Author's note: Alternate-universe fic is written for the prompt for AUgust Day 2: exotic vacation
Vacation Days
Wanda had never vacationed alone before. It had been years since she'd been on vacation at all. She thought a resort in the Caribbean would be perfect, but after a few days of sunbathing, snorkeling, and bar hopping, she'd had enough of the crowd of other tourists. In the mood to do something spontaneous, she'd checked out and gotten in line for the next ferry, and had ended up on this little island she'd never heard of before, with a small town nestled between a crescent of beach and steep, verdant hills.
That was yesterday.
Today, she'd explored the island. She'd gone snorkeling in a cove on the north shore, recommended to her by the cashier at the general store where she'd bought fruit for breakfast. She'd seen more wildlife there than in the waters around the resort, including coral, sea anemones, starfish, and an octopus. She'd eaten a late lunch at a seafood restaurant near the hotel, then read a novel on the beach. Now she walked barefoot through the sand, watching the sunset fade over the waves, wondering what to do next.
She passed an open air bar and decided to check it out.
The drinking area consisted of card tables and folding chairs set up in the sand under umbrellas. The tables were all occupied by couples enjoying the sunset at the moment, so she took a seat at the bar and read over a menu, gracefully handwritted on stationery paper set beneath a plastic panel. This place had a very different vibe than the touristy bars at the resort.
A tall, blond bartender seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"Welcome, welkum, bienvenida, bienvenue!" he said smoothly.
He had the most mellifluous voice she'd ever heard, with what she thought was a British accent. She was so entranced by it, it took her a moment to register he'd greeted her in every language common to the Caribbean to see which one she'd respond in.
"Thank you."
"What can I get for you?" he inquired.
"Um...how about a grog?"
"Ah, do you fancy yourself a pirate?" he asked teasingly.
She laughed. "Might as well play one while I'm here. Ahoy, matey!" She knew she sounded ridiculous, and immediately asked herself why she'd said that, and promptly answered herself that the presence of a hot guy always shorted out her brain.
He gave her a patient smile. "One grog coming up."
She munched on some nuts as she watched him mix the cocktail—water, brown sugar, lime juice, and rum. His motions were smooth and efficient. She handed him a $10 bill and he reached in a pocket of his apron to fish out some change.
"Are you American?" he inquired conversationally.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Your accent confused me."
"I'm originally from Sokovia."
"Ah. I see." Like most people, he didn't seem to quite know how to respond to that.
"You from England?" she asked, trying to offer him a change of subject.
"Yes, originally. West London."
"How did you end up here?" She sipped at her drink as she waited for his story, hoping he wouldn't consider her rude for being so nosy. She really just wanted to hear his voice some more.
He shrugged. "I graduated from uni, returned to my hometown, became an accountant, married my high school sweetheart, divorced my high school sweetheart after we both accepted how much we'd changed, realized I hated accounting, decided to travel on my savings as I reevaluated my life, got offered a temporary job here after a previous bartender quit literally in the middle of his shift, fell in love with the island, and decided to stay."
"This place does seem like paradise," she said.
"You wouldn't want to be here for hurricane season," he stated.
He drifted away to attend to other customers, and she focused on her drink. His story fascinated her. To just on a whim decide to settle down somewhere, leaving behind your old life to start completely fresh. She wished she were that bold.
He turned on some floodlights as the natural light faded.
Wanda looked over the menu again, not wanting to leave. "When you have a minute, could I get a piña colada?"
"Of course."
He brought her the requested drink, then returned to his work, filling fresh snack bowls, staying close enough to her to be on hand if she wanted anything else.
"When you were traveling, where did you go?" she asked.
"Oh, loads of places. I set foot on every continent. I've never been to Sokovia, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, it's not that popular on the tourist circuit." She wouldn't usually say more on the subject, but the alcohol and the handsome bartender's sympathetic attentiveness were conspiring to loosen her tongue. "My parents died when I was ten, in the civil war. The second one. My twin brother and I grew up moving from one refugee camp to another. He married an American woman he met online and moved to New York. I managed to get a work visa and follow him there, and then five years ago..." She paused, and concluded in a quiet voice. "He died. Car accident." She waved off the condolences she saw the bartender preparing before he could offer them. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you all this. You're just trying to do your job and I'm unloading my life's story on you."
"I don't mind. Hearing people's life stories is what I love about this job. I'm so sorry about your brother. I'm sorry about your parents. What you have been through is more than anyone should have to endure."
He sounded so sincere. "Thank you," she said.
A newly arrived customer waved from a table. "Hey, Vision, can I get my usual down here?"
"I'll be right with you, Ernesto." To Wanda, he said, "Pardon me a moment."
With him out of her direct line of sight, she realized the stars were starting to come out, shining with stunning clarity in the twilight sky. The ocean breeze toyed with her hair. The alcohol was giving her a pleasant, carefree lightheadedness.
When the bartender returned, she asked incredulously, "Your name is Vision?"
"It's a nickname," he replied, embarrassed. "My boss started calling me 'twenty/twenty vision' when I was the only one able to read the name on an incoming cruise ship. After a few days, it became just 'vision'. The name stuck, and I don't mind it. I never much cared for my given name."
"What's your given name?"
"Victor," he stated.
That jarred her for a moment, but she didn't let it show. "Why don't you like it?"
"Having a name that literally means 'the winner' sounds like someone who not only usually wins, but cares about winning, as if beating other people and coming out on top is important, as if life is some kind of contest. That was never me. I never felt it suited me."
"It doesn't," Wanda agreed. "I don't like the name Victor either. Ex-boyfriend. Ex-fiancé, actually. And the name suited him perfectly."
"Then please feel free to call me Vision," he said emphatically, as if sharing a name with her ex was a blunder on his part.
"I will. I like that."
"And... Do you mind if I ask your name?" The slight shyness in his voice when he posed that question, and the fact that he asked it at all, was the first indication that Wanda's crush might be requited. That was kind of surprising. Usually she could pick up on when guys were attracted to her right away. Most guys were stupid obvious about it. Maybe Vision was different from most guys.
"Wanda," she answered.
"Wanda. That's a beautiful name."
"I always thought it sounds too much like the kind of name they'd give a witch in an old movie."
Vision chuckled. "That's not such a bad thing, is it?"
"I guess not," she laughed.
He cleared his throat, and made himself look busy polishing glasses. "So, Wanda, what brings you to our little island?"
"Two weeks of use-it-or-lose-it paid vacation. Usually I just stay home for my vacations, but this year I felt like I had to go somewhere new or go crazy. I wanted to go somewhere completely different from anywhere I'd ever been before, so I booked the cheapest flight I could find to the tropics."
"What do you do for a living?" he inquired.
"I route mail at a postal distribution center."
"That sounds interesting," he said unconvincingly.
"It's really not," she replied. "It's the kind of job almost anyone could do, but no one wants to. I've lasted longer there than anyone else I work with."
"That's something," he assured her. His eyes caught some customers in need of attending to. "Please pardon me again."
Alone with her thoughts, with the delicious piña colada on her tongue, the soothing sound of the waves, and the presence of the sympathetic and gorgeous bartender, Wanda realized this moment was the most contentment she'd felt in years.
Ever, maybe?
She ordered a beer. It was getting late, but she wanted to draw the night out a little longer. She asked Vision more about the places he'd been, and plied him with questions about the wide assortment of bottles on the shelves behind him, impressed by his broad knowledge of mixology. She forgot most of what he said a minute after he said it. By that point, there were only a couple of straggling customers left, and Vision was clearly starting the process of closing the bar for the night. She didn't want to inconvenience him. The next time his back was turned, she left a generous tip, picked up her current bottle of beer, and departed.
She walked along the beach with her beer in one hand and her shoes in the other. To her right was the view of the sea, framed by coconut palms, gleaming under the moon and stars. To the left, the sight of the welcoming lights of the town was almost as enchanting.
She could see herself living in a place like this, a tropical island tucked away from the wider world. Maybe she didn't belong in such a place, but ever since a bomb destroyed her childhood home in a dilapidated apartment building in an old eastern European capital, she hadn't felt like she really belonged anywhere.
"Wanda!"
Her name pronounced by that voice brought her around to Vision's opinion that it was a beautiful name. She turned to see him sprinting after her down the beach.
"I'm so glad I caught up with you. You forgot your wallet." He held it out to her as he spoke.
"Oh." She was simultaneously touched by his consideration and disappointed that was all it was. "Thank you."
"It can be tricky getting up to the hotel in the dark. Would you like me to walk with you?"
"Don't you need to get back to the bar?"
"Hilaire can finish closing up," he said.
"Hilaire?"
"The busboy."
"Oh." She recalled the young man working at the bar, removing used cups and wiping down tables. She hadn't caught his name.
"If you are uncomfortable walking with a man you barely know at night, let me at least get you a flashlight. I have one back at the bar. I can..."
"No, it's fine. I don't mind you walking with me." She trusted Vision. And she did appreciate his offer. She wasn't even sure which of the illuminated windows overlooking the beach was the town's only hotel.
"Okay. This way."
Vision led her up the beach, and in less than five minutes they were outside the hotel.
"Have a good night, Wanda. I have enjoyed our conversation. I hope to see you again while you're here. If not, enjoy the rest of your vacation."
He was so polite and considerate. It was driving her crazy.
"Vizh, wait."
He looked at her curiously.
Without thinking much about what she was doing, she stepped up to him and kissed him, full on the lips. He made a half-startled, half-appreciative sound in his throat, and moved closer to her, stooping to accommodate her height. His hand spread across her mid back.
Wisps of thought drifted through Wanda's head only to fade into a haze of pleasure. He was a great kisser. Responsive, undemandingly exploratory, reveling in the kisses rather than treating them as just an invitation or stepping stone to more intimate acts, as some men did.
After a few minutes of kissing, Wanda wanted more. Her hand ran down his chest and abs and over the front of his pants, where she felt his erection straining against his shorts.
He pushed her hands away and stepped back abruptly, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry. We have to stop."
"You're taken?" she asked, heart sinking. Of course he was. How could someone so great not be?
"What? No. Not at all. It's just..." He placed his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them soothingly. "You've had a bit to drink. I will not take advantage of you. I should not have kissed you like that."
"You're not taking advantage of me. I want to do this."
He gave her a slightly chiding look. "Wanda, I...I do like you. But...you need to get some sleep and clear your head. If you're still interested tomorrow... Do you know where Molly's Café is?"
"It's next to the laundromat, right?" She'd been there to wash her clothes the night before.
"That's right. I will be there tomorrow at noon. If I see you there, I'll buy you a coffee and we can talk more. If not, I'll...I'll understand. Goodnight, Wanda." He took her hand and kissed it softly, then hurried away like he was afraid he'd change his mind if he lingered.
Suddenly alone, Wanda became aware of the calls of frogs and insects filling the night air. She looked down at her hand, where Vision had left his last kiss. That kiss sank into her more than any other they'd shared in their make-out session.
In a daze, she went to bed.
Rain drizzled down the windows of Molly's Café, where Vision sat with a cup of tea, willing himself not to check the time, trying to tell himself she wouldn't come, and that he would be okay with it if she didn't come.
He never did this. He never flirted with customers. He had a strict policy against it. He conversed with any customer who came to the bar alone, knowing well how oppressive loneliness was and how easily it could be assuaged by a sympathetic ear, but flirting was off the table. For one thing, he regarded flirting with a customer to be unprofessional and manipulative behavior. Surely even if he were genuinely interested in someone, they would think he was just angling for a better tip. But more than that, he was well enough acquainted with his own heart to know it was a bad idea to risk getting attached to someone who would soon disappear from his life. Usually, when a customer showed a romantic interest in him, he would mention a non-existent girlfriend to dissuade them. He'd wondered last night why he didn't deploy that tactic with Wanda.
As soon as she'd walked up to the bar, he'd noted she was cute. But as the night progressed, as her story unfolded in her entrancing accent, he'd been increasingly intrigued. By the end of the night, he'd come to believe she might be the most fascinating person he'd ever met, and when she'd kissed him, he'd felt himself willing to have his heart broken as the cost of knowing her.
Part of him hoped she wouldn't come. It would save him that heartache. At least, that's what he told himself.
But then she walked through the door, soaked with rain, looking even more beautiful than she had last night.
He stood to meet her. "You came."
"I couldn't stay away," she said.
"Would you like coffee, tea, perhaps hot chocolate?"
"You really don't have to pay for me. I can buy my own coffee."
"I made an offer I won't go back on. Besides, the tip you left me last night more than covers a cup of coffee." He said it as a joke, but he honestly felt guilty about the size of the tip she'd left.
After a moment, she nodded. "I'll take a small latte."
While she went to the restroom, Vision ordered her latte, a refill of his tea, and two biscotti. He ignored the teasing wink Molly gave him as she brought them to his table.
Wanda emerged from the restroom after a few minutes, still damp but no longer dripping. She joined him, giving him an uncertain smile. "I wasn't sure if you'd really be here."
He nodded. "I didn't know if you would come."
"I'm sorry about last night. I made an ass of myself. Thank you for being a gentleman."
"I hardly felt gentlemanly last night," he admitted.
She gave him an incredulous look. "If...what I wanted to happen had happened, I wouldn't have regretted it, but that you didn't...makes me want to get to know you even more."
He looked at her searchingly. She seemed nervous. He didn't quite understand why she would be nervous.
"I would like to get to know you better too," he said. "Do you mind if I ask, why didn't it work out with your fiancé?" He hoped the question wouldn't offend her. He was just very curious why anyone would leave this woman.
She winced slightly. "Victor. I met him a few months after my brother died. He was smart, successful, suave, and...not really cute, but attractive in a rugged, bad-boy kind of way. And...I'm not proud of this, but...he had money, which was something I was really worried about at the time. But you know how I said his name suited him? I didn't notice it at first, but the longer I knew him, the more I realized he always had to have the last word in every argument, and he couldn't admit to anyone being better than him at anything. If he lost at a game, he'd blame it on bad luck, but never thought it was just good luck if he won. Our last fight was after we had some friends over, and he took credit for something I'd done. I don't even remember what it was, just something small and inconsequential. I didn't contradict him, but later I asked him why he'd said it, and he acted like it was no big deal, and didn't get why it would bother me. The next day, I called in sick to work, packed up my things, and moved in with a co-worker. I left a note telling him to only call me if it was to apologize. He called me that night, and said he was sorry I'd 'misconstrued' what he said. I hung up and never talked to him again."
"The nerve! I'm so glad you got out."
"It wasn't all bad. I think he really did love me, as much as he could love anyone besides himself. And I loved him, but looking back I don't think I loved him for him. It was just that, at that time in my life I just needed someone to love, if that makes sense."
"It does."
"That was three years ago. It was hard for a while, but I've never been sorry I left," she said with a smile.
He nodded. He was relieved to hear it, and was ready to change the subject. "Would you like to tell me about your brother? You don't have to if you'd rather not talk about him."
"No, it's okay." Her smile flickered, but didn't go away. "Pietro was bold, proud, strong-willed, and very protective of me. He never would have approved of me going on vacation by myself."
Her left hand was resting on the table. He looked at it for a moment before daring to reach out and take it.
She didn't object.
As delicate as her hand looked, he could feel an unexpected strength in it when she squeezed his hand back.
They talked at the café for over an hour. The rain still hadn't let up.
"My house isn't far from here. It's closer than the hotel, at least. Would you like to go there to wait out the rain? Or I could walk you to the hotel. I have an umbrella."
"I'd love to see your place," Wanda said.
They ventured into the rain, Vision holding his umbrella angled to keep Wanda mostly dry and himself about half dry.
"Now that you know what a rain storm here is like, do you still think it's paradise?" Vision asked.
"To be this lush and green, it has to rain sometime," she replied blithely.
He could imagine himself falling in love with this woman.
He guided her up the cracked concrete steps to his small house. The anole that lived on his wall was taking shelter under the eaves. It fanned out its sunset-hued dewlap as if in greeting.
Vision opened the door and let Wanda enter before shaking off his umbrella, closing it, and hanging it on a peg just inside.
"You don't lock your door?" she asked.
"No one does around here."
She took a tentative step inside and looked around. His house was tidy, but small and sparsely furnished. It was basically three rooms: the living room/bedroom taking up half the house, the kitchen and bathroom the other. In the living room, besides his bed and chest of drawers, there was a well-stocked bookshelf and a small table with two wooden chairs.
"I know it isn't much, but it's home," he said apologetically.
"It's perfect," she assured him.
He took her hand and tugged her toward him. She playfully spun around into his arms. He kissed her. He just kissed her, and it was better than anything he could remember ever feeling before.
She kissed him back eagerly, a little bolder than him. Between kisses, she managed to say, "Shouldn't you get out of your wet clothes?"
"Are you sure—mmm—that's what you want?"
"Yes," she breathed.
He rolled off his damp shirt, and more slowly removed his pants. Wanda stepped back, her eyes gliding over his bare skin as it came into view.
The look she was giving him, like she was entranced by his body, was arousing, and by the time he'd stripped off his clothes, he was hard.
She moved to him, took his hands, and placed them on the hem of her shirt, encouraging him to take it off her. He happily complied, slowly—almost reverently—lifting it off, leaving her in a white cotton bra and shorts.
Vision gawked at her. Without his conscious direction, his hands reached out and touched the soft skin of her waist. She stepped toward him, pressing herself against his naked body. Their lips connected again, tongues exploring each other's mouths. Vision's erection bobbed along her stomach. He stooped to bury his lips in her neck. Her long, approving moan somehow made him even more turned on.
He let his hand slide into her shorts, under her panties. She was unbelievably wet. He slid two fingers inside her. His entire being focused on those two fingers as they felt her slick, silken vagina squeeze around them. He curled his fingers, stroking her.
Her mouth found his. Her body rocked against him, increasing contact with his hand and rubbing her hip against his cock. When she gasped into his mouth and her pelvic muscles clenched around his fingers, he came suddenly and unexpectedly on her shorts.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I...I didn't mean to do that. That hasn't happened to me in years."
"It's okay."
She took her shorts off, and he found himself staring, enraptured by the sight of her bare hips.
"Will you let me make it up to you?" he asked, not meaning for his voice to sound so husky.
"If you would like," she answered.
He knelt in front of her and pulled down her underwear. He kissed her hips and thighs, slowly moving inward. Finally he reached her clit. His lips sucked it between them, his tongue flicked over it. He listened to Wanda's breaths come faster and faster, and he slowed, taking his time, delighting in the feel and the taste and the sound of her.
"Ohhh," she gasped, clutching a handful of his hair as she came again.
He eased off, placing some more kisses on the insides of her thighs before rising.
"You are really good at that," she panted. "I need a break."
"Of course."
He handed her a teeshirt from his drawer so she would have something dry to wear, then went to the bathroom to rinse off her shorts, and put them and her shirt in the drier for a few minutes.
When he returned, he found her glancing through one of the books from his bookshelf. The sight of her in his teeshirt, hair damp, book in hand... She was the most alluring thing he'd ever seen, and for a few moments he just stared.
She glanced up at him and smirked. "Ready for round two already?"
He realized he was hard again, which was obvious because he was still naked. His hands reflexively moved to cover it.
She laughed. "We're a little bit past modesty at this point, don't you think?"
"I suppose we are," he agreed with an embarrassed smile.
She returned the book to the shelf and sat on his bed. "You got a condom?"
"Yes." He got one from his bathroom medicine cabinet and returned to her. He watched her watching him as he rolled it on.
She opened her legs invitingly.
"Oh God. Wanda..." He loved the way her name felt in his mouth, the matching open vowels like waves rolling in. The name tasted ancient and mysterious.
He sat on the bed next to her, placed his hands on her cheeks, and kissed her slowly. Only after that did he divest her of his borrowed shirt, leaving her once again in nothing but her bra. He made a trail of open-mouthed kisses across her chest before taking off her bra and trailing his lips and tongue down until he caught her hard nipple in his mouth. He nibbled and sucked on it, swirling his tongue around it. He circled and squeezed her other nipple between his fingers. Wanda moaned and wrapped her legs around him.
Vision lay her down on the bed and kissed his way back to her mouth before sliding inside her. She exhaled slowly, almost a sigh.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes."
Bracing his elbows on the bed on either side of Wanda's waist, he started pumping into her, slowly at first, letting her get used to him. She guided his head down to her and kissed him. He increased the pace. Her hands explored him, running through his hair and over his muscles. She found his nipples and squeezed them, and he had to bite his lip to keep from coming from that.
He shifted his weight to one arm and moved his hand between them, fingering her clit and bouncing it with each thrust.
"Oh. Vision. Vizh. Oh God. Ahhh."
As she gasped he pressed harder, feeling her shudder around him. It was too much. He came with a cry of, "Wanda!"
"Ohhh."
He collapsed on top of her, breathing into her hair and neck. Her fingers trailed lightly over his back as she caught her breath. After a minute, he slid out of her and propped himself up on his elbow. He stroked her hair, gazing at her face.
She smiled at him. "That was...fantastic."
"Yes it was," he agreed.
They lay next to each other for a few minutes, listening to the soft patter of rain. Then Vision mentally talked himself into getting up and getting dressed. He brought Wanda her freshly dried clothes.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
As she got dressed, she asked, "Do you have to go to work soon?"
"I don't have to be there until six. I would like to buy you dinner first. If..." He suddenly felt uncertain. Did Wanda want to spend more of her precious vacation time with him now that she'd gotten what she wanted? "If you would like to, of course."
She smiled again. She really did have such a beautiful smile. "That sounds great."
Wanda spent at least a few hours with Vision every day for the rest of her vacation. It was hands down the best week of her life. Now he stood beside her at the pier as she waited to board the ferry.
She didn't want to.
This was supposed to be a fling, a whirlwind vacation romance, but she couldn't stand the thought of her life without him.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. He hadn't spoken much since they got to the pier. He was staring out over the water, his expression melancholy.
"What if I miss the boat?"
He looked at her, frowning in confusion. They were right here; there was no danger of her missing it. "There will be another one tomorrow..."
"What if I miss all the boats?" she clarified. "What if I don't want to go back? What if I stay?"
His demeanor changed. He shifted toward her, looking at her questioningly, unsure whether she was serious. "It...isn't impossible. I did it. But you have to be sure. I don't know what your citizenship status is, but... What you're feeling right now may change on reflection. If you go back to your normal life, you can always choose to come back here. If you stay here, you may not be able to go back there. You would lose everything you've built for yourself."
She nodded. It was a reasonable point. She could go back to her apartment, to her job, live her regular life, with the pleasant memories she'd made of this island and of Vision to play in her head during long, mind-numbing shifts at work. She could come back here on her next vacation, maybe even on long weekends. It wasn't that long or expensive a flight.
But even if she did that, she could go months without seeing Vision. And what if something happened that prevented her from coming back? What if she never saw him again?
What did she have back there? A job she didn't particularly like, but she could call her boss to say she was quitting. Most of her belongings, but she had enough with her to suffice, especially since she wouldn't need her winter clothes on this island. She could call her roommates to tell them they could keep the rest of her things or get rid of them. There was nothing she'd left that she couldn't live without. She'd lose her deposit on the apartment by breaking her lease, but that seemed worth it. What did she have there to go back to? What did she have there that was better than what she might have here?
She turned to Vision. "If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?"
"Of course," he replied.
"Do you want me to stay?"
He looked stunned. She waited.
"Yes," he finally answered, his voice quiet and choked. "But what I want shouldn't influence your decision. Your life."
She dropped her duffel bag and stepped up to him, putting her hands on his cheeks. "I'm staying."
"This isn't a decision to make lightly..."
"I'm not. I'm sure. I have never been more sure about anything." She felt like there was a voice in the back of her head screaming at her to stay, to not lose this chance at happiness most people would never have.
Vision stared at her for another moment—trying to decide whether he should talk her out of it, judging by the look on his face—then came to a decision of his own and abruptly kissed her with a passion and abandon she'd never felt from him before.
She missed the boat.