Chapter 3 – Scottish Kisses
Wanda dragged herself from that memory. Pulled herself away from it before it got too good. She had told herself that she could never need him. She could never need someone, not right now. Everyone she ever needed was taken away. Her parents, Pietro, even Clint to an extent. And now Vision was creeping back to her. She couldn't shake him off, because she didn't want to shake him off. She wanted to relive that first night in Edinburgh again and again. Tears prickled her eyes at the frustration of it all. If she were a teenager, she would have scolded herself for being so immature. Breakups were all a part of life, and the pain would go away. Silly childhood crushes would be forgotten about, and one day that knight in shining armor would come to her, and whisk her away to the land of love and dreams. But she wasn't a teenager anymore, and Vision was not some silly childhood crush. Vision was that knight in shining armor, and now he was gone. Or was he?
Wanda's eyes traveled a timber booth, where a man was just exiting. A phone box.
She raised herself from the bench, her backside wet and cold from the damp seat. She wiped the tears away and trudged over to it. Vision wouldn't snitch on her, no matter now pledged he was to Tony. He wouldn't hunt her down and drag her and the others back to the R.A.F.T…No, she couldn't do it, surely? It would be beyond stupid to call a member of the opposition while in hiding. And even if she did ring from a phone box, the number would give away their location, or at least the country they were in. She couldn't do it to Sam, and to Steve and Nat for trying their best to find hospitable places for them to hide out, especially not one as nice and picturesque at this one. Well, then why was she still walking towards the phone box? Why was she opening the door and getting into it? The door closed behind her, and the silence offered her better judgement.
"Don't be an idiot," she scolded herself in Sokovian. It was something she did when she was on her own. She and Pietro used to speak it when they were alone, and if he were here, she knew he would be speaking it to her as a secret language, one nobody on the team but them spoke. Of course, he'd enjoy the other team member's confusion and irritation when they didn't understand what was being said. Pietro. She already lost too many people to be beating around the bush like this. Plus, she couldn't hide in here forever. She picked up the receiver. The hum of disconnection echoed around the booth without her even having to press it up to her ear. It was deafening. She just wanted to hear a voice. Black painted nails made their way across the buttons in front of her, ever so slowly pressing the familiar numbers one by one. When she finished, her hands shook and her stomach clenched. As the phone rang, she was uncertain. She would love more than anything to talk to Vision, but what could she say, almost three months since she last saw him? She could hardly see him, and she couldn't ask him to come to Switzerland, especially not with Sam around. And who's to say his phone, the ancient Nokia he found in one of Tony's cupboards so he could keep in contact with Wanda, wasn't bugged? Or if it was still even being used after three months? Now, she wished he wouldn't pick up. She couldn't bring herself to hang up on him, but at least if he ignored her, she could move on, or she could try to. What she should have done was stay in her cabin, then none of this would have…
"Hello?" A series of shivers darted up her spine. Her heart thudded. Her stomach clenched. Her fingers shook so much that she almost dropped the phone. This was what only one word from Vision could do to her. She wanted to speak, but her mouth wouldn't co-operate. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" His voice searched through the phone-line, trying to find her, but she was hiding from him. Tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut. 'Just hang up' she begged to herself. 'Just hang up on me. Get it over with'. "I'm sorry, I think you might have the wrong number." Vision's voice had changed. Was that disappointment she sensed? "I'm going to hang up now." Wanda had willed for this to happen, but when it came to it, she couldn't let it.
"No!" she almost yelled. A lump had formed in her throat as her tears escaped onto her cheeks and slid down in fat drops to her chin.
"W…" Vision, for once, stuttered. Now it was his turn to try and find his words. She could hear him whisper, and in her mind's eye she saw him pacing his room in the Avenger's Base. "Wanda, is that you? Are you OK? Where are you? Tell me you're alright."
Her sobs echoed through the booth as she pressed the receiver to her forehead. His questions were coming faster, more panicked. He could hear her sadness, and wanted to stop it. He could bear a great many things, but hearing Wanda Maximoff cry was not one of them. She needed to compose herself, explain herself. She didn't want him to worry.
"Viz…Vision," she managed. Her voice was still coming in hiccups, but she wanted to talk to him. "I just…I…"
"Are you in trouble? Where are you, Wanda? I can help you. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can…Wanda? Are you still there? Please don't hang up. I want to help you, just talk to me."
She had made a mistake. She never should have rang him. She never should have worried him. Now he was torn up all over again, and that was on her. She never heard what he said next. The phone in her hand crumpled into itself, red sparks dancing off of her fingers as she balled them into fists. The phone plummeted to the floor, the wire holding the mangled heap like a swinging pendulum. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting this way? She had gone through the death of her parents, experimentation, the loss of Pietro, the fall of Sokovia and weeks of solitary confinement in the R.A.F.T. Why was she so ripped up over talking to someone? She slumped against the wall of the booth, slid down and hugged her knees. This is what happens when you bottle everything up. This is what happens when you spend your whole life holding everything in.
Vision? Here in Scotland? He remembered their dream. He remembered her. He wore a glamour not to arouse suspicion from the public, but he was the same Vision. The same man who kept her company in the Avenger's Base. The same man who saved her life when she left her post in Sokovia. The same man who tried to make her favorite dish from childhood just to cheer her up, and made sure she was OK on the battlefield, even after she threw him through several floors for trying to protect her. Wanda Maximoff, who was usually quiet and composed off of the battlefield, felt the brightest smile she ever had spread across her face, and saw the human Vision do the same. The way his eyes twinkled when he smiled drove her crazy, her heart hammered and she fidgeted on the spot. She simply couldn't contain herself any longer. Apparently, Vision anticipated her outburst, because when she squealed and threw herself at him, he caught her without so much as taking a step back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, while his traveled down to her waist, holding her tight. Her laughter came louder, and as she hugged him tighter, Vision pressed his face into her shoulder. She smelled like raspberry shampoo and lavender, a scent which was quite new to Vision, but was entirely Wanda. He breathed her in, before a laugh escaped his own mouth. He spun her around, her legs swinging around him, like their own dance, before he placed her down. He needed to see her again. As her legs touched the ground, he brought his hands up to her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs and feeling her strands of soft, brown hair between his fingers. Her smile radiated onto his, her eyes were bright and… hold on. Something was wrong.
"You're crying," he observed. His expression morphed. His smile disappeared, and worry adorned his eyes. "Are you not happy?" His innocence was one of the things that Wanda loved most about him. She burst out laughing, something that confused Vision even further.
"Vision," she brought her hands from his neck to his face and shook her head with disbelief. What had she ever done to deserve him? "At this moment, I am the most happy I have ever been in my life." His smile was instantly brought back, and her hands left his face and went back to stroke his neck. This was it. This was all she wanted. She was all he wanted. His fingers resumed toying with her hair, and before either of them knew it, a force surrounded them. Wanda realized she was putting weight on her hands, pulling him down to her, and Vision cupped her face, spreading warmth through her entire body. As they edged closer, both discovered that neither of them knew what they were doing. Wanda had never been with anyone before (being so young when her parents died, it wasn't as if she was too worried about dating) and Vision hadn't even been around that long.
Their noses brushed against each other. For a moment, their foreheads touched. Their breathing was slow, contrary to their stammering heartbeats, as if the two souls were in sync.
Vision went for it.
Their lips brushed off of each other's softly, as if just figuring things out, before colliding together more forcefully. Their lips parted, and Wanda got her first ever taste of Vision. He did not taste robotic or synthetic. He tasted human, and it had nothing to do with the glamour. This is what they had been waiting for. For over a year, this is what Wanda dreamed of. This is what Vision longed for. Wanda's arms reached up higher, so that her elbows rested on his shoulders and her forearms brushed against Vision's human hair. As their kiss deepened, Vision's hands left her face, tracing down her back and landing at their destination on her waist. He pulled her closer, so that there was no space between their bodies. He never wanted to leave this position. They fit together perfectly. If he could bottle this new feeling, this euphoria, and study it, he would. It was such a curious thing for him to feel. An android feeling this sense of adoration. This love. Wanda's fingers danced from his neck to his chest, where she gripped at his scarf and beamed. Feeling her smile against his lips, he smiled back. Wanda burst into giggles as they pulled away. Vision leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, and almost matching breaths with Wanda. In a hotel corridor, with the threat of a pushy room service lady looming over them, Wanda made a suggestion.
"I think you should come inside," she found his eyes, and they stayed focused on her in sheer adoration. He smiled as she wrapped his scarf in between her fingers, basically escorting him into the room already. He brought one hand up from her waist and took one of her hands. Their fingers intertwined, and she dropped the scarf to take the other one. Bringing both her hands up to his face, he kissed them softly.
"I think so to."
Composure was key for Wanda. As she trudged back to the cabin, she kept to herself. Eyes down, arms crossed, don't speak to anyone. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She balled her hands into fists so tight she left the crescent moon shape of her nails embedded into her skin. As she made her way back to the cabin, she grew more and more tired. It was only seven, but the darkened sky made it seem so much later. The cabins were illuminated with classy black lamp posts, and Wanda prayed she wouldn't see Sam hanging around here. The last thing she needed was for him to find out she rang a member of the opposition, gave away their location and undid all of the hard work Steve had done for them. Luckily, it was a free run back to her cabin; all the families, lovers and Sam retreated to their cabins, no doubt eating dinner and enjoying their winter holidays. She fumbled with her key as it refused to make contact with the lock, holding back the urge to use her powers to blow the door to pieces. She refrained, having already destroyed a phone that didn't belong to her. Finally, the key clicked and her door fell open. The note was still on the table, untouched. San had not come looking for her. She contemplated sleeping on the couch, but doubted she would have the energy to drag the duvets and pillows from the bedroom to the living room, telekinesis or no telekinesis, and stumbled like a drunk into the bedroom. She stood at the doorway for a moment, staring blankly out of the window, where one of the street lamps peeked through the pine trees. The light mixed with the soft glow of the moonlight, and Wanda sank down onto the bed. It squeaked as she swung her legs onto it and turned to face the window. She was exhausted, but for one reason or another, she could not go to sleep.
Wanda stared out of her window, where the yellow glow of the city washed in. She reached down to her waist, covering the hand that was resting there with her own. Vision had since phased back into his original form, his mind stone glowing with new life every time she touched it. Vision had since fallen asleep, his long journey from America to Scotland tiring him to the point of exhaustion. Of course, he hadn't fallen asleep straight away. Vision had been alive with excitement. He couldn't get enough of Wanda, he didn't want to be away from her for one second longer, craving her attention like she craved him. He held her hands and she led him into the room, and as she flicked one of her fingers, the door floated closed, and Vision dropped his glamour. He stood in the same clothes, though now he stood standing there as Vision, the real Vision. Take him as he was or don't take him at all, but Wanda couldn't even imaging leaving him. They spoke non-stop, never being more than a few inches apart, always touching and never wanting to let go. At least now Wanda knew why Natasha had suggested this hotel. According to Vision, she had contacted him. Wanda thought that might have been risky in Natasha's eyes. Vision was eternally loyal to Tony, but Natasha was a master manipulator. She knew Vision wasn't a snitch, he wasn't a rat, and must have known of his fondness of Wanda over everyone else. How much he had missed her. She used that against him, though Vision was told it was the last time she would be organizing such an event. She had made that perfectly clear.
"But that doesn't mean we cannot make it work," Vision stated, cupping her cheek and smiling reassuringly. Wanda smiled back, though she wasn't so sure. How would they make it work? How? Keeping on the run? Dragging him across the world any spare moment, despite the fact that he would get into trouble with Tony and the others, not to mention actual authority? Dragging him around like a dog because of a mess she had gotten herself into; a mess he had tried his best to keep her out of? No. It simply couldn't work. She couldn't do it to him.
But she couldn't tell him that tonight. She had waited what seemed her whole life for this night, and she wasn't prepared to just throw it away. She needed an alternate reality for now. To play make believe for just one more time. She didn't want to lie, it felt wrong to lie to someone as pure as Vision, so she ended his statement with another kiss. He could interpret it whatever way he wanted, but for Wanda, it meant something entirely different. A bittersweet moment trapped inside her.
And now here she was, fighting sleep to keep her grasp on the last few strings of the night. She enveloped his hand in hers, her thumb stroking the edge of his jumper sleeve, and in his sleep, he curled his fingers around hers. She swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she snuggled back, feeling the rise and fall of Vision's chest on her back. His head lulled forward slightly, so his forehead rested against Wanda's hair, breathing her in.
She closed her eyes, but she did not sleep.
Author's Note
Thank you for all the support with this fanfiction! I'm not entirely sure how long this is going to be, but I'm really enjoying writing this story and am having fun with the characters! There's more to come!
