Hey suckers! Enjoy some wandanat fluff. You're welcome.
Evergreen eyes and caramel frappuccinos
Wanda's routine was simple. It was as simple as it was repetitive. She wakes up around 3 am. She showers and brushes her teeth, eats sugary cereal and cold milk, then brushes her teeth again. She gets dressed in all black, because it reminded her of her constant state of mind— depressed, dark, moody, sleepy. Pietro liked to joke that she wears her personality. She did indeed. She puts on her trusty eyeliner, and mascara, a dash of lip gloss and some dark eyeshadow, and she's ready for the day.
She doesn't do the dishes and locks her door twice before going out. She walks a few minutes and breathes in the polluted morning Brooklynn air. She takes the subway and disembarks at the 8 Street station. She buys a newspaper, because it's the only open stand at that hour, and it makes her feel less lonely that someone is up as early as her. She then walks to Washington Square Park, even if it's the long way around to get to the Starbucks on 4th street, and crosses it, while reading her newspaper. She throws it in the can in front of her workplace and opens up shop.
She starts brewing the coffee, wiping the counter clean, and prepping cups and cutlery before 4:30 am. Her apron hangs from her neck as a grim reminder that this is her place, always behind the counter, always serving people, never being her own boss. It reminds her that she can't afford college, can barely even afford her apartment if it wasn't for Pietro and that she will never be what she dreams to be. Independent. Educated. An English teacher. She knew that as far as dreams go, hers wasn't as frivolous as others, but she liked it. It was hers. In a world where she only had a few possessions she could truly consider her own, she treasured her dreams more than anything.
That was why she kept her sketchbook close to her at all times. She usually hides it in the pocket of her apron and takes it out during the lazy hours of her shift to draw. She drew customers. She drew their lives as she imagined them to be. She drew her life like she dreamt it to be. She drew herself in their place, typing away on her MacBook, drinking coffee, studying whatever they were studying, speaking on the phone in hushed tones to a loved one, to a wife, to a boss, to employees.
She would imagine a life she'll never have and sigh wistfully.
That day, the other barista, James, arrived 30 minutes after her. He put on his apron and went behind the counter with an easy smile on his face, reserved especially for her. She'll never understand why he so stubbornly wants to be her friend. She was as uninteresting as the next depressed girl.
Still, he took a mug she has been wiping for the last few minutes while lost in thought and tucked it in its place.
"What's up?" He asked smoothly, nodding towards the notebook's outline, visible in her apron's pocket.
James knew about her obsession with people-watching. He knew that she liked to imagine herself in their place. She feared that he would find that weird as fuck in the beginning, but apparently, he found that endearing. He even took to the habit too.
"A business woman today, hopefully, or a student," she shrugged, a bored tone to her voice. That was what she was hoping to become in her imaginary life today.
He nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, today kick starts the semester at NYU. We'll be crowded in a few hours. Hopefully, you'll meet your match."
Wanda hoped so.
The chill September air was kept at bay by the constantly closed doors of the Café. The orange leaves left in the wake of the beginning of fall, those leaves that she loved to play in as a child, were swirling in the air, enjoying their freedom in the cold, empty streets. In a few hours, the New York usual crowd would flood the place, and the leaves would be crushed under their impatient, workaholic boots.
Wanda could relate to those leaves.
James was right. At about 7 am, five college students marched in like they owned the place, dressed in Ugg boots, cute jackets, and beanies.
Wanda gritted her teeth to jail any comment behind them, and smile her best fake smile. She didn't usually have any sorts of murderous thoughts, but 'tis was the season, right?
Those people were painfully privileged. Wanda wanted to murder one of those snobby rich girls and steal her life. She wanted the comfortable looking jacket and the expensive boots. She wanted the liberty and ability to go to college. Too bad she was too dumb for a grant and too scrawny for any sport's scholarship. Maybe if she worked hard enough, she could find a college shitty enough to be affordable to her, but she had lost faith and hope a while ago. She hasn't looked up colleges since.
She served the girls, who went to sit on a table next to a window.
It was a promising start to her shitty day.
It continued on like this for 30 minutes, serving privileged motherfuckers who didn't look at her twice — out of about 15 people, she got 2 thank you's. Wow.
It was at 7:34 am that the bell jingled, signaling the arrival of a new customer.
Wanda's head whipped to the door, and she stood up from where she was sitting, putting on her fake smile, and adjusting her tip jar.
She saw a redhead strut in, a confident air to her. She looked young, as in college student young. She was also the most beautiful human being Wanda has ever seen.
She's had crushes in the past. Oh, so many crushes. They were all usually on better faring people, people who were prone to rejecting her, fearing a gold digger. That was why she's never had a relationship with anyone.
She saw the redhead get in line, playing absentmindedly with a lock of her own hair. She was wearing a buttoned up pea coat that got to her knees, along with dark pants, and combat boots. A thick wooly scarf was draped around her neck, and she looked positively adorable snuggling it. Wanda's heart skipped a beat when the woman got in front of the line— thus in front of her.
Her pale, pristine skin was even more flawless, her nose red from the cold. Her green eyes shone under the Starbucks' artificial lights, and her pink, plump lips stretched into a genuine smile.
Then she said something that Wanda completely missed. She was too busy staring at those totally kissable lips to hear anything the hot stranger had to say.
She blinked twice when she saw the redhead's smile falter for a moment, and snapped back to reality.
"Excuse me- what?" She stuttered, her cheeks going as red as the stranger's nose.
The woman smiled at her softly. "I just said hello."
Oh. Oh.
Wanda's heart stopped. Yeah. Yup, that's it. She's dead. She hoped she could get CPR from this girl though, because hot damn.
Her voice was so melodic that Wanda's smile automatically turned as genuine as the stranger's.
"Oh, um- hi. Welcome to Starbuck. What can I get for you?" Wanda tried her best to sound as unbothered by this person as possible, but it was a complete lie, and she's never been a very good liar.
The stranger's eyes fleeted towards the menu for a quick second, before coming back to Wanda. "A caramel Frappuccino would be perfect, please. Grande, with extra whipped cream."
Wanda nodded dumbly. "Your name?" She asked, taking the designated cup in her hand, and a marker in another. She just hoped she wasn't shaking too much. And that the woman wouldn't notice.
"Natasha."
Natasha… Oh wow. Even her name was beautiful. Wanda blushed slightly at her intrusive thoughts that were screaming at her something that sounded like 'what would happen if you kissed this woman and ran', and scribbled down her name on the cup.
"It'll take a few minutes," Wanda said, gesturing towards the tables.
Natasha nodded again, and, with a small 'thank you' that made Wanda's heart soar, made her way towards a table at the back.
As soon as she was sure the woman wasn't looking, Wanda got to work doodling a cute flower on her cup. She looked like she deserved something like that. Maybe she would go tell her friends that a barista drew her a rose on her cup and actually spelled her name right? Maybe it would make her day? Because she seriously made Wanda's.
A few minutes later, the drink was done, and Natasha made her way to the counter to take it. She flashed a smile at Wanda, and went back to her table, sitting down and continuing to read whatever book Wanda hadn't noticed she was even holding— mainly because she was too busy staring at the sway of her long, wavy flaming hair.
Wanda's eyes didn't leave her for a few minutes, waiting for her to notice the flower. She never did.
With a dejected look on her face, she served a few more clients before Natasha —it felt so good, knowing her name. It was rolling around Wanda's mind so naturally, like its place has always been in there— got up, threw her cup in the trash, and approached the counter with that soft smile playing on her lips.
"The flower was adorable, thank you," she whispered, her eyes boring into Wanda's with warmth and affection, and the barista melted under her gaze.
Natasha then proceeded to take out a 100 bucks from her purse and put them in Wanda's tip jar.
The barista couldn't believe her eyes.
The redhead flashed her another quick smile before the door's bell jingled, and she disappeared into the sea of people outside.
The person who was standing first in line grumbled 'rich white girls who throw money like it doesn't mean anything' was what made Wanda snap out of her reverie.
No way. No way, that person just left her a hundred dollars, just like that.
She quickly fished the bill from the jar, and bolted from around the counter, quickly yelling at James to handle the cash register.
The cold, biting New York wind slapped her cheeks as soon as she made it outside and instantly made her regret not wearing her coat before dashing after Natasha. But she couldn't waste a second. She could lose her in the crowd and never see her again.
That thought scared Wanda and shook her to her core, but she elected to ignore it. She had to find her and return the money. It has to be a mistake. Wanda was certain that a normal person in their right mind would never tip a hundred fucking dollars. Natasha probably didn't notice that she tipped that much. Wanda couldn't have that on the conscience. She felt like she had basically stolen the money.
With the cash weighing more in her heart than in her hand, she ran in the direction she saw Natasha take a minute ago.
She ran for what felt like hours, even though it was just a couple of minutes. She finally saw a flash of red in a sea of blacks and blonds and dashed towards it.
She caught the redhead's arm, breathing heavily. She was seriously out of shape. She really should consider enrolling in a gym— like she could afford it. Maybe she could take up running? Yeah, that sounded like a better idea.
Natasha turned around when she felt Wanda grip her arm. A look of pleasant surprise crossed her face, and she took out her earphones from her ears.
"Hey- uh, I think you made a mistake," Wanda deadpanned, shoved the bill into the redhead's hands, and took off running in the opposite direction.
'Way to go Wanda. You could've asked for her number, or like, I don't know, her last name? Stupid, stupid-'
"WAIT! WAIT, NO!"
The scream made Wanda pause, and turn around with a dumbfounded air to her.
"What?"
"Why did you give it back?" Natasha asked, jogging towards where Wanda was standing.
The barista was flustered, to say the least. From the run, and the beautiful, sparkling green eyes that were focused on her, contrasting so heavily with the earthy tones of Fall.
"Because… it's a hundred bucks?" Wanda stated though it sounded more like a question. Wasn't it very obvious?
"Yeah, I know," Natasha raised an eyebrow. Then, she seemed to understand Wanda's struggle. "Oh, you thought- No, it wasn't a mistake. I meant to tip that much," she said, with a soft smile on her lips, wrapping her gloved hands around her arms. Her smile turned uncertain at Wanda's jaw drop.
Let's just say the other girl was almost choking on her own spit.
What the actual fuck?
"What?"
Natasha frowned, her weight shifting from one foot to another. Her eyes weren't meeting Wanda's anymore. "I just wanted- I felt like thanking you. You made my day with that flower."
"So you tip me one hundred dollars?" Wanda crossed her arms, fully comprehending that she's talking with the woman she will be daydreaming about for the next few months. Fuck, she's so far gone already.
"It's not a big deal for me, really," Natasha stated with another shrug, her eyes still trained to the ground. "I'm… well off. I wanted to help."
Wanda would normally be boiling with anger at that point. A rich white girl throwing away her money like it didn't mean a thing. But Natasha… Natasha seemed genuine. She seemed to really want to help Wanda. The barista searched the redhead's eyes for a while, looking for traces of pity. She found none.
"Please, keep it." Natasha handed her the bill, which she took with a little bit— ok, a lot of shock.
"Th-thank you…?"
Natasha's eyes finally came up to Wanda's face, knocking the air out of her lungs. Then, she just smiled, turned around, and continued walking towards wherever she was going.
Only when the mesmerizing eyes weren't trained on her, did she feel that her heart had been beating frantically the whole time she was talking with the other woman.
Well… Shit.
Yep. That was it. Prepare for a fluff storm.
Review please :3 tell me if I should continue ;)