserving it for him to savor. And then she pulls back, palm laid on his chest as a smile overtakes her face, working its way up into her eyes and sending shockwaves of wrinkles out when he matches her grin.

“So,” Wanda scoots back, removing her legs from between his, but her hand continues to touch him, trailing down his chest and making a short jump to rest on his knee. “Viv told me she’d make sure I disappeared from the Earth if this went wrong, so we probably should set those rules, huh?”

Vision nods, identifying the heat in his chest as affection, a hesitant affection but one he hopes continues to grow, that is never shattered by a wave of red or a whispered curse, one that is never stifled by his own anger and misgivings about if he is human. Because this is likely going to fail, history repeats, but for the first time in a long time he has some amount of hope that perhaps, for once, life will favor a new beginning.

#scarletvisionexchange2017 #sve2017 #scarlet vision #vision #wanda maximoff #viv vision #comics fic #angst with some fluff #ao3

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scarletvisionperfection · 7 years

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Scarlet Vision - Oblivion

Created for Sofia (@sofia-princess ) as part of the Scarlet Vision Exchange 2017

A huge round of applause to Anya ( the wonderful @atendrilofscarlet) for putting the exchange together this year - You deserve a medal!

I hope you like it Sofia! Let me know what you think :-)

#scarlet vision #sve2017 #scarletvisionexchange2017 #wanda maximoff #Vision #Scarlet Witch #I hope you like it!

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scrletvsn · 7 years

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A Beautiful Hobby

Title: A Beautiful Hobby For: @visionxwanda Rating: T Word count: 1,5k Warnings: None Summary: Since the Sokovia incident, Vision felt increasingly lost with his existence. His prospects for the future change when he found support and kind words from Wanda Maximoff. AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12126762 Message for visionxwanda: I am only hoping that you can see Wanda and Vision in this fic. It was so pleasant to write them and I tried to transform in words what I think it was their first contact. I am pretty sure that Wanda influenced most of his hobbies, but the one I chose I am certain it was his first and favorite one. Thank you for your beautiful prompt, I wish I could write all of them. Other Note: A huge thank you to @mrtnfreemn for being the best beta and friend. Lov u. Made for the Scarlet Vision Exchange 2017! With each passing day of his existence, Vision got more impressed with humans and their deeds. They were doomed to the end, yes. But nothing would stop him from admiring the time he has, knowing them, learning with them, enjoying the miracle of life that they gave him. Since the Sokovia incident, Vision felt increasingly lost with his existence. He was created to save the world, defeat Ultron. Now that his mission had been completed, he had no idea what to do with his time. His appearance was very peculiar for walks through New York City, so he limited these small walks at dawn, turning his density so light that hardly was seen by the few inhabitants that came across. He visited the most beautiful stops of the city, he found out the reason it’s known as the city that never sleeps, he saw the human interactions in the distance. Vision was out of breath admiring the humans. Their laughter, their screams, their cries, everything was so beautiful. And he wanted so much… And he wanted so much to live this. But he was not human, just merely a copy and he couldn’t live this. And it was then that he gave up wandering like a ghost and decided to feel content living only in the tower. Out of sight, out of mind… Right? Vision tried to interact with the Avengers as well, but turned away when realized he was not helpful in this hard time. Tony Stark could barely look into his eyes. Vision believed it was due to the voice of his old friend JARVIS, but decided to leave the inconvenience of touching the subject for a less inopportune moment. Captain Rogers and Black Widow were too busy working with the rescue team of survivors from Sokovia, and Clint spent his days aiding Wanda Maximoff, who was going through an emotional whirlwind after the loss of her twin. No matter how much he insisted, no help he could give to any of them. A month had passed since his creation and Vision found himself in the middle of the night wandering through the Stark Tower. Despite going against all the expectations he had in the early days of his life, Vision felt something latent in the depths of his artificial chest. As he paced the main floor and touched the same furniture he had touched a few weeks ago, he decided to name the sensation down as lamentation. That building was his crib, home, and sanctuary. Say goodbye to it is to say goodbye to the only place he fit. Vision’s feelings confused him. How could an artificial being have emotions that belong to the natural world? Before he could spend hours stifling theories to understand himself, a noise interrupted his thoughts. “Sorry … I … Ahm …” He saw Miss. Maximoff crouched on a broken vase, trying to energetically gather all the earth that was spread on the floor. Vision did not know how to interpret the questioning look and the startled pause she made as he approached to help. He preferred to leave at the back of his mind the possibility of her seeing him as a freak. Gathering the earth, Vision suddenly stopped. He gave himself the time to feel the dark, wet sand in his hands, it’s texture, the way it slips from his purple palms and fall a few inches to join the heap of dirt. His eyes went beyond his hand to notice the contrast of his own color with the sand and it’s with the light skin of Miss. Maximoff. As he left his hand only a few inches from Miss. Maximoff, a twinge bloomed in his chest. It was not physical pain, the possibility of him being physically injured was practically minimal, such as being ill. But it was constant and, as he analyzed and counted all the differences between their hands, it increased. It might have been hours for him, but only a few minutes passed when the young woman withdrew her hand and their eyes met. In her eyes, curiosity grew just as it had that first day. In his, only pain. “Thank you for helping.” She said, after cleaning. She picked up the single surviving tulip from the floor as she stood up, and held it to the Vision, regretting this as soon as questioning appeared in the robot, android, man’s gaze. He took the flower anyway, touching it as if it was made of crystal, looking at every detail as if it as his first time seeing a flower. Wanda actually believed this was his first time. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” “Quite beautiful, and delicate. And purple.” His fingers touched the petals, admiring the difference between the purple of his skin and the one of the flower. “My mother had always wanted to plant a tulip.” She said, ignoring the lump in her throat. “But in Sokovia it wasn’t easy to find them. You know… the cold.” “Did she like to garden?”“She planted everything she could, but it wasn’t much. Our apartment was too small for this.” She said, admiring the flower in the man’s hand. “But a hobby is a hobby, she would not stop to plant for lack of space. “ “A hobby?” Vision finally said taking his attention away from the flower. “Yes … Do you know what it is?” “I am familiar with the definition. But human things have been extremely complicated to understand by myself. ““A hobby is when…” Wanda started as she sat on the couch. She looked at him until he understood and sat by her side. Satisfied, she continued: “We do something we like, for pleasure, for having fun… for distraction. My mother planted everything she could. My brother,” You’ll say his name one day, Wanda. But not today. “He loved to run. He used to go for long runs every day. The hydra men believed that he got his abilities because of this…” Vision was trying to disguise his excitement from finally talking to someone. He had spent weeks rehearsing trivial dialogues with humans, hoping he could fit in, but nothing could match finally talking to someone in the flesh. And, not just greetings or questions without meaning when stumbling upon the hallway but, to have a complete conversation. They were far apart on the couch, but Vision could see her perfectly. Her hair no longer looked as lined up as before, it was messy and full. Her eyes were swollen, despite the blurred makeup disguise. And there were her eyes… Her eyes were beautiful, enchanted, human, watching and doubting everything around. But there was something about her, like a lie. As if the smile on her lips was not compatible with her eyes. “And your hobby?” Vision asked after realizing that it had been a long time staring her. Humans don’t like to be stared, he realized some time ago. She laughed. “I don’t know anymore. I use to like drawing, but in hydra they did not let us to do normal things.. .” Her eyes fell on the immense window, as if searching for answers to all of her pain. Having found her answer, she said dryly: “Maybe my biggest collection is death.” “Never.” And the intensity of this single word surprised Wanda. He only continued when she looked him in the eye. “You are such a strong woman, Miss. Maximoff. Vou have several powerful abilities, but none of them is to bring death.” “I drew as a child. I think it could be said that this was my hobby.” She said, not knowing how to form in words the warmth in her chest. “Drawing again will make you feel better?” His voice came out so innocent and hopeful that Wanda could do nothing but smile and nod. “Then I’ll get you drawing material tomorrow. But I think now you should go to sleep, your body is showing signs of fatigue and it’s late.” And she knew he was right. Without letting a smile leave her face, she said goodbye to the strange man, surprised of the nice time they had after everything that happened. Before leaving the room completely, she grabbed the sleeve of her coat feeling anxious and turned to Vision. “And your hobby? Do you know which one it is yet?” She knew that he was not human like the others, but his eyes did not lie. He is. After having such a pleasant conversation, she could not help but try to be nice to him. He smiled sadly at her. “I have no hobbies, Miss. Maximoff. I am not human.” But his eyebrow arched when he saw the rolling eyes of the beautiful woman in front of him. “What would you like to do? I do not want a melancholic answer this time.” Hypocrite? Perhaps. But he really was more than not human.“I do not know.” “We’ll think something tomorrow, shall we?” Her smile was largest than any other given to him. Vision’s artificial heart beat faster, while nodding and seeing Wanda Maximoff’s smile as she left the room. They would talk again, after all. Maybe his social skills were not as bad as he thought. Turning and smiling at the sight of the immense New York, holding the delicate tulip in his hands, there was no more lamentation in him. Now he finally knew what he would do. He did not talk about the decision of his new hobby. Maybe it would not fit in the relation of only acquaintances that they had, but he already decided. His new hobby would definitely be studying mankind and ways to overcome mourning because he definitely wants to put that smile on the face of the beautiful Wanda Maximoff again. He will make her smile again.

#scarletvisionexchange2017 #sve2017 #scarletvision #wandavision #the vision #vision #wanda maximoff #scarlets2visionfics #scarlet vision

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mickeyyasi · 7 years

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A warm home

Title: A warm home For: @soldmysoultomarvel Rating: T Word count: 3,9 K

Warnings: None

AO3 link: Not yet :(

Summary: After Ultron, the death of Pietro and unexpected help, Wanda leaves her fears to become an Avenger. Vision and Scarlet Witch help each other to adapt to their new task to save the world. They becomes best friends, and soon, that friendship becomes in something more: he fall in love with her and her fall in love with him.

Prompt: Vision wants to cushion Pietro's absence on her birthday so he decides to plan a small weekend at the Barton's farm in the company of the hole team...

*Note 1* This fic is a chapter that belongs to one I made of more than 20 chapters. I want to say thanks to Anya for organizing this, since without her I wouldn't been encouraged to write something that had already been in my head for a year. I didn't know that it took time to get an account on AO3, so as soon as I have it I will start adding the other chapters to that platform. Whoever read this, I really hope you like...

*Note 2* Marvel Dumpster Fire: Here is my gift for you, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing 😊

He had heard Wanda's funny and happy anecdotes in her stay the times went to the Barton's farm, and Vision thought it would be a good idea to celebrate her birthday there, convinced the Captain that a weekend would not hurt the team and he wanted to cushion Pietro's lack a little that day with everyone's company and in a more familiar atmosphere. Steve noticed Vision's interest in Wanda but didn't comment on thinking that they had become really close by the similarities in their lives. He thought of Bucky and that he used to take him to appointments or bars to make him feel less alone, he wasn't sure if the plan of the farm would work but at the end of the day Bucky's presence was what helped, not the bar or the girl completely disappointed, then perhaps Wanda would not have gone so badly if everyone made her feel special on her birthday. So he agreed, hoping that no villain would ever think of conquering the planet while they were celebrating the birthday of the youngest avenger (not counting Vision). They arrived almost at noon on the farm. As soon as the Quinjet arrived, the children ran to they, Lila immediately located Nat and Wanda and ran to embrace them, Cooper was with Tony, who had gone to try to make passes with Wanda, or at least hoped not to be stupid enough to ruin the day and give her a peace offering that Vision suggested to him to do. Clint greeted everyone and noticed Vision as he helped Tony to lower a couple of boxes that said "fragile" although what caught his attention weren't the boxes ... “I'll take this to your barn, I promise it's not a killer robot,” Tony warned, and Clint nodded. “Vision with clothes?that's new” “I'm say him it's more comfortable for everyone just to see his cape on missions.” Wanda replied with Lila on her back. “Wanda says it makes me look less on guard.” Vision responded by walking away with Tony to the barn. “And much cooler,” Wanda said as she smiled at Vision and without another word ran with Lila toward the house. “I just saw Wanda smile at Vision?” “They do it all the time. And above all telepathically.” Nat responded by slapping his shoulder. “Wait, Nat, do they have some kind of thing?” “I think so, but I doubt they will either know it or accept it, naive, just like you.” Nat replied in the distance. Wanda helped Laura with Nathaniel while the others helped at the table and Nat played with the children. Vision returned 20 minutes after they arrived and apparently Tony would not join them until later. When Vision phases through the door saw the most charming image in his short life In the living room, Wanda held the smallest of the Bartons. He seemed to like the heights because every time she lifted it, the baby made a contagious laugh. Vision hoped that Nathaniel would not tire soon because if he laughed Wanda did too and it was always good to hear Wanda laugh. Lila arrived a little later with a drawing in the hand to show it to her. Wanda seemed so happy and so relaxed to be around those children that the Vision plan was working. He hoped that would continue that way the next day it was her first official birthday without her brother. “She's beautiful, isn't?” Laura asked, relying on the other side of the frame of her living room. “She seems to me the most beautiful of all that exists and that can exist.” “Why don't you tell her?” “Because I'm not sure if she feel the same way about me.” “The first step is to accept it. The second is that you be brave and tell her, you might be surprised by her answer.” “Not this...”Vision was left with the words in the air as Laura entered the room and without further he followed. After a few hours dinner was ready, and Tony joined them with their hopeless and tiresome talent for making everyone laugh at the table, Vision helped Wanda with the dishes while the others helped with other tasks. Vision thought the Avengers were like a family, they were a very strange but still a nice one. After dinner, a talk and some science questions that Cooper made to Vision all went to bed. Cooper told Vision that he needed to fix his telescope and since Vision didn't need to sleep he offered to fix it during the night. After Cooper gave him the telescope, Wanda walked with Lila to the bedroom and put the two small beds together so that the three of them had a larger sleeping space, Stark took one of the guest rooms, claiming that he needed a good bed for his back, Nat took the other, Rhodes would sleep in the living room, Sam and Steve in the barn and well, Vision wouldn't sleep, so Wanda would sleep with the kids. Ever since they had established their mental link in Wanda's dreams, Vision slept with her, his thoughts removed her nightmares, and also he used to hold her to comfort her. That clearly wouldn't happen that night, although it would seem that she would be okay without him. Tonight he had a telescope to arrange, in the morning a tea to prepare and most importantly, make sure Wanda had a good birthday. “Sing for us.” Lila's voice brought Vision out of her thoughts. “Yes and read us a story, please.” Asked Cooper “Mmmm both not is too late, I also thought that only Nathaniel liked my sing.” “Dad says that maybe you're cursing sweetly in Sokovian.” Cooper laughed. “Cooper! We shouldn't say that!,” exclaimed Lila laughing as well. “Maybe I should teach you to curse their father in Sokovian.” Wanda suggested with a Machiavellian smile. “That would be incredible.” Cooper exclaimed. “Wanda, I didn’t think...” Vision was going to suggest that it might not be a good idea to teach the children bad things, but when he heard the laughter of the three and realized that Wanda was joking. “Well, what if Vision tells the story of the dance of the fauns while I sing the part of the story in which the fauns sing.” “Okay.” They responded in unison. Curling up with Wanda to the center while Vision stood floating with legs crossed between them. Vision had read Narnia a few days ago, it was one of the sagas that most liked both, the Bartons had the book so it was easy for him to locate that part. Without preamble Vision narrated with an impressive description the history, and as if they had already done it thousands of times, the voice of Wanda was acompass with the songs of history with Vision reading. The story ended and between Wanda's voice and the warmth of the embrace both children began to sleep. “Children are easier to take care of than you would think,” Vision said. “Try to have them all week,” Wanda whispered with a smile. “You look very natural next to them.” “Natural?” “More relaxed, happier” Wanda only smiled at him. “Wanda?” “Vizh?” “Would you like this?” He pointed around him. “A family a normal life?” Wanda considered the answer. “When I was a girl, I used to play a lot with the dolls my dad used to do for me, there were many, but there were two with which I played more. I called me her mother and took them everywhere with me. The idea of parenting was not ruled out, but I was just a child. But now, if I had children I would only put them in danger, expose them to the world and the world could hurt them or even me.” She punctuated with her red dendrites coming out of her hand. “And a normal life ceased to be a priority since I began to protect the world. There are things more important than dreams of the past.” “Wanda ...” “I think you should fix that telescope,” Wanda finished the conversation; Vision sighed, knew it was a subject she didn't want to touch for now. “Good night Wanda, I'll be close if you need me.” “Thank you Vision.” Vision went to the attic where there were some tools and the noise he did, couldn't hear it much. He thought about what Wanda said, their duty was also a priority beyond their dreams, but Wanda forgot that she was still human and that like Clint, she had the opportunity to form a family and if she could just see the way in which he saw her she wouldn't have to think that she would hurt her children, after all she always sought in the missions that all were protected. Suddenly, Vision imagined Wanda being a mother, imagining that she would look more beautiful than she already was, imagining her making dinner in a house in the suburbs, and singing to her babies. The thought full of happiness the heart of Vision and also made him smile, but as soon as he felt that happiness reality brought him back, even if he admitted his feelings towards her and a true miracle, something almost impossible, Wanda gave him a chance , someone like him (and there was no one else like him, he thought sadly), could never give her a family, a normal life, not without drawing attention to his appearance or if many didn't consider him a man, much less Wanda's man, and could not give her children. As much as it hurt to admit it, he couldn’t and shouldn’t be with Wanda. At 7:30 a.m., Vision set about scanning the Bartons cupboard, fortunately they have tea and honey, so he prepared one for Wanda and went to the room while he took out his suitcase one of the gifts he had for her and slipped it into the bag of her sweater. When he reached the room Wanda was still sleeping with her back to the door while she hugged Cooper, again he saw the image of Wanda watching over the dreams of her children just like he did with her, but he discard the image immediately since he must leave those thoughts to the side. Sitting down as quietly as possible on the shore where Cooper and Wanda huddled, Vision ran his hand down her cheek; he thought that even asleep she looked beautiful, then he took his hand away and gently shook her shoulder to wake her. She turned to his side and looked at him with a smile. “Morning Shade.” “Good morning Maximoff.” Vision smiled back at the same time he gave her the usual tea. He was going to speak when suddenly a thunderous noise from the door raised the children and Wanda almost threw her tea. “Happy Birthday Girl!” Clint shouted as he slammed the door open with his palms, letting them all see behind him. “Hey Wanda! How you feel that you will not have a toast today because you're not legal yet?” Tony asked. “Well, I don't think it's legal to give alcohol to a 90-year-old men, so ... Steve answered.” “Is it what I think it is? or did our good captain have just offered alcohol to an 18-year-old girl?” Sam asked “19, Sam and I'm not a girl.” Wanda answered, taking a little more of her tea as she smiled sincerely. Vision felt relieved to see that Wanda didn't flee the room or was angry with him for doing this. “I believe that Vision came forward early and already put something Geneva in that tea.” Nat say as she leaned against the wall. “Oh no!Vision in my kitchen? Please tell me you didn't burn anything.” Clint asked while everyone else laughed. “I don't burned anything Mr Barton, I have learned very well these months. Vision responded.” As Wanda and Sam laughed. Wanda returned the tea to Vision while he got out of bed while Lila, Cooper and the others hugged Wanda. “Okay everyone! We have a cake to make. Laura said as they all began to come down.” Until Vision and Wanda were left alone. “So, a weekend to catch up with the Bartons?” “Wanda sorry, just ...” “Vision calm down, I love the surprise. And I know was your idea because no one else knew about my birthday.” “Well technically it's not your birthday yet, but I'm glad I did something that you liked. Now I have your first gift do you want to see it?” “First? Vizh just bring us here and you have given me even more. Wanda answered without removing her smile from her face.” Vision brought the box closer to her hand and Wanda opened it. It was a sapphire drop necklace and earrings, Wanda lacked sapphire on her small collection so he thought it would be a good gift. “These are beautiful Vizh, thank you.” “You're welcome.” Wanda took his hand. They held their hands before, but no more time than the necessarily. “Now let's go before the boys eat the cake dough.” Wanda say. After breakfast and cake baking, they stayed most of the day in the courtyard. Rhodes and Sam were on the grid trying to turn it on after Clint told them they couldn't do it (actually he wanted them to do all the work) Vision was exploring, Tony said he would fix a tractor so no one came near to annoy, Wanda and Steve play with the children while Laura was talking to Nat. When Wanda got tired of playing the spies she sat with the little Pietro next to Clint. “Hey kiddo, how's it going?” “Just how it should go.” “You're fine? Are you comfortable?, because you know we can stop this and...” “I've never had a party like that, and now I'm the center of attention on my birthday. I have a new family, they have given me beautiful gifts, and all day it was only me, me and me and still not feeling well, I still lack my other half.” Wanda said, starting to break her voice and removing a couple of tears from the eyes. “You don't have to try to be strong, none of us are going to judge you if you cry a little, if you cry, they will give you space and they return with you when is the moment, seriously we care, you still have a long way to go, you have much to live, you know that you wouldn't be here carrying this baby and I wouldn't be here watching how you become of one of the most valuable women on the planet if it was not for your brother. He would be very proud of what you have done for others and for you. I will never reach the life to thank him for his sacrifice. So, let's celebrate the opportunity to be here, for Pietro.” “For Pietro” Wanda answered. “You want a beer?” “Nope, I'm fine.” “Good answer.” Nathaniel cuddled in her arms and she began to stroke his small hair. “So what happens between you and Vision?” “Nothing happens between Vision and me. He's my best friend.” Wanda blushed “You talk a lot about him when you were here, What’s going on?” “Nothing is going on, I’m just help him to feel a little more normal.” “You feel something for him.” Clint said it as fact not a question. Wanda just snatched his beer from him, taking a sip, sipping that she immediately spat. “See? It's easier for me tell it than you to accept it.” “Is not easy, probably he doesn't feel the same.” “Probably you wrong.” “He's just being nice because we've been helping each other for months.” “Not even the best friend makes tea with honey in the morning in a unknown house, or convince Captain America to give all the Avengers a free weekend, or is he the first to see you on your birthday, nor does he look at you as if you were the winner ticket of the lottery.” “Yes but...” “Heee! We did it!” both heard Sam scream in the distance. “Yeah? Well, is 6 p.m. it's almost dinner.” Clint shouted back. “There are no buts Wanda, both deserve to be happy.” And with that he got up to help the boys with the grill. In the distance she saw Vision, Clint was right. But she no longer wanted to lose another person, didn't want to go through the uncertainty and pain of not knowing if she will be there forever with those she love. “How's everything, Wanda?” Vision asked in a sigh so that little Pietro didn´t wake up. “Very well in fact,” she answered with a smile. After the meal almost dinner, the day began to reach its end. Tony joined them after taking a shower, the cake at first glance looked great, they sang Happy Birthday to Wanda and they sent the kids to bed, it was almost 8 pm when almost all the Avengers were a little drunk except Laura, Wanda, Vision and ... Tony ?. “Wanda, can we go for a walk?” Tony asked, pointing to the entrance. The sincerity in his gaze, the imprecision of words at his request or guilt in his eyes, Wanda never believed he saw Tony Stark that way. “Sure.” She says giving a glance at the others, the only one who was watching was Vision who prompted her to go with him. Outside, she and Tony walked silently into the woods. “Here.” Tony pointed to a place with blue lights. Wanda's jaw jumped a little in surprise when she saw it. Tony had made a koi garden, the pond lit up with faint blue lights and then orange, emitting smoke around, smooth marble stones to sit on, the garden was surrounded by white lights in series, as if were fireflies, it was not cold since the thermo regulator of the pond also emitted heat around, all this fed from a classic reactor of his Iron Man costumes and the ceiling looked like a bone-colored cloth. Tony went to the reactor that was in a corner and pressed a button that made the ceiling transparent, only the lights of the stars, the pond and the lights around it could be seen, it looked really beautiful. When she saw him, tears fell from Wanda's face.

In memory of Pietro Maximoff The best brother, a good friend and the bravest Avenger. We will always carry you in our hearts.

The plaque was right in the middle of the Pond where the fish were swimming peacefully. It was written in Sokovian. “Wanda, I know that the biggest mistakes I've ever made in my life have destroyed much of yours, and nothing can compensate for that, and I can't make you forgive me. I did this for you and for Quicki as a peace offering, I want you to know that if there is anything in my hands that I can do to help you get ahead and that you are happy, I will not think twice.” And suddenly Wanda came up to him and hugged him. It was a hug not very long but quite reassuring for Tony, it was not the emotion of the moment: Wanda no longer hated him. “We all make decisions Tony, you took yours, Pietro took his own and now I too, the important thing is do what we think is right. I forgive you in the name of my parents, and now forgive me for putting me in your mind.” Tony nodded. And suddenly between two trees Vision entered the garden giving a smile to Wanda. Tony approached Vision and clapping his shoulder, “thanks buddy.” “You're welcome. All this look great.” “He helped with the translation.” Said Tony this went by the same place where Vision came. “This was your idea?” Asked Wanda “No, actually I just help him with the translation of the plaque, the garden was completely his idea.” “You know sokovian?” Wanda asked sitting on the marble as she patted the place next to her. “I learned.” Vision replied in Sokovian as he sat down beside her. “Sometimes I think that what happened with Pietro was my fault, we had to escape Hydra when they went to rescue the scepter because we have the chance, but I knew it would be a good opportunity to do something to Tony, I got into his head and then he created Ultron and Ultron snatched me my brother. I know Tony didn't want Ultron be what he was and I also know that Pietro decided to cover Clint and that boy, and none of that would have happened if we had left the base when we had that opportunity, I convinced Pietro to stay, is my fault.” Wanda finished sobbing at Vision's shoulder. “All this you say, is the sum of casualties, causalities and possibilities. You could not anticipate the events that happened later. Murphy's law says that what has to happen will happen. By this I also mean that we were all to blame for all the events. After Dr Banner, Thor, Mr Stark and I, attacked Ultron, I had to follow him and destroy him while the others destroyed the others Ultrons. But I focused on not letting them go through the air, a task that was Rhodes, it was not until everything happened that Banner took Ultron out of the quinjet and you found it. What happened was not your fault.” Taking her hand, Vision kissed the back of the hand. “You're always so good and so perfect.” “You are that too.” Vision stood up and stood in front of her, staying at her height as he squatted down. “You know, by my calculations, it's 11:00 pm 19 years ago, 12 minutes after Pietro. Happy birthday Wanda Maximoff.” Wanda stood up and as if foreseeing her next move, he stood up with her and hugged her, Wanda brought her hands to his neck and he rested his hands on her hip, stared at him as he lowered his head to her, she kissed his forehead and then his cheek he didn't close his eyes, he did not want to miss any details of that moment. Wanda laid a hand on her cheek as they both looked at the pond, Tony had worked very well. “I have another gift for you." Vision told her as he handed her an envelope that Wanda hadn’t noticed before. Wanda released him to open the envelope, but Vision still held her in one of his arms. Wanda couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing, she didn't know how, but Vision had gotten a picture of her family and another of Pietro as a baby. “You made me very happy today and this gift is even more perfect, thanks Vizh, for everything.” And she hug him again resting her head on his shoulder. “You're welcome, I will do anything to make you happy.” "Now I know.” Wanda hugged him harder. They spent a few more moments there, each in their thoughts, wishing they had said and done more than they did, but Wanda did not want to be carried away by the emotion of the moment and he did not want to say and do something that the two were going to regret . For now, they just wanted to enjoy the moment. For now it was what they had...

#scarletvisionexchange2017 #sve2017 #Scarlet Witch #Vision #fic #marvel #ScarletWitch/Vision #wanda maximoff/ vision

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