"How It Starts"

By darthelwig


*** I own nothing. I'm just having fun. ***


He watches her. At first, he doesn't know why. What he knows is that his eyes are drawn to her. Wherever she is in the room, he will find her. It's compulsive. Instinctive. Illogical, and yet, he cannot help himself. Her siren call cannot be denied.

He watches her watch the others. Her gaze is wary at first, distrustful. She is not used to trusting anyone but her brother, and without him she is more nervous than she might otherwise be. Cautious. She keeps her own counsel and waits for the betrayal he knows will not come. Not with these people. He wishes to aid her, but knows she would not welcome his advances. Not now. Not yet. She is feral still, and they must tame her with kindness before they can truly help.

He sees her struggle with her grief. He knows of her nightmares and her tears, and the long nights she spends alone in her room missing him. She rarely speaks his name, as if it is too painful to let the words form on her tongue, but he is present in a room whenever she is. His ghost haunts her. She has yet to let him go.

His eye is drawn to her every movement. The Black Widow may be the smooth seductress, but Wanda is grace, not slinky and calculated like Natasha, but fluid and soft. Where the Widow is the picture of control, Wanda is loose and restless. He is fascinated. She does not have the rigid structure that is Natasha's perfect form, but something more freeform and flowing. It is beautiful. She is beautiful.

He has spent long hours contemplating beauty, and the perception of it. He has attempted to understand why it is Wanda he thinks of when he thinks the word. His eyes follow her form, trace the curves of her, so soft and lush. He yearns to run his hands up the seemingly endless length of her legs. She is everything he wants, yet he isn't quite sure what that means.

He is young still, and new. There are reactions in his body that he thought himself incapable of. Reactions to her. He is not some pubescent human boy whose body will betray him, he has more control than that, but the want is still there. The very thought of her is enough to ignite his newfound passion. Being next to her, he burns, in ways he is more and more tempted not to ignore.

Sometimes he thinks he sees a flicker of interest in her eyes, what kind he can't say and tries not to speculate about. It is too much too soon.

He watches her settle into her role, into her newfound family. He offers what support and friendship he can, for whatever it's worth to her, and is gratified when she smiles.

He wishes to be her friend. He wishes to be more. He wishes to be the one she turns to when there are tears in her eyes. He desires her trust, her affection, her touch. And above all else, this is the truth he comes to understand after his long hours of contemplation- he will never escape her pull and he has no desire to try.