Had Pietro been around, Wanda would have sought his advice. She knew exactly how it would have went — it hadn't been the first time she'd glimpsed into the mind of a boy with a crush on her. Pietro would have told her, "Well, it's going to be awkward now, knowing what he thinks of you when you're queued up for lunch or something. Try not to let him know you can do this, sister, it'll just be a world of pain letting anyone in who couldn't possibly understand."

Or, perhaps, it could have been advice tinged with Pietro's telltale jealousy, "He's not worth your presence in his dreams anyway. Boys are only after one thing, Wanda, don't get suckered in by the sweet talk."

Vision wasn't a boy, though.

Not the teenage boys from Sokovia whom Wanda had cautiously experimented with, both in mind and body — may Pietro forgive her one day for the lies she spun to steal moments away with a boyfriend here and there. Relationships were always so short-lived. They were always, always running. She learned early in life not to get attached.

The only constant in her life was and always would be Pietro.

Except now, it wasn't.

Now, these Avengers, these kind people fighting on the side of life, these were her family. They were her new constant.

And she was all of too afraid to become attached to any one of them just to be stripped of them as she had been of her brother.

"Training is going to become awkward, knowing the way he wants to kiss you. Knowing how he probably thinks of you every time he remembers that smut he saw on the television." Pietro would have told her. Sometimes Wanda was so sure Pietro was still there in her mind, his voice jutting in with cautionary advice against trusting Vision's increasingly evident crush.

Training passed day by day. It was increasingly difficult not to linger on the sensation of their touch, of their sparring, of the feeling where their bodies collided in practiced conflict. It was becoming impossible not to notice how quickly Vision came to her side, even from across the training field it seemed, when she as much as fell or tripped over a moment of clumsiness or a blow from Natasha that had all but leveled her.

It was hard not to crave the memorized sound of his breaths when he stood behind her. He was always gone when she turned—but she amusedly knew she wasn't imagining things.

"He talks about you a lot, you know," Clint said once, a stun-based arrow fixed on Vision. Wanda kept careful watch over her teammate, playing sentinel to Clint's sniper.

"Who?"

Clint chuckled, "You know who. Big Red. El luchador roja mística. Tell me I'm not the only one who thinks he looks like a luchador, by the way."

Wanda laughed quietly and shook her head, "I don't even know what that is."

"Ah, whatever. He watches out for you. Always has. Even on the first day. Heads up, but I think our android friend has a crush." Clint said, drawing the arrow back.

Wanda was well aware of this already, thinking back to the tender caresses Vision stole from her doppelganger. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to prod this sleeping thing. Curiosity was welling within her. But after Pietro, Wanda mused, she wasn't sure just how close she wanted to get to anyone again. Not even that blissfully romantic "robot" as others called him.

"Leave him to his dreams," Wanda answered, "There are more important things at stake."

Releasing the arrow, Clint glanced back to Wanda over his shoulder. She heard Sam shriek from somewhere below—"nailed me in the ass!"—a blunt tip that would leave him incapacitated with one hell of a dead leg for a time.

"You're a tougher cookie than I thought, kid." Clint said.

Wanda didn't answer, still keeping her eyes out for any trace of their opponents finding their location. Clint gathered his things to move to their next point and Wanda followed.

"Y'know, we live the kind of lives that… honestly, kid, could end at any moment. We live in the moment. The moment's all we got. I mean…" Clint paused as they passed a window in the derelict building they crossed through. He gestured out to Vision far out in the field caught in battle with Steve and assisting soldiers on Steve's "blue team." Clint made a motion with his hand that Wanda couldn't quite translate.

"I mean… he's… all muscley and kind of. I dunno, that thing you young women are into these days. A little sunburnt, maybe, but… y'know, he's… ah, nevermind, don't let me meddle, here. I've been listening to Vision and Nat talking about existentialism and weird romanticism too long." Clint shrugged and continued leading the way.

Wanda simply laughed, "…does he really talk about me that much?"

"He doesn't shut up about you, kid."

"He's nice, but a little young for me." Wanda replied.

Clint laughed.

She spent the rest of that afternoon quietly probing Clint's memories for what he overhead Natasha and Vision discussing. She was pleasantly surprised at how accurate Clint was in saying, "He doesn't shut up about you."

They were well into autumn by this time since their coming together.

May, June, July…

She had known this new family for a little over five months now. Time really did move quickly during times of peace intermingled with occasional missions here and there. After Sokovia, the tasks the Avengers took on felt more like glorified delivery services or babysitting important heads in transit. For the first time, she really felt she could begin closing the distance she had placed between herself and the others.

With the end of October in New York, Wanda was reminded that Halloween was a thing in the states. Holidays like that were often forgotten in Sokovia—and scarcely remembered by Wanda, who hadn't the time to think about festivities or holidays since the time her family was alive. The team had settled into the Avengers Tower back in the city for that weekend. Life couldn't all be training and stress testing, Steve had said.

"Alright kids, Uncle Tony's going to show you guys how to party like Avengers." Stark had announced on Saturday evening.

A Halloween party.

It almost felt juvenile to think of. Such luxuries were so far out of her past life that she wasn't sure howto settle in with the team like a normal human.

But the team took up the challenge with childlike eagerness. No matter how old anyone was, taking up costumes for fun was a delight, Sam had told her after coming out of his quarters with a cheap and frilly mardi gras mask. Even Natasha had stepped out in a very American, 1940s ensemble, complete with a small hat and black, veil of netted fabric hiding her face, and a long cigarette holder pursed between her lips.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Clint had asked her.

"Janet Snakehole. A very rich widow with a terrible secret." Natasha answered. There was a reference there that was lost on Wanda.

Vision was nowhere to be seen in the hours leading up to the party.

Wanda had thought to spend the evening relaxing in her quarters with books rather than deafen herself in the music and overflow of partygoers' thoughts. It was only when she had made her way through the halls, into an elevator that she was stopped by a particular costume.

The elevator had opened to a man she had never seen before. Tall, blonde, with angular features and a terribly casual suit. Wanda stepped into the elevator without a second thought, pressing the button for her floor and settling into the silence. When the elevator moved, she made a double take at the man beside her.

"…Viszh?"

"Yes?" Vision's voice came.

Another look and Wanda felt foolish for not recognizing his face sooner.

Gone was the scarlet skin and intricate patterns webbing his face. The infinity stone was hidden under a ballcap and his eyes were hidden under a pair of aviator sunglasses. Wanda looked him over once again and began to grin, laughing quietly, "…you're…"

She took in the sight and irony of it all — a synethetic man going to a halloween party as a human.

"You're dressed like a tourist…" Wanda laughed.

Still staring at her, without reaction, Vision's clothes seemed to blur and reform into something else. The sort of suit she had seen Tony wearing once. Far too formal to match the baseball cap and glasses.

"Will this suffice?"

Wanda shook her head, her face still stuck in a warm smile, "It was fine… it's a costume. There are no rules."

"No rules." Vision repeated, before the changing act happened again. In the blink of an eye he wore Steve's blue and star-spangled suit.

Wanda was again amused by this and sighed, "He… might make you change. But for what it's worth… it looks better on you."

The elevator came to a stop on a floor between their beginning and her destination. The doors opened to Maria Hill and Dr. Cho discussing something of clearly the utmost importance. Cho stopped when she saw Vision not just with very human skin, but donning the suit of Captain America.

"…Vision?" Cho said, startled.

"Oh, Steve is going to love that." Maria laughed.

"This is far too much attention." Vision said quickly, pressing hard, a random button and bringing the doors to a close before the women entered. Again, the elevator was moving, with just the two of them.

Wanda had never seen Vision react so quickly, so… sheepishly. So he got shy here and there after all. As he pulled his hand back from the panel, his suit once again changed back to the casual set Wanda had walked in on. Curiosity was getting to her—he kept the hat and sunglasses throughout it all (even over Captain America's mask) and she wondered if he was unable to disguise the infinity stone, or the unique patterns in his irises.

As she leaned closer, trying to get a better look, she took note of the way Vision's fair skin began to take on a more scarlet hue, starting at the ears.

Is he blushing?

"It's alright. I never liked when too many people put their attention on me, either."

"…it's… normal, right?"

Wanda shrugged, "As normal as we could possibly be."

A smile crept on Vision's face as he looked her way. Gentle, grateful. Reassured.

"Will you be there? At this party…" Vision asked.

Although Wanda had hardly planned on it, she got the sense that he would find comfort in her presnce. So she nodded and answered, "I will."

With a relieved breath, Vision's smile became more confident, "It may not be so awful, then, Miss Maximoff."

They reached the main lounge floor. Vision's stop. Wanda decided it would be her stop, as well.

Stark pulled out all the stops with his partying—good music, costumed guests, expensive drinks and food. She kept to the outskirts of the festivities, preferring not to be at the epicenter of such a loud web of drunk minds.

"It's the first time we've all really gotten together like this since before, y'know… Ultron." Clint had said to her at one point. Wanda watched Clint keep his careful eyes on Natasha as he continued, "We're missing someone."

Wanda was never on the best terms with Banner. While she understood the team's attachment and concern for him, she hadn't known him and still didn't care to know him or know of him. Things were peaceful. Clint snuck away toward Natasha, meeting her at the bar amidst the small sea of partiers.

Wanda snuck across the edges of the party, choosing a quiet place at a balcony and watching the city lights instead. Her mind was wandering back to Vision, to the way he levitated and observed the city lights in his first moments of existence. She saw only minor beauty in the cityscape. Whatever it was he saw entranced him. She had yet to quite understand Vision's fascination with man.

Glancing back into the party, she watched him converse easily among their teammates. He smiled easily, joked often. He was all dry wit and scathing intellect when she watched him converse from afar. There were times he did remind her of his progenitor, Ultron, in how quick their minds worked. As prone to poetics as Vision was (not unlike Thor) she had caught him throwing some brutal banter over the comm during missions — he said things that could make people laugh. Things that could make her laugh.

He turned her way, as though he knew right where she stood, a whole room and sea of bodies away.

For a beat, she did not hear the banter and chatter of guests. She did not hear the music. Nor did Wanda see the flashing lights over on the small dance floor set up in the lounge suite. There was only Vision, there in his human skin, his costume. His gaze fixed unwaveringly on her, and she on him. She thought back to his touch from the dreams, his fascination with the waves of her hair. The sound of his breath shivering under a pounding heart.

In a moment, his attention was pulled away, Tony throwing an arm around him (as best he could, being so much shorter than Vision) and leading him away. Wanda felt herself frown, ever so slightly. She remained outside a while longer, until the guests cleared out and the party's numbers fell down to those she knew. When she stepped into the suite, she was met with the sound of her teammate's laughter. Stories shared, recalling the "shit talking" over the comm during missions, and a particularly riveting story about Clint and Natasha escorting an agent in Bolivia only to find out that said agent had been one of Maria's own, putting them through a sort of examination the entire time.

Vision had fallen quiet through it all, always choosing more to listen to others' stories and drinking in their experiences. He sat alone near the edge of the team's circle, somewhere between Rhodey and Natasha.

Natasha watched Wanda step in and with a nod of her head, motioned for Wanda to "come here." Wanda glimpsed the proximity to Vision and hesitantly made her way to Natasha's side. Wanda listened to Natasha's commentary of Clint's "awful storytelling" pointing out where "it wasn't like that at all" but still laughing at their fond shared moments.

The team laughed together, drank together—she even watched Clint and Tony engage Vision in a "shot battle" that seemed to have no effect on their opponent. Yet despite it all, Wanda still watched from the outside. Parties drained her. She wanted nothing more than the comfort of a soft bed and the embrace of sleep.

She excused herself quietly, ready to turn in for the night, she said. The team bid her a good night—drunken, "Bye Wanda," "G'night, Wanda," "Nighty, sweetheart," "Night, kid!", "Bye, Felicia," "TONY."

It was when she made her way through the building's long corridors that she sensed another familiar, all too welcome presence.

"…Viszh?" Wanda stopped, finally, looking around.

Vision made his entrance into the hallway, phasing clumsily through a wall and stumbling for balance. She reached out, catching him as he straightened up.

"Viszh, are you alright?"

"I-I'm quite alright, thank you, Miss Maximoff. I… I felt rude letting you see yourself off alone like this." Vision answered, the faintest trace of a slur in his words. Wanda eyed him for a moment before soft laughter followed. Tony had gotten Vision drunk.

"Viszh… I'm alright. But I'm not sure you're alright. You've never had alcohol before, have you?" Wanda said.

Vision's motions were fluid as he leaned and looked elseward and then back to her, actually laughing, "No, no I haven't. I have… have not. It is fascinating. I feel quite wonderful, although occasionally I cranberry the wrong word for some reason."

Wanda quirked an eyebrow, "What?"

"Did I… did I do it again?"

"You need to sleep it off." Wanda said, finding herself leading the way. Vision followed with a few steps before suddenly dropping through the floor for a moment—but quickly steadying himself back up to Wanda's side. Wanda laughed it off with a tired sigh. It almost reminded her of the times she guided a drunken Pietro home from the bar. She had missed holding a warm, comfortably drunk body beside her, trusting each other, leading the way. She missed Pietro.

She lead Vision to his room—it was the first time she had set foot there, and yet it was as familiar as a second home to her after so many weeks of hiding in his dreams and mind. Everything about it was so very clean and untouched, save for a growing collection of books on the shelves, the desk and an endtable. She marveled at just how many books he had accumulated for a moment and then guided Vision's cumbersome, wiry body onto his bed.

"There. Now try not to phase through your bed and wake up downstairs, Viszh." Wanda said. She hesitated before turning to take her leave.

Vision's hand rose up to Wanda's arm, a gentle touch she hadn't realized she craved. She put a hand over his and patted it gently, "Get some sleep."

"Will I dream? If I slept like this?" Vision asked.

Wanda made a shrugging motion, "Perhaps… sometimes I dream when I pass out drunk… sometimes I don't. Sometimes I wake up with a headache."

"I've never slept… without dreaming. I-I'm a bit afraid of that. I've… never truly been unconscious before in that sense. Even closing my eyes, there was always… always something. Now I simply fear I've poisoned myself."

Wanda laughed. Vision watched her, a cautious, but confused-looking smile in response, before he chuckled in uncertainty.

"What…?" Vision asked.

"You are making too big of a fuss. There is no need to be afraid of a little alcohol… you'll be fine… you're just a little drunk." Wanda reached up, taking off the baseball cap and tossing it aside. She gently removed the sunglasses he'd somehow managed to wear all evening.

Despite his wispy blonde hair, the infinity stone was still very much there on his forehead, unable to be hidden no matter Vision's efforts. His eyes, gazing up at her with dewy, childlike wonder, were the same blue, carved with intricate patterns. His human disguise was quite breathtaking, Wanda mused, looking over his features as he fixed his gaze on her own.

But she found herself very much missing the scarlet skin and all it's designs, the muscle tissue-like stretches of flesh intermingled with a vibranium exoskeleton. She was thinking back on his bare form she had first seen, the very moment they met. How afraid of him she had been back then—how much she missed his unearthly form when presented with such an unsuspecting-looking man.

"You going to sleep in that thing?" Wanda asked playfully.

"Wha…?" Vision replied, before realizing what she meant, "…oh… Oh, right."

In an instant, his skin and features faded back to the crimson Wanda remembered.

Perhaps in his mild stupor, he hadn't meant to take it all off, however… he did. Wanda kept her face straight as she tried her damnedest not to look down.

"…Yep, he just got naked…" Wanda thought, unsure if there was a hint of irritation with how inopportune his drunkeness was or with her own sudden overwhelming shyness.

Doing her best to focus on his sleepy eyes, Wanda stroked his face lovingly, the way she always had for Pietro as he drifted off into drunk slumber.

"Don't look at it, don't look at it, that's incredibly rude, don't look at it." Her superego drilled—unabashedly, there was the faintest trace of id in her mind answering, "I want to look."

"Go to sleep, you idiot." Wanda gave Vision a gentle push and he fell backward onto his bed, falling easily into sleep. She snuck out quickly, trying her best to brush off what she had very nearly glimpsed, continuing to chastise herself—it was rude.

At least he was safely asleep and in his own bed.

Once she reached her own, bed, Wanda mused, she could continue to keep an eye on him. Just in case he didn't dream. Or in case he dreamt too much.

The latter wound up being the case. The presence of his dreaming state was like a psychic pulse only she could hear—if it had been a sound, it'd have been deafening. His mind had let go of all it's order and all of his mind's walls seemed to dissolve in his drunken fugue. When he dreamt through his intoxication, he dreamt in vivid, lucid form. Wanda saw all of their recent surroundings take form around her. His dreams were no longer just fleeting sensations and memorized sounds and scents. His dreams were becoming worlds crafted with far more craftsmanship than the dreams of any other human mind she'd slinked around in.

"I am here."

She sensed, she felt his voice forming those words, like many echoes from all around her, coming together at some epicenter in his dream world.

"Lucid dreaming is a thing some people try to do," Dr. Cho's voice came—the woman phased right through Wanda, walking through what quickly became her office as she took a seat at her desk, "Although from my understanding, it's something like hypnosis. People have to be willing to give up some semblance of control over their mind to let someone else in. From that, I've always assessed that a person who enacts too much control might actually find it difficult to reach the relaxation necessary for a lucid dream state."

Cho stopped to take a sip of her tea, before moving on to the documents she had stepped in with. Wanda thought she could hear Vision's voice, although it was distant, muffled, too muffled for her to hear or make out. Cho smiled and gave answer to whatever Vision had said.

"You have to think about an anchor, a center point. From what I understand—and lucid dreaming is something of a fringe science in my opinion, so take what I say with a grain of salt—lucid dreaming gives the dreamer control over the happenings, the contents, the length of their dreams." Cho explained, whilst sifting through paperwork. She looked up in Wanda's direction, seeing Vision, of course, "What is with your sudden interest in lucid dreaming, anyway? If I may ask. Romanoff mentioned to me that you've been asking her a lot about it since she brought it up."

"Dreaming… dreaming is so short and so fleeting," Wanda heard Vision's muffled voice, but she looked around, unable to find him anywhere. "…so very new to me. …fascinated by i… but it ends so quickly."

"Most dreams are short in nature. REM sleep actually has quite the duration, at least in the typical human brain. It comes and goes throughout the night. Tell me, you aren't having any disturbances in your sleep, any nightmares?"

"Far from it, Dr. Cho… the dreams are wonderful."

"I take it you don't simply dream about flying?" Dr. Cho asked with a smile.

"No… Feeling…"

Dr. Cho nodded, a look of some understanding on her face, as though Vision's answer made perfect sense, though she could not quite elaborate on it.

Wanda heard voices outside of Dr. Cho's office. Just outside the door. Steve's marching songs. Jogging. Wanda made her way toward the door, glancing back at Cho and the empty seat in front of her desk. She continued to speak in technicalities, "So you're sleeping once every 120 hours, then?"

Cho's voice was of less interest to Wanda as she opened the door. The indoor training hall, empty, though filled with the sound of their team sparring. Of Sam's jokes, of Rhodey's quips, Natasha's battle cries and Steve's orders. The scent of earth, of soil, grass, the faintest breeze coming in though the hall was sealed off. Birds in the sky, chirping. Wanda stepped into the hall, thinking to just turn back for Cho's office—but the door through which she had come was gone.

"Don't go easy on me, Viszh." Wanda heard her own voice—all others silenced. She hadn't spoken. She looked around, still very much alone in the training hall. She thought to speak up, but wouldn't dare make herself be known in his sleeping mind.

Not when all she wanted was to watch and see what happened.

"Don't go easy on me, Viszh." She heard her voice again, before the training hall faded away to the empty lounge suite, still a mess from the party, but dimmed with the glow of stringed lights hanging along the walls and across the high cieling.

Wanda felt a hand on her back and jumped, surprised at how there she physically felt. She bolted around, seeing Vision, his human "costume" under soft amber light. He had no reaction to her spinning around to face him. Instead he continued to watch her, in a trance, stroking her hair, running long, crimson fingers through her wavy locks. Wanda's heart was pounding in her chest. He was touchingher, albeit gently, but… no one in their dreams had made contact with her in a way she could feel.

She heard his breaths, slow and quiet. He twirled one long chestnut strand around his fingers and then traced a line across her collar bone, moving inward this time, toward her chest, toward her heart. His fingertips stopped, lingering over her heart, beating hard within her chest like a heavy drum. Electric butterflies seemed to rise up in her belly, her chest, rising from her core as she felt a rush of curiosity and something new entirely.

Wanda kept her eyes fixed on Vision, though he appeared more intrigued by her heartbeat. Only then did his eyes meet hers. Did he know she was actually there? Wanda thought to speak, but was still so terribly afraid of shattering his comfortable illusion of a dream, of revealing to him that she was actuallythere, intruding on his most private thoughts. She felt so utterly caught in that moment, though she sensed in his forward touches that he thought her to be just a creation of his unconscious thoughts.

His touch moved back upward again, along the curve of her neck and hesitantly, rising up along her jawline, across the soft of her cheeks before dipping back through her hair. Wanda let her eyes shut at his gentle caressing. No one but Pietro had such a calming effect on her.

This is so much different than Pietro, though.

It somehow didn't surprise her that his skin felt warm and human. Indistinguishable from Pietro's caresses.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she reached up and placed her hand over his as he cupped her face. Knuckles, soft, thick veins pumping with blood not unlike her own. Hot blooded, skin just slightly dry — not as dewy and perfect as the day she first laid eyes on him.

"Would you… want me if I looked this way? Looked… human?" Vision's voice came, breaking Wanda's reverie.

She opened her eyes when she realized his roaming touch had stopped. Emotion began to spill over her again, just like last time — a waterfall of it. Anxiety, nervousness, she sensed the want for him to pull away from her, like fear, moments before she caught the tremble in his hand.

"You look at me… just as they do. Acknowledging that I am different. Recognizing me as if I were… as if I were a monster." Vision said, his brow furrowing, "I… I believe I frighten you…"

"You're losing him, you're waking him up, you fool!" Wanda thought, caught in prismatic, inhuman blue eyes wrought with rising anguish.

"You are the last one I would have frightened of me… Wanda."

"Hurry up and do something, anything!"

Anything.

Wanda leaned up on her toes to reach, and kissed him.

Vision was stilled by this at first, taken aback by such an unexpected motion from the once-docile doppelganger. Her lips brushed against his—they were both soft and dry, with a taste she could only describe as that of electricity, if it had a certain taste. His lips were so still, yet slowly parted, letting her in, letting her press forward. She felt his arms come up around her waist, holding her, bringing her body closer to his. Wanda heard his voice against her tongue, a soft moan riding a trembling breath.

She felt his tongue and she felt heat. That wash of emotion eased out of cold nervousness and faded into warm, welcoming want.

Wanda's fingers stroked his face gently, just as she did before she pushed him onto his bed earlier in the evening. She finally spoke, her lips moving against his uncertain, almost-stilled kiss.

"Take off this silly costume, Viszh… I want to kiss you."

Vision gazed down at her, his breaths light, his mind visibly on a cloud. He was drunk on her touch and taste, on her every word, it seemed. "…of course."

The inviting human form faded away again, leaving only the scarlet form of sinew and bone structure carved out of vibranium plates. The lights around them had moved slowly into a blur, into the dull glow cast by the lights in Vision's room. In the time her eyes shut and opened again in a blink, he was laying back against his sheets, resuming his moment of nakedness, beneath her now, slowly drawing her closer.