Hello.
First I want to thank all those people who read my story; It is amazing the support I had.
I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Thanks to NeverNik. Who helped me with this chapter and was kind to me.
Disclaimer: This fanfiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Disclaimer: I don´t own Marvel.
A hug, have a good day
One: Girls love a man who always dresses well.
The flow of abstract images envelops his mind, allowing Vision to achieve a pattern similar to REM sleep in humans. It's an experience he's never had before, but it pleases him immensely.
"Good morning sunshine, time to rise!"
Vision listens to the words as soon as his eyes open. He stretches, looking around, feeling the softness of the sheets around his body.
It's very early; the clock on the night table marks seven in the morning. Miss Potts must have woken him; the superhero is not known to be a regular early riser.
The chestnut-haired man greets him with a wave of hands, a funny smile playing on his lips.
"Look at that, FRIDAY managed to put you to sleep!" Tony shrugs. "I guess counting electronic sheep works!" he laughs.
"Good morning, Mr... Tony," Vision nods, hopping out of bed and automatically arranging the sheets by folding them perfectly. "I must thank you for allowing me to stay, and for the help that you and Miss Potts provided the night before."
Tony watches him, drumming his fingers on every surface he finds in the room. His mind flutters with new ideas.
"For that, we are loving and charitable parents." Tony finds it important to clarify that point. "Now, come on. There's a lot of work to do."
Vision nods, following his path, while the chestnut-haired man beside him gleefully chatters about new processing circuits, repair suits, updates to the Mark 72 and how hard it is to keep your eyes open at seven o'clock in the morning.
The droid's lips curve up slightly, admiring how the mind of his creator seems to have no rest. Perhaps the mind of a genius moves in a different sense from other people; that would explain Tony's behavior and the way that he processes information so remarkably.
Vision will look for more information about it, thinking about how a cup of coffee is offered by one of the robots that works in the Stark house. Dummy, Vision remembers.
The small robot moves its metallic arm, cataloging it, then lets out a sound very similar to a squeak.
"Yeah, I know." Tony hits Dummy's metal arm playfully. "The prodigal son returns home."
Another squeak resounds, a basic language created by the union of metallic pieces and creative electronics.
Tony nods, following the line of his robot. "I'm also happy to have him back," he replies kindly. "Now, enough of chats; your little brother and I will work on how to make a girl fall in love with him."
Vision's eyes open in surprise, just like his mouth does. A characteristic gesture of an average human. He's managed to perfect it over time.
Dummy manages another squeak; this time, more prolonged, moving his metallic arm from one side to another. Its integrated monocular is fixed on Vision.
"I'm pleased to see you again, Dummy."
That seems to be the answer that the little robot seeks. It moves from side to side, and with that - he is gone.
"I hope that the night of dreams brought you a wonderful revelation." It's Tony who breaks the ice, sitting on his couch.
Vision's synthetic heart leaps. His night of dreams, as Tony paraphrased, has served as the search engine for possible explanations regarding its malfunction; and through all of them he's reached the same result.
It is useless to deny what is happening.
It will not change the way his body reacts to his partner's laughter or closeness.
His gaze stays fixed on the coffee cup in his hands, then he bravely meets the hopeful gaze of his creator. "I have come to the conclusion that I am experiencing different emotions in relation to Miss Maximoff."
Tony smiles, pleased. "And what will you do about it, Big Red?"
Vision stares at his, mouth open.
A question for which he still has no answer.
"I figured that much." Tony rolls his eyes and suspires, getting up from his seat.
Tony hands Vision a folded white paper. Vision opens it with gentleness. His eyes fly between each word in disbelief.
Tony nods, gesturing with his left hand for Vision to read aloud.
"How to Conquer Wanda Maximoff and not Die in the Attempt for Dummies. Rule number 1. Make sure you attract her attention. Dress well. Girls love a man who always dresses well."
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Vision's low voice rises, as if he isn't convinced.
Tony closes his eyes firmly.
"I didn't get all those girls or women from staying quiet. The worst that can happen is that she rejects you, but you move on." Tony laughs and waggles his eyebrows.
Vision blinks at his creator.
His mind runs in different directions as the words sink in.
The worst that could happen! That's exactly the problem!
Vision doesn't want to be rejected! He's experienced what it's like to be seen as someone different, strange, even monstrous in the eyes of many. He doesn't want that particular emotion coming from young Maximoff.
"Trust me," Tony says with a bright grin. "She'll love it. Women love a perfectly dressed man."
"Am I not a well-dressed man?" Vision asks with complete honesty. He shrugs his shoulders, trying to look more casual, something he's learned from Tony - who constantly says that he should move less like an android and more like a male model.
Vision doesn't know what to think about that. He doesn't know any male models.
Tony nods his head vehemently. "First thing. You need a makeover."
"A makeover?" Vision repeats, eyes brightening.
"Just some changes in wardrobe," Tony says, looking in horror at the cashmere sweater Vision's wearing. "Don't get me wrong, but you look like a horrible librarian from the 80s."
Vision is about to replicate when the chestnut-haired man continues his verbiage. "We need to find some clothes that don't hide that sexy vibranium body of yours."
"I don't have a 'sexy' body."
"Who said that?" Tony asks, tentatively. "Was it Capsicle or Sam? Or was Thor? Because he's a God. So he technically doesn't count," Tony jokes.
Vision smiles.
Three seconds are enough for the android to express what is really occupying his mind. "I don't have any money."
Tony lets out a sound that sounds very close to a howl.
Vision documents it in his mind as 'theatrical.'
"If only you knew an intelligent, handsome, millionaire who could pay for you? Umm," Tony says with a smirk. His answer comes with a slap on Vision's chest. "Oh, right, you do! You have me, the RoboFather." Tony waves off Vision's worries with a flick of his wrist. "Come on, little one, let's change your look."
Vision fiddles with the hem of his sweater, considering his words. "Maybe you're right... I... I think."
Tony winks. "Of course I'm right! I've got years of female experience and guys on my side."
Vision doesn't know how to respond to that. Tony is the expert in those fields.
"Don't worry, RoboSon, you'll be the most handsome-looking boy in all of the complex when I'm done with you."
The rich aroma that invades her nostrils, accompanied by a sound that makes her stomach growl is the main cause of her leaving the shared room and approaching the kitchen.
From his position in front of the stove, Colonel Rhodes, or Rhodey, as he likes to be called, sends her a friendly smile while his attention is divided between cutting the vegetables perfectly and checking the sauce for the chicken he's preparing.
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," the man declares with gleaming pride.
Wanda nods and hops onto the stool to the right of Sam, who watches like a hawk at every step the Colonel takes.
"I bet him twenty dollars that his "gourmet" chicken is not as good as mine," Sam comments, starting the conversation.
Wanda smiles, but not daring to be included in their bets. It's well known in the complex that the bets between certain male Avengers end in an unstoppable series of practical jokes.
Wanda crosses her arms, female pride refusing to budge.
Her stomach growls again, but Sam is so focused on his bet with the Colonel that he doesn't notice it. Wanda thanks the sky for it.
Shame it isn't something that she's used to handling, especially when the typical response is a mockery at her expense.
The tinkling of glasses and plates makes Wanda deviate from her thoughts and turn around to see Steve and Natasha setting the table. They remind her of one of those TV comercials where the mother smiles kindly, placing each chair in its place while the father returns the smile with bright eyes, arranging each spoon and fork to perfection.
How domestic would the world think they are?
Sometimes enough, so that people like her are able to leave her hiding behind, get away from the darkness, and glimpse a little bit of the light that the world has to offer.
Wanda has come a long way. The pain touched her life very early without asking permission, taking with her the people in whose arms she felt comfortable - taking away the smell of familiarity.
She was left in the streets with her best half.
She lived hidden away from evil men, hidden from those not so evil but with a thirst for vengeance that made them undoubtedly even more dangerous.
She hid for years, until HYDRA and her false promises found her. Manipulated for years, she was the faithful toy of their experiments until the air of redemption, and of revenge that for years had been hoisted, finally fell.
Taking the evil behind Ultron with them.
Leaving Sokovia in pieces and broken hearts.
Leaving her without him. Without her best half. Without that voice, his kindness, the familiarity of her brother, her twin. Her protector and her only true friend.
Her heart screams when she thinks of him. Pietro.
Her heart screams for many things, but above all - for him.
Her loss left her feeling empty.
And it's a feeling that Wanda constantly fights.
The crazy Avengers who share a house with her do nothing but help her, support her and be strong for her, so Wanda can move forward.
They are the light that the world has to offer for people like her.
Sam and Rodhey are focused on their football conversation when it happens.
Her eyes flicker a couple of times when she feels the soft touch of his mind, a collection of simple images, inviting her to come closer, to look closely. To sink into the complexity and depth of his mind.
Her hands rest on the table, wanting to exert pressure, as if such an act could serve as the main distractor to make her want to forget about entering Vision's mind.
Forget about wanting to get lost in the network of neurological - synthetic layers, plus the fundamental essence of the stone of the mind that makes him what it is.
She can't deny that curiosity settled in her from the first moment she saw him.
Her mind opened like butterfly wings, wanting to fly in the free and new field that was his mind.
Since then, she hasn't wanted to do anything other than read his mind, get involved with him, understand him, analyze him.
It's an attraction like that of the moth to the flame, only in this case, her mind is the naughty moth that seeks to burn in the blinding and brilliant flame that is Vision's mind.
She mentally scolds herself for that.
In no way is it political or correct to invade the privacy of people - or droids with souls, in his case - to get involved in their minds, she will no do it.
No! Wanda Maximoff has learned her lesson.
No matter how much she wants to read Vision's mind, she will not.
The sound of wolf whistles around her are strong enough to stop her inner monologue and concentrate on her companions. But when she comes to herself, what she finds leaves her speechless. Tony Stark walks with his usual charisma, greeting everyone as if he were the Queen of England, until he drops into one of the armchairs with a ridiculously dramatic gesture. Usual Tony.
However, that isn't what's taken away her speech. It's him.
Vision.
Vision - looking like a typical magazine model.
Her mouth opens and closes as she details his appearance.
The white designer shirt he wears fits correctly to his torso, leaving two of the buttons free so that centimeters of his crimson skin are visible. Wanda swallows at the sight. Over it, the black leather jacket makes his arms look even heavier than they already are.
It's hard not to notice that detail. Like the length of the android's legs. Who would know they were so long and toned?
Black designer trousers prove that point perfectly.
She should, at this point, stop looking at him. But honestly - she can't.
His outfit is complemented by a pair of black sneakers with a gold border, and a pair of designer glasses.
"Looking good, red boy!" Rodhey says with a grin, then he whistles.
Wanda nods at that comment. Her eyes haven't left the android. He really looks great.
"The new and sexy robot!" Sam teases, hitting the table in front of him, a signal of support.
Wanda laughs. She can feel the bubbling flicker of Vision's mind. He's nervous.
Nervous and in search of approval from his peers.
"What a handsome one!" The Widow throws an easy and charming smile in his direction. The crimson of his cheeks only deepens.
Is Vision flushed? Can that be possible?
"Can sunglasses be worn indoors?" The captain asks, slightly confused.
Wanda sighs. It's Steve, after all.
"Yeah! He looks absolutely smashing, " Tony grins, wildly amused that Vision actually let him dress him like this.
"Can we have dinner, or will everyone continue to ogle Vision? I mean, there are parents present here," Stark mocks, raising his hand on his chest in a gesture of self-denial.
Nat clicks her tongue, smiling, patting Vision's shoulder, politely asking him to sit.
Vision accepts and everyone follows his example.
All except for Wanda, who remains terribly stuck in the same place.
No one seems to notice, other than Tony Stark and his ridiculous wit.
"PG 13, kid," he mocks with his unmistakable signature smile, stopping next to her. "Stop ogling my boy."
Wanda ignores Tony's sarky comment and possible attempt to lead the conversation into safer territories. "He looks happy," she whispers softly.
Tony shrugs. "Of course he is! "
She nods, managing to free her mind at full speed and moves away from Tony.
"But I think the words you're looking for to describe Vision are 'sexy as hell.'"
Wanda looks at him, then swallows, feeling the sharp answer on the tip of her tongue, but the brunette-haired man is quick to respond. "You say 'thank you, Tony.'" He winks.
She clicks her tongue in reproach when Tony steps away from her and walks away. There's a surprised expression on her face, which she is trying to control, but to her own misfortune she's failing miserably.
She hates him, but he is right.
Vision looks sexy as hell.
And she hadn't noticed.
Damn!
The dinner takes place amid laughter, funny comments and sports news.
It also happens between the sidelong glances that Vision almost imperceptibly gives the young Avenger; the playful smile that doesn't leave Tony's lips, which somehow makes Natasha's nerves stand on end, not to mention the said Avenger's ashamed face. Wanda doesn't look up more than three times in the whole dinner. That's weird!
Even more strange is that Stark has that smile that screams 'I'm innocent!' And that ignites the alarms in Nat's mind.
Tony's up to something, and she'll find out sooner or later what it is.
"I have a feeling that things are going to get interesting," Tony says with a secret smile.
She narrows her eyes at him.
"I guess we should thank you for not using golden clothes - with your crazy tendency to love red and gold, you could have ended up turning Vision into another one of your personalized mannequins."
"Aww geez, thanks, Nat!"
Hours later, Wanda finds herself walking around the complex, her mind sufficiently restless to allow her to reconcile to some kind of rest.
Until the sound of a soft melody echoes in her mind.
It envelops her in a calming and safe sensation.
Wanda smiles, automatically walking towards the fountain.
The rhythmic notes, full of history, surround the room, welcoming her; however, she refuses to touch, to enter.
No, she definitely doesn't want to enter Vision's room.
Much less today.
She's about to turn around when the door opens.
She sighs, and Vision raises his head, giving her one of those sweet smiles, which he in his own innocent way possesses.
She finds herself responding in kind.
"You wear silk pajamas?" she asks, then wants to kick herself for it. How silly did that sounde
She rushes to correct herself before Vision's questioning look. "You're Stark's pampered boy! Look at you - designer pants, designer glasses, and now silk pajamas."
"I have acquired a new wardrobe thanks to Mr. Stark, who kindly offered to help me."
She nods. She was sure Tony was at the centre of everything.
"Why do you need a new wardrobe?"
"It has come to my attention that my old clothes made me look like a horrible librarian from the 80s."
Wanda laughs, she really does.
At her side, Vision tenses, misunderstanding her reaction.
When her laughter dies down, she kindly explains.
"Your previous clothes make you look great. Comfortable," Wanda admits with a simple smile. "Like home,"she whispers softly. "I liked them."
She could swear that he's blushing with the compliment.
"Thanks, Wanda."
She hops on one foot, and then the other.
Vision doesn't stop looking at her. His mouth opens, but no words come out. Or so she believes.
"Would you like to enter my room? I am listening to classical music. I find it particularly pleasant."
She smiles, and he steps aside, allowing her to enter his room.
Vision's room is similar to all the rooms in the complex; equipped with a single bed, bedside table and a bookcase. The difference lies in the lack of personal accessories. There is only a series of books with varied titles on the bookshelf, a photo of Tony accompanied by a beautiful woman with red hair and another robust man she does not know by the bedside table. The three smile broadly at the camera.
They must be important in some way for Vision. She supposes.
There is also a green teddy bear with purple pants occupying the center of the bed, much to Wanda's surprise. A clear reference to Bruce.
Wanda smiles at the detail.
Vision, who has stood stoically by the door, blinks at her.
He doesn't know what to do. Well, neither does she.
He's probably never had a girl in his room, she thinks with a smile curling her lips.
And that reminds her how innocent and new Vision is in this world. It also reminds her of something important.
"You okay?" You left very quickly the other day," Wanda elaborates.
Now, he doesn't dare to look at her. Something makes his brain go blank. She can see that. Wait, what happens? she wonders.
"I worry about you. "
His gaze suddenly slides from that spot on the ground and stops at her. His eyes are warm, kind when he speaks.
"I apologize if I caused you concern; it was not my intention at all," he says timidly. "My systems were working in a way I did not understand."
"That's normal?"
Vision denies with his head. "I do not know, but I am going to find out."
"Good! We can't have you without understanding your systems around here," she jokes.
He smiles warmly and she ignores the tightening in her chest.
For a week it's become a kind of routine to share much of her nights in the company of Vision, listening to the quiet melody that somehow seems to let go of her nightmares and lets her sleep peacefully.
It's also nice to spend time with him.
Although sometimes they remain completely silent, his mere presence is comforting.
However, there is a particular issue that has occupied her mind lately.
Vision's clothes.
At first, it made him look completely different, sexy. Now they make him look like someone who he's clearly not.
Flannels of Sabbath, AC / DC, Iron Maiden, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin have become fixtures in his wardrobe.
Pants, incredibly stuck, scruffy and even ripped, along with ridiculously expensive shirts are still in order.
And that irritates her even more.
Wanda is sure that Vision doesn't know any of these artists or brands or feels comfortable with the clothes he wears.
He's just Stark's cute doll to play dress-up with.
The situation only gets worse when Vision greets her looking like a faithful copy of Tony Stark.
"Are you serious?" she snorts, exasperated. "Let's go."
"Go where?" Vision tilts his head innocently, obviously surprised.
"To buy you clothes, of course," Wanda laughs, grabbing Vision's hesitant hand as they walk to the clothing store Natasha mentioned on previous occasions.
Wanda smiles warmly, guiding Vision into the clothing store with a soft hand on his arm.
"Good afternoon! My name is Melissa." A blonde woman appears before them. "I have had the pleasure of helping other Avengers choose their clothes before. I hope to be able to help this time."
"Don't be nervous," Wanda says with a smile. "The idea is that you wear clothes that you feel comfortable with and be yourself, Vision. "
He agrees, trusting in her. After all, she is the expert in this situation.
Wanda talks to the woman (Melissa) about his clothing preferences for a few minutes. He agrees every time one of them asks him something.
"Here are some clothes that I actually think would look great and still make you look like the Vision we all know," Wanda smiles as she places a pile of clothes in the chair of the fitting room.
Vision takes his time trying on everything, picking two tops, two bottoms, and a pair of shoes; his choice wasn't so much based on the style of the clothes, but rather in their comfortable feel. He really liked one outfit in particular: very simple flannel pants and elegant dark blue cashmere sweater.
He smiles as he opened the door, excitedly anticipating Wanda's reaction.
"I think you look really cute in this one! " Wanda gives him a sweet smile.
"We'll take these?"
"Of course we will, did you have to ask?" Wanda shakes her head, chuckling.
Five minutes later
Wanda takes the cup of coffee that Melissa has obtained to Vision (choosing to ignore the order that the young lady had given her).
She gives it a sip when her eyes settle on the written line and the name written below. Her lips form a thin line as she turns the cup towards him.
Vision
Was that an earthquake or did you just rock my world?
Melissa
555-8245
Confusion crosses his mind, reading the writing again.
He does not believe that such a natural disaster has occurred.
They haven't reported anything about it in the recent news.
And why would she leave him a number? Does she belong to Civil Protection?
But the most disconcerting thing about the whole thing is Wanda's expression. A large furrow covers her brows while her mouth closes stiffly.
An expression that only lasts a few seconds before she is talking bubbly again with him.
"OMG! She just gave you a pick-up line, Vision. The librarian's clothes! Of course they work on you!" Wanda points as one understood in the matter.
However, a single question is generated in his mind, intriguing enough to escape from his lips. "What is a pick-up line?"
Wanda laughs. "A silly phrase that a girl or boy gives to another, to flirt, or in some cases, to joke." She shrugs. "It's a form of expression that also serves to try to bring someone you like to..."
Her cheeks blush deeply.
"Where?"
She looks away. The blush is still deep on her face. She looks even more beautiful than usual as her hand carries a strand of hair away from her face and tucks it behind her right ear.
"Never mind. Come on, time to go home," she says, taking his hand in hers as she ends the matter.
The only thing he can think about is the heat that invades his hand and spreads to his chest.
A week later, when the training is over, Wanda decides it's time to clean up and rest a bit.
She walks with slow steps towards her room.
She opens the door and casually throws herself on her bed.
Her eyes close momentarily; then open to find a bag from a clothing store on her dresser.
She quickly gets up, curiosity filling her body, to open it.
Laughter escapes from her lips when she holds a pair of scarlet socks accompanied by a white card with a single written phrase.
We're not socks. But I think we'd make a great pair.
That phrase has her smiling all the blessed day.
TBC…
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