A/N: There's a lot of same-ish versions of Ian and Wanda's first time, so I wanted to try something slightly different. Many thanks to philyra-dreamhouse for the pre-read/beta. All the usual disclaimers apply.

Vertigo

Earth is a small planet in comparison to many she's lived on, but after weeks underground, Wanderer can't imagine anything bigger than the Arizona desert as it stretches out endlessly before them.

It's late spring and the rains have finally passed. The caves are spacious again, the air slightly less humid. But even before she arrived on Earth, Wanda was always an outdoorsy soul, and after being cooped up for so long, she felt restless and claustrophobic behind walls. So here she is now, on her first night alone with Ian, standing in the desert in the dead of night, wrapped in one of the many blankets he insisted they take with them, and breathing in the fresh outside air.

She reaches for his hand. She'd wanted to come out here earlier. It's their first night after all, and she can hardly breathe with anticipation. If it weren't for my restlessness, she thinks, Ian and I would already be in our room, finally free from prying eyes. But they'd talked to Jeb and he'd asked them to wait until the sun had set before venturing outside. It was still dangerous to wander the desert during the day.

Ian's fingers stroke hers, gentle as a breeze on her skin. She briefly wonders if Ian has been as impatient for tonight as she has. Perhaps he begrudged her this moment under the stars. But she chases the thought away quickly. Ian would never begrudge her anything. A swell of affection bubbles up from her stomach to her chest, only increasing her anticipation and nervousness. She squeezes Ian's hand, mimicking the tightening feeling in her stomach and he looks down at her with a soft smile. Oh, I love that smile.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks.

She grins up at him. "No deal. You know money's been obsolete for years."

Ian protests half-heartedly through his laughter, but she ignores him, tugging him further until they reach a gently sloping hill. He stops there, throws his armful of blankets on the ground, and slumps back onto the desert floor, sprawling out in the dust and rocks. He looks right at home, and Wanda can't help but laugh, remembering the first time she saw him sleeping spread-eagled in his – their – room. She sits down, watching him as he watches the sky. The stars are indifferent to their presence, and although she knows this frightens many of her human friends, it comforts her. She wouldn't want to share moments like these with anyone but Ian.

Almost as if he knows her thoughts after all, Ian tugs her closer. "This used to terrify me," he says wistfully, and she looks up at him, curious. "When I was a kid," he clarifies, "there was a hill outside our house. Kyle and I used to lie down on the slope and tilt our heads back to watch the stars. Except one night, I lay down in the wrong direction – headfirst – and when I looked up at the sky… well, the horizon seemed to disappear. There was no ground beneath me and the sky was all I could see – just stars, everywhere. And for the first time I realised just how small and… well, how insignificant I really was."

Wanda pulls back to look at him. Ian, whom no one could ever call small. "You're not insignificant," she hears herself say fiercely. Her own tone surprises her; Pet's soft voice is not used to being raised in protest. But although she may not believe in Walter's fairy tales of a higher power, Wanda can't see how humans could ever believe that the lack of a greater plan could negate the importance of a single person's existence. She knows without a doubt that no matter how beautiful Earth is, she could never love a world without Ian in it. The stars may be indifferent to Ian, but in her eyes, he outshines all of them.

She tries to explain this to him and he squeezes her hand, grinning. "It doesn't scare me anymore," he says. "You want to try it?"

"Try what?" she asks with a frown of confusion.

He kisses her ever so gently, his lips barely brushing hers. "Falling through the sky," he whispers against her cheek.

He kneels then, turning his back on the slope and motioning for her to do the same. She does, even though the gentle slope behind them suddenly makes her nervous for reasons she cannot identify. But Ian is there. Comforted by his presence, she closes her eyes and lies back.

When she opens her eyes, the universe rushes forward to greet them.

For a single moment, all she can see is darkness. And then she feels it: that dizzy, heady rush of vertigo as the ground seems to fall away beneath her and the sky looms up above, ready to engulf her body completely. She can't help but gasp, clutching at the blanket and sand and stones, desperate to take comfort in the Earth beneath her. But even as the stones crumble under her palms, she barely feels them there. She is swimming with the stars. Weightless. Bodiless. Floating through a billion stars, drifting through galaxies no human or soul has ever visited. Her eyes are insufficient; for a split second, she wishes she were a spider again, so that she could take in everything around her. As it is, in this position, all she sees with her two eyes is the endlessness of space as it stretches out before her in every direction.

And stars. Stars everywhere, blinding her with their brilliance. She searches for the brightest star, trying futilely to find a world as beautiful as this one.

"Ian," she says, her voice awestruck and breathless. "You were right. I'm falling."

Ian laughs softly beside her and she lifts her head. It feels impossible at first to tear her eyes away from the sky, but then she sees him and it's as if gravity returns. Head still spinning, she sits up and curls into his side.

"That was…" she whispers, but no words can describe it. She's travelled through those stars eight times in cryo without sparing them more than a passing thought afterwards, and yet, lying on a rocky hill and experiencing a simple sensation easily explained by human physics can take her breath away.

"I understand now," she says. "It felt as though the universe could sweep me away at any moment. It made me feel so… human."

He reaches forward and tucks a loose curl of blonde hair behind her ear. "You're the most human person I've ever known," he tells her. And then his mouth is on hers and she feels as if she's looking up at the stars again. Weightless. Infinite.

And she's falling, but Ian is there, supporting her as she lies back against the desert floor.

"Wanda," he breathes. His blue eyes are alight and burning into hers. She can't remember exactly how they ended up in this position, but his body is pressed against hers and despite the cool night air she feels warm all over. Her nervousness is gone. Just an hour ago she had felt confined and restless, but now, in his arms, she has never felt so free.

"Here," she says and she knows that he understands her meaning from the way his eyes darken. She reaches up to touch his cheek, admiring the sharp planes of his face, almost pure white in the starlight. She rakes her fingers through his thick dark hair and watches in fascination as he groans and lets his eyes flutter shut.

He trails work-roughened fingers down her side and she shivers at the sensation. Like molten rock, his touch leaves her skin smarting in its wake. His hand slips down to her waist and he hesitates.

"We could go back to our room," he says in a low voice, but it's a half-hearted suggestion. She knows that he feels the warmth between them too, and neither one of them really wants to waste time walking back to the caves where they might be overheard.

"I want you," she says, her voice surprisingly steady even as her heart pounds erratically in her chest. Ian and Mel have taught her to voice what she wants, and there's nothing she wants more than this. "I want to be your partner. Right now."

"You already are," he whispers into her hair. Then Ian's lips are on hers again. He hasn't kissed her this desperately since the night she tried to leave, and her new body responds much more eagerly than Mel's had then. He pulls away only to trail more kisses down her chin and across her throat. She gasps, clutching the hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the sensation of his lips and tongue and teeth against her skin.

His hands trail lower, finding bare skin beneath her shirt. She shivers, then helps him pull the thin material over her head. When it's discarded, he pulls her up and she finds herself sitting in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

This isn't the first time they've found themselves in a similar position, but tonight they don't have to stop for fear of being interrupted. The thought makes Wanda shiver, and some of the lust fades from Ian's snow blue eyes as they search hers in concern. His hands reach towards the blankets.

"I'm fine," she says, before he can ask. His neck is inches from her lips and she reaches forward instinctively, kissing the skin there. Whatever Ian was about to say dies in his throat as he swallows a choking moan and tugs her closer with his hands pressed flat against her back, warming her in a way no one else could.

She wants to press her palms against his back too. She tears her lips away from his skin and tugs his shirt up. Ian pulls away long enough for her to rid him of the dirt-stained t-shirt before tugging her closer again. He presses his lips to hers once, twice and then pulls back with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Wanda asks. Before she can help it, a million doubts rise to the surface of her mind. Ian's hand, reaching up to cup her cheek tenderly, brushes them away.

"Wanda, I want this. I want to be with you," he begins. "Believe me; right now I want that more than anything. But I – uh – I didn't exactly come out here prepared for this." He smiles sheepishly.

"Oh." She can't help the giggle that escapes as she grasps his meaning. She remembers Mel and Jared having to wait for the same reason, and it strikes her as ironically fortuitous that she and Ian should have the same problem now.

"We can go back to the caves," he says again. His fingers trace her curves, one hand trailing sparks across her skin. "Or… we could continue, but take things slowly."

She scrunches up her nose at that suggestion. "Slowly?" she asks. She can hardly stand the thought. They've waited long enough already.

Ian laughs at her expression and leans in to kiss her nose. "Slow can be good," he explains in a low voice that sends more shivers down her spine. "Think of it as build-up to the main event. We have all the time in the world. And there's so much I want to do with you. To you." He stops to kiss her; her mouth moves instinctively against his for a long while. When they part she can scarcely remember what they were discussing before. "Will you let me spoil you tonight?" he whispers.

Part of her wants to protest; she wants this night to be satisfying for Ian, too. But a larger part understands that this is something they both want. She remembers the stolen moments of intimacy Mel and Jared shared in their cabin and trembles at the thought of experiencing that with Ian.

"Yes," she whispers into his neck. "Yes, I would like that very much."

"Good." And his voice is a near growl.

His lips find hers again, and then they are kissing her chin and her throat and the nape of her neck. Her eyes flutter closed as the heat of his kisses intensify and he lays her down on the makeshift bed of blankets. His kisses move to her shoulder, and when he slides down the strap of her bra she hastens to remove it.

"Wanda." His fingers are there, stilling hers. She looks up and his eyes are wide and honest. "You don't have to –"

"Hush." She kisses him again, threading the fingers of her free hand through his thick black curls. "I want to."

She finally feels the chill of the night air as she lets her bra slide away. But then Ian lets out a muffled oath and his hands are on her again, each brush of his fingers lighting bonfires under the surface of her skin. She's always felt so tiny beside him in this body, but tonight she's grateful for it. His arms slide around her and the cool breeze disappears.

"My God, Wanda." His voice is rough and guttural and just the sound of it causes a familiar sense of urgency and anticipation to settle in her abdomen. "You are so perfect." He brushes a wayward lock of hair from her shoulder and meets her eyes. "A beautiful host for a beautiful soul. It's like you were made for this body alone."

Her heart swells. It feels that way for her, too. This body belongs to her in a way that no other body ever has. It may be small and frail but it is a perfect fit, and whenever Ian is close, sparks seem to fly between this body and his. Right now the heat of those sparks is almost unbearable.

His hands find her breasts, cupping them cautiously. And then his kisses dip past her shoulders and his lips and tongue replace his fingers. It feels so good, so unlike anything else she's ever experienced in this body, and she gasps, gripping his hair with one hand while the other traces invisible lines across his back. After a few minutes – or hours – his mouth leaves her breasts, travelling lower.

Ian, she thinks. His name is like a mantra in her head. Oh, Ian, my Ian –

"Yes," he whispers against the bare skin of her stomach. "Yours. Always yours."

She hadn't been aware that she was speaking out loud, but now she finds it impossible to stop. His lips are on her stomach and his hands are drifting up the sides of her legs, slipping under her skirt. "Please," she begs, hardly aware anymore of what it is she's asking for but desperate to keep the fire she feels from burning out.

"Shh," he says. He glances up and she sees the fire she feels reflected in those burning blue eyes. "Just lay back and let me make you feel good."

He distances himself from her for just long enough to slide her cotton panties down her legs. And then his fingers slide back up, gently trailing over the burning heat between her legs and she can't control the whimpers that escape her lips. His eyes darken when he hears her, and he brushes his fingers experimentally back and forth.

"Good or bad?" he whispers as she cranes her head up to meet him. His finger shift a little and the impossible pleasure she feels increases.

He's smiling playfully, waiting for her answer, but she can't speak or think; all she can do is lay back and feel him, lost to sensations he's providing. Ian, her Ian, who understands this body and its responses as if they were his own. His shoulder is resting against her cheek and she turns her head to kiss his bare skin again and again, kisses which turn abruptly to gasps as his fingers ease their way inside her.

She can barely think straight, and yet she is conscious of everything; the rocky ground beneath her, the rough, warm blankets against her back, the breeze on her chest, and Ian's body hovering over hers, sheltering her from the cold. How strange, that her body could have such a profound effect on her mind. She's so used to separating what she thinks and feels, and yet this pleasure is transforming her from within, affecting her very soul and moulding her into something new.

Ian curls his fingers and the sensation causes her to clutch at his shoulders, drawing him closer to her. Their eyes meet – his look startlingly black in the darkness – before their mouths crush together clumsily. His thumb brushes her ever-so-gently in just the right place, causing her to let out a startled cry against his mouth. And then it happens. She closes her eyes and pulls back to whisper his name between gasps for breath as, for the second time that night, she feels herself falling through the sky. But this time she is not alone; she clings to Ian as he guides her through the stars and eases her back down to Earth.

"Good or bad?" Ian asks her with a teasing smile when her eyes finally flutter open.

"I was drifting through the stars," she exclaims breathlessly. "Oh, Ian, they were so bright I didn't even have to open my eyes to see them."

Ian lets out a laugh like a bear as he rolls them, tugging her half on top of him and pulling one of the blankets over her back.

"I adore you," he says, his words muffled by her blonde curls.

"I love you," she replies giddily as she traces nonsensical words on his chest. From her memories, she knows that Melanie always felt tired after her lovemaking with Jared, but Wanda feels oddly alert and refreshed, as if she could run back to the caves and spend an hour ploughing the fields. She tells Ian this and he laughs.

"You're not going anywhere," he says, hugging her tighter. "The fields can wait until tomorrow."

"There is something else I'd like to do tonight," she says, suddenly shy again.

"Anything you want," he murmurs, hands tracing the curves of her hips.

She sits up. The blanket is still wrapped around her shoulders as she slides down his body to straddle his legs, and moves to unbutton his jeans. Ian's expression is comical. "Wanda –" he begins. His hands reach for hers, but she pushes them away.

"Hush now," she says with a smile. "This is what I want. Just let me do this for you."

He doesn't protest after that. She moves forward and tugs the last of his clothing down impatiently. She realises belatedly that they're both still wearing shoes and for some reason this strikes her as hilarious. She leans back, overcome by giggles.

"Wanda?" Ian's voice is cautious, ever-so-slightly self-conscious. She bends down to stroke his cheek. "It's nothing," she tells him, smiling. She'll explain later. "I'm just happy. I'm so happy." She laughs again, giddy with joy at being here with him. Laughter is impossible to escape in this body, especially when she's this close to Ian. She leans back again, trailing her fingertips down his chest.

He groans and flops back onto the desert floor when she first wraps her small hand around him. It doesn't take long for her to figure out what he likes. Neither of them is inexperienced – thanks to Mel's memories she knows exactly what to do – but this is still new for her and she's thankful that Ian is so vocal in his pleasure, letting her know that she's doing well. He murmurs her name and thrusts his hips up, arching into her hand as she increases her pace, and when he comes he lets out a guttural cry that she feels reverberate through her very bones.

She crawls back up his body as he catches his breath, draping the blanket back over both of them. "Good or bad?" she whispers to him as she tucks her face into the nape of his neck, and although the words are a joke between them now, part of her is legitimately wondering.

"Better than good," he whispers back. "A thousand times better than good. Wanda, my Wanda." His voice is low and breathless and so quiet that she can barely hear him over the whistle of the wind. "My Wanda, my soul."

His mouth meets hers and their arms wrap around each other for another long, languid kiss that leaves her burning as molten rock flows beneath her veins once more.

They re-dress quickly as the heat between them begins to fade and the chill of the night makes itself known. Ian wraps her in two layers of blankets, but when he attempts to lift her to her feet, she tugs him back down.

"Just a little while longer," she protests, burying her face in the warmth of his neck once more.

Ian lies back down without hesitation, and begins to point out the stars to her – constellations she's passed through many times, but never really seen, at least not from a human perspective. She sees a bear and a hunter and laughs when Ian tries to convince her that a wiggly W-shape is actually a Greek queen trapped forever in the sky. Eventually he succumbs to sleep at her side and she tucks her head into his neck again, sleepy and satisfied and content to stay there forever, lying beside her partner on the desert plains, and staring up at the universe in all its glorious indifference.