Tugging anxiously at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, Wanda's eyes moved to the clock hanging on the wall across from her. Steve had said that guy would be there tonight, but it was nearing nine thirty, and she hadn't even gotten a text or a call saying whether or not he was still planning on showing up.
Slumping back against the cushions of the couch, emerald orbs glare with irritation at the illuminated computer screen resting on the coffee table reminding her of her impending deadline.
Had it been any other crime spree, she would've been able to spin a wondrous tale about it. Perhaps the robberies were linked to the mafia, making their mark known on the rich and greedy. Or a surfacing drug ring that was rising in the underbelly of the city, selling off the stolen items to fund their rapidly growing empire.
But each time she started to flesh out any of those ideas, a gnawing presence rose in her stomach, and she found herself deleting the lies. Why did it have to be this particular crime that she had been assigned? Why was this particular story the one that her entire career hinged upon?
Closing her eyes and groaning, her hands covered her face and pressed down over her eyes. She needed to sleep for a couple of years just to deal with all the stress that was piling on top of her. Everything was falling apart, and it wasn't something she could just overlook anymore.
Sitting up slowly, she pushed herself up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen before a sharp rapping on the door had her turning. Walking over and pulling open the heavy door as much as the strung across chain lock would allow, she found herself staring at a broad chest. Her gaze traveled higher until she was staring at eyes the color of frost on an early morning window.
"Can I help you?"
She asked, her tone timid and soft as the large figure standing in front of her door towered over her.
"Are you Wanda Maximoff?"
His voice was deep and smooth, and she found her heart beginning to beat faster as a dangerous notion crept inside her head. Could he be?
"Yes, and you are?"
She arched a brow at him, glancing down as he began to move and spotting a motorcycle helmet tucked up under one arm as he reached out, extending a hand out to her.
"James Barnes, I'm here about the extra room."
Catching her breath, Wanda barely nodded her head, closing the door while sliding the chain free before pulling it open and standing aside, making room for him to walk in.
He was at least half a foot taller than she was, and as she closed the door behind him, she found her eyes moving to his left hand in fascination.
The awkward tension was suffocating as she clasped her hands together, keeping a couple of steps behind him as his eyes traveled around the room before landing on the open computer on her table.
"Sorry to come so late, I got caught up at work."
He apologized, shifting on his feet as Wanda shook her head vigorously.
"N-No, it's alright. I can take your coat, if you want. I tend to keep the heat up rather high."
She offered, walking up to him cautiously. She had been so afraid of a reclusive hermit, she'd never considered the fact that Steve had military friends too, and that they would be, well, this intimidating.
He had long dark hair that hit his shoulders, and with those icy hues watching her every move, she felt rather out of place in her own home.
"Sure."
He said, and for a moment, she swore she could see a look of nervousness on his face before the stoic nature returned.
Handing her the helmet, he pulled off the heavy leather jacket and passed it to her, watching as she folded it carefully over her arm and laid the two items on the table.
Turning back around, she felt her face flushing, warmth creeping up her neck and flooding into her cheeks as she stared at him. He wore a black short sleeved shirt, and his arms, well, they were huge.
Emerald orbs skimmed over his right arm, lingering momentarily on a white bandage stretched over a majority of the skin, before she is stuck staring at the left appendage, the metal gleaming faintly in the soft light.
"Spacious."
He remarked, looking around, seemingly oblivious to her prying stares as he made his way into the dining room.
Swallowing thickly, Wanda trailed after him and wrung her fingers together anxiously.
"Yeah.. Uhm, there's two bedrooms, each on opposite ends of the hall. Kind've an open concept thing with the living room and kitchen area. And there are two bathrooms, each adjoining the bedrooms."
She explained, forcing her eyes to look anywhere but at him now, afraid of being rude with her incessant staring.
"I'm guessing Steve never told you."
"What?"
Turning, the man is practically on top of her with how close she'd stepped, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he stared down at her.
"About this,"
He stated, holding his arm up as a wary look passed through his eyes.
"You seem very unnerved by it, so I'm assuming Steve didn't tell you."
"N-No, he didn't. But i-it's fine, really."
She stuttered out, holding her hands up and backing up a step, wanting more space between them while trying to give him some kind of reassurance. He took notice of the way she pulled away from him as he took a step back himself.
"Did he tell you we served in the military together?"
Wanda shook her head slightly, though she had guessed that was where they might've met. He didn't seem like the kind of person Steve would have met in an art store.
"Two tours." He bobbed his head, lowering his arm and shoving his hands in his pockets, flinching ever so slightly at the movement of his bandaged arm. "Steve came away from it with three medals, and I came back with this."
The wry laugh and bitter tone worried the woman, but what concerned her more was the way the man stared at the floor, like he was recalling something from his time there. Steve never said why he was looking for a place, or why he was leaving their shared apartment. Was James still stuck in the past?
"I didn't realize they had such advanced technology overseas." She spoke quietly, her head moving to one side as she looked at the way his arm was crafted so meticulously. "What happened?"
The question left her before she could think better of herself, and she regretted it the moment she saw the broken expression he wore.
"I-I mean-"
"You said the bedrooms were over that way?"
The abrupt change in topic is followed by James turning and walking towards the hall, leaving the woman standing frozen, her mouth open mid apology.
"R-Right, yeah."
She nodded, trailing behind him while mentally berating herself. What was she thinking? The guy had a fully working prosthetic arm that he got while overseas. Of course he wouldn't want to talk about it.
"Over there is mine," She pointed, slipping ahead of him and pushing open the second door, reaching in and flipping on the light before moving out of the way. "And this is the other."
She had managed to put a couple of the boxes into her own room after returning from the top of the roof, but her resolve had crumbled the moment she'd found an old photo.
"The last tenant didn't want their stuff?"
James questioned, stepping inside and looking around, walking in further to look at the bathroom and peer into the closet.
"It's uhm, kind've complicated. But all this can be put into storage if you decide you like the place."
She shrugged, biting down on her bottom lip while watching him walk around. After a couple of minutes he stopped next to the window, peering out at the fire escape.
"That work?"
"The ladder? Yeah, but it's a bit rickety and it only connects to my window, not to mention the landlord discourages roof access, so it's probably best to pretend it's not there."
The way she said it indicates he'll never step foot out there, and he seemed to gather that message as he pulled away and turned to face her.
"It's a nice place you've got here. Why the sudden opening?"
Wrapping her arms around herself, Wanda let out an awkward laugh.
"Oh, you know. This and that. So what do you think, you like it?"
"Yeah, it's nice. Further from work than I'd like, but it shouldn't be bad."
"Right, Steve mentioned you worked for the police. You're like, a crime scene person right?"
"Forensic photographer, actually. I go in, take pictures of everything. Not really exciting but you know."
He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets again.
"Steve never actually told me what it is you do, or how you guys met."
"Oh, really? I thought he would've. We work at the paper together."
The moment the words leave her mouth he is shaking his head, a scoff leaving him.
"Is that a problem?"
"What? No, sorry."
He shakes his head again, his shoulders relaxing as the annoyed look is replaced by an amused smirk.
"Steve and I just had a constant ongoing fight over him trying to dig stories out of me, and I told him when I moved out I would never room with a journalist again. I'm just finding this all quite ironic now."
"Don't worry," She laughed, brushing a stray hair out of her eyes while smiling up at him. "I already have my own connections. My Godfather actually works as a detective."
"Really? What's his name, maybe I know him."
"Clint Barton."
She said, watching the smirk transform into a sudden, and rather brief, grin.
"Damn. Never knew he had a kid. Or a Godchild. Course he's not really forth coming with his personal life. I do know him though, great guy. Good cop, too. He helped me land a job there."
Wanda nodded in understanding, skimming her fingers over the desk and forcing her eyes away from the man.
"He's a great man. He's helped me through a lot."
She murmured, her voice falling at the end of her sentence. Clint had been there through it all. She wouldn't be where she was had it not been for what he'd done for her. For them. And now..
What would it be like to have someone else living there? All her memories, all her laughs, they took place there. And they all took place with him.
"You okay?"
Glancing up, Wanda blinked quickly, forcing the moisture out of her eyes.
"I'm fine. So, do you think you'll want to live here?"
Her voice is softer than before, working to mask the emotion that was building the longer she stayed in the room.
"Yeah, I mean it's nice. Are the walls pretty thick? I work odd hours and I don't want to wake you up if I come home late or leave early."
She nearly laughed at his question, unable to fully explain the odd hours she herself now kept.
"Fairly thick. I'm a light sleeper though, I wake up to even the crickets outside, so there's no need to worry about that."
She offered, running her hands down her arms.
"Is there anything else I need to know, or do?"
He asked, and as her eyes look up at his face, she sees for the first time the way he avoids looking at her as well as the darker colored tint across his own face. Was he feeling as awkward as she was? That was a relief, actually.
He seemed nice enough, like he wouldn't cause any trouble. She had been nervous about him working for the police, but a photographer couldn't even be considered a cop, could they?
"I don't think so. I'd ask for references, but Steve boasted about you so much that I don't think any you had would even compare."
She laughed, resting her arms over her chest and smiling gently at him.
"I'll have a key for you made tomorrow, and you can move in at any point after that. I have a folder with all the rent payments and utilities, as well as a parking space cost. Rent is due on the fourth of every month, but the landlord is pretty nice about giving a couple days extension if you're behind."
She explained, walking out of the room and back towards the kitchen to retrieve the packet she had made up for him.
"The neighbors are fairly quiet, and no one even lives in the room next door, but there are a couple of guys below us you should be careful of. Kind of sketchy, but harmless so far. They claim to be brothers, and that's their Impala parked in the corner. If you have any trouble with them, or any of the tenants, I can file a report to the landlord."
She is talking rapidly, trying to recall all the information she had been going over in her head for weeks now, and suddenly finding herself falling short of everything she wanted to say.
"Any questions?"
She asked, turning and holding out the file for him.
"I don't think so. You said that stuff in the room can go in storage?"
"Mhm."
She murmured, her fingers fidgeting with one another.
"Well then, Wanda Maximoff, it's been a pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow."
He stated, a genuine smile rising to his lips as he pulled on his jacket, scooping up his helmet and the file together.
"It has, James Barnes."
She chuckled, watching him walk towards the door while following behind.
"Tell me something," He began, opening the door and stepping outside, snow falling gently from the sky once more and creating a beautiful backdrop behind him. "What were you expecting, when Steve told you about me I mean?"
Pressing her lips together, Wanda laughed weakly, running her fingers over the back of her neck.
"That bad, huh?"
The man smirked as Wanda shook her head quickly.
"No! Nothing bad. I mean.. I thought you might be a recluse is all."
She shrugged, watching his smirk waver a moment.
"I am."
He admitted, much to her surprise.
"I also had the fear you'd be, well, rather messy."
She said quietly, the discomfort audible in her tone as he laughed.
"Now that you don't have to worry about. Even if I were, I don't have very much to lie around. Steve's more of the messy one. I promise, Wanda, half the time you won't even know I'm here." He promised, stepping back and further out into the cold night. "See you later."
He winked, turning around and walking towards the steps before descending, leaving the woman watching him until he disappeared from sight.
Closing the door slowly and leaning her back against it, the conversations raced through her mind as her face grew warmer.
"Oh my God.." She whispered, her body sliding down the door until she hit the floor, her hands rising to her face. "Oh my God! I can't believe I said that!"
She groaned, the back of her head bumping against the door. He had been so nice, and she had just babbled like an idiot. Why had she asked about his arm? Why had she rambled on about those strange men below them? Why would he want to share a place with someone like her?
Sliding her fingers down her face until she was staring across the room where she could see the light filtering onto the floor from the other bedroom, her heart dropped in her chest.
There was no going back now even if James did think she was an idiot. She'd officially given his room away. God.. She felt like such an ass now.. Like she'd just given up hope completely.
Reaching into the pocket of her sweatshirt, she pulled out the folded photo she'd discovered earlier, the edges worn and the quality fading. Despite all of that, she could still plainly make out the two teenagers standing there.
One was her, during the era of her worst hairstyle choice ever. And next to her was a young man, with dark silvery hair, and bright hazel colored eyes staring teasingly at the camera. He looked so much like her it hurt, her slim fingers reaching out and skimming over the boy's face carefully.
"I miss you.."
She murmured, her head bowing while tears burned her eyes as the picture bent towards her, revealing quickly scrawled writing on the back.
'Wanda and Pietro, twins' sixteenth birthday'
