A/N: ScarletVision festive fic, because I couldn't resist. Really this is four parts fluff and not a lot else because these two deserve it so much.
Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.
Light Up My Life
Chapter 1
Humans were an infinite source of wonder for Vision. He had initially imagined that it would take a matter of weeks to learn everything there was to know about them, and in turn to internalise their patterns of behaviour, to achieve a near-perfect replication to utilise for himself as he lay the foundations of his existence.
As it went, he had come to realise that he was far more naïve than anyone – including himself, in his foolishness – had expected him to be.
Months on from his creation, he was continuing to discover many things about humans. It seemed that they possessed an endless amount of quirks and idiosyncrasies, with an almost unfathomable variation between each individual. Some days were spent in a state of listlessness which it was very hard to dismiss as he seriously considered that, despite all of his best efforts, he would never come close enough as he desired to being thought of as one of them (he was not so deluded as to consider that any of them would ever honestly see him as their equal).
The latest phenomenon that he had picked up upon was their extreme fondness for occasion. As he understood it, if a certain event or individual was revered enough then humans would take great pleasure in celebrating, sometimes for more than one day. It was a strange occurrence, but one which he found to be joyful on the whole, witnessing the lengths that would be gone to in order to create happiness and elation, merely for the sake of it.
There had been consecutive occasions lately, winding into one another. First there was Hallowe'en, which Vision did not find himself caring for all that much. From what he could determine it appeared to consist of an escalation of stunts which became steadily more elaborate, as Mr Stark, Colonel Rhodes and Sergeant Wilson competed to cause the highest elevation of terror in one another. Captain Rogers refrained from taking part, being disapproving of such sport, and both Miss Romanoff and Miss Maximoff – Wanda – were completely unaffected by the plastic severed heads and limbs that fell from opened doors and shrieks of screams that sounded from darkness, belonging to a subsequently deflated Colonel Rhodes.
Thanksgiving followed, a holiday which Captain Rogers did enjoy. Unfortunately as it was largely centered around consuming copious amounts of food, Vision was unable to experience a comparable level of satisfaction, though he did like viewing the parade which stretched through the city. Wanda sat with him by the large window of the compound as the floats and incredibly-oversized balloons drifted below, similarly experiencing the spectacle for the first time.
He liked that he was able to share certain events with someone else who was also coming to them new and with no expectation. Though Wanda had much more experience than he did, it meant that he did not feel quite so isolated. One of the first and most troubling things he had internalised was the near-physical sorrow and abject fear of being alone, and though surely it did not trouble him in the same way as humans felt it, it still resonated, almost as a preternatural force more powerful than anything that contributed to his creation.
For reasons he could not find legitimate explanation for, he was especially pleased that it was Wanda he happened to find such kinship with, opposed to, for example, Sergeant Wilson. Though he would not have found it troubling if that had been the case.
Barely a week had passed since that last holiday and preparations were being made for the next, with particular enthusiasm by Mr Stark, who declared it to be his most favourite of all. That appeared to be reasonable justification for the many modifications he had made, with the much-valued contributions of his robotic assistants, to the Avengers compound in the preceding days. Indeed, there was not a space that had been left untouched by adornment.
Captain Rogers was keen to voice one opinion in the light of Mr Stark's efforts, Vision sensing that it was something that the Captain felt strongly about.
"Sure, there's a place for these fancy high-tech contraptions, but when it comes to the main attraction, we've got to keep it traditional."
It was down to Captain Rogers' super strength that an eight-foot fir tree stood, pride of place, in the main lounge area, not too far away from the window that looked out upon the city.
Even in its natural state it was a wonderful spectacle. He gravitated towards it, allowing himself to levitate so that he was able to take in the full scope. The scent in particular was intriguing, not all of the notes ones which he could classify at first but in combination they were most pleasant.
On the ground Captain Rogers and Colonel Rhodes were holding a long string of wire between them, maneuvering one way and then another in attempts to untangle it. It should have been a very simple task, by all accounts, but as he came closer down again it transpired to be far more complicated, the wire tightly knotted in various places.
Captain Rogers let slip a couple of muttered expletives during the task, which earned sniggers of laughter and a mocking call of "Language!" from Colonel Rhodes. Mr Stark briefly emerged from his lab on hearing his friend's exclamation.
"Pipe down, Capsicle. I don't want you corrupting my robo-son with your filthy mouth."
"Hey, Vision," Colonel Rhodes intoned after the feat was achieved, "we could really do with someone who has the ability to fly unaided to get these fixed to the top."
"Of course –
Miss Romanoff's hand clamped upon his arm before he could glide towards Colonel Rhodes and the string that was trailed across the floor.
"The lights are the worst job," she explained helpfully, a knowing smile curving her lips. "Let's leave those three to it, and once they're done we can work on the baubles. Sound good?"
"I will take your word for it, Miss Romanoff."
Captain Rogers, Colonel Rhodes and Sergeant Wilson did admirably, managing very well between them to cover the tree without the aid of either Colonel Rhodes' War Machine suit or Sergeant Wilson's Falcon wings. Captain Rogers made an announcement before turning the switch, which appeared to amuse Miss Romanoff.
There fell a collective silence as the lights started to life, emitting a soft glow within the compound as they gently twinkled. Vision in particular was awed by the display, moving nearer to the tree along with Miss Romanoff, who held a box of baubles in her hands. Though relatively simple – certainly in contrast to anything comparable that Mr Stark could invent – they were beautiful, the way their clear, bright light danced, illuminating and casting a marvellous shimmer upon what was not dark to begin with.
He felt simultaneously serene and thrilled as he looked upon them, the sensation a peculiar but vastly elevating one. He did not know enough of it to comment, and was still struggling to come to terms with the concept, but he suspected that gazing upon these lights came close to witnessing magic, in its purest form.
"Okay?" Miss Romanoff's voice rose softly in the silence, her question undoubtedly directed towards him.
"Yes," he replied, after a pause, allowing himself the time to compartmentalise – as much as he was able. "I find them…remarkable. Like the stars, if it were possible to collect them from the sky and keep them close at all hours of the day."
He turned his face towards Miss Romanoff once a few minutes had passed and saw the glow reflected upon her features, changing the colour of her hair to a gentler flame. Her eyes were soft and her smile understanding. It was not until later that he became aware that her gaze had been drawn to the stone that resided in his head, though he had registered a shifting in its energy at the time, primarily through a small but discernible rise in temperature.
Captain Rogers turned the switch back to its previous position, and though he was initially saddened by the disappearance of the lights he was soon glad, for they would have proved to be too much of a distraction when it came to resuming the decoration of the tree. Miss Romanoff passed a steady stream of baubles into his hands, and it did not go unnoticed that they were predominantly red and gold, though there were some blue, green, crimson and purple – and even black. There were also six silver baubles, each etched with an Avengers crest.
"I have to tell Tony to get more of these made," Miss Romanoff said as she held the one which also bore an etching of an arrow above its crest. "We need another four."
Vision's gaze was empathetic as he looked down upon her, noticing that she clung onto the bauble for a while before moving to place it upon a prominent branch.
"You know, there's a whole bunch of festive versions of those sweaters you like to wear," Sergeant Wilson addressed him with a smirk from the other side of the tree, "we definitely need to get you some. In fact, I think you ought to wear a different one every day up to New Years', to make up for December already having started."
"I appreciate your attempt at humour, Sergeant Wilson. You have made it considerably easier to decide what I should purchase as a present for you. Though I will have to narrow down the options, there are many fine comedians playing in New York."
"Ooh, burn," Miss Romanoff exclaimed, while Colonel Rhodes chuckled, "that was a good one."
Sergeant Wilson took the comment admirably, patting his hand against Vision's shoulder.
"I think it's looking pretty good," he appraised as they all stood back to admire the finished tree.
"We'll see what Tony thinks," Captain Rogers said from behind them, "he always has the final say."
"I didn't see him getting involved, so I think that negates him getting to have a say," Sergeant Wilson retorted, arms folded across his chest. "Anyway he's Iron Man, not…Christmas Man."
"Now that's a superhero I'd like to see," Colonel Rhodes laughed.
Vision had been acutely aware that Mr Stark was not the only one missing from the scene. Though it had been an enjoyable task there was a hollow apparent within him and the whole atmosphere in the lack of Wanda, and he found himself mourning that she had not taken part. Indeed, he had not seen her since the day's training had finished earlier in the afternoon.
The others continued to talk and laugh as they stood around the once-again illuminated tree, apparently unfazed by the absence of their colleague and friend. In contrast, Vision's concerns grew larger by the second. Terrible notions filled his head, ones which he had repeatedly told Wanda were not true. She was not an outsider. She was not any trouble. They all wanted her there.
Him most of all.
Before the suffocating feelings could overwhelm him he glided up the stairs and along the corridor, until he found himself outside her door, the neurons hidden underneath his synthetic skin feeling as if they were about to explode.
He was about to phase through the closed door but stopped himself in time, remembering what Wanda had told him about knocking. His hand moved slowly, unsure of his hesitation, issuing a gentle but audible tap.
"Wanda," he began, a little caught between the impetus of being polite and wishing to express what he really wanted to discern as soon as possible, "I noticed that you retreated here several hours ago. I apologise if I am intruding, but I felt compelled to check on your welfare."
She did not answer straight away, but it did not cause him great alarm; he had come to know that a slightly delayed response was common for her.
"Thanks, Vizh." Her voice was slightly muffled by the barrier of the door and the ample soundproofing which Mr Stark had furnished the rooms with. "I'm fine."
"I am glad to hear that."
Instead of departing on receiving confirmation of her wellbeing he remained planted to the spot outside of her room, studying first the blank walls in close proximity and then the floor.
"I…would you like something to eat? Or a glass of water? I was planning on going to the kitchen myself, so…"
"You can come through." He detected that her voice sounded more upbeat when she spoke again. "I prefer talking to you face to face."
"Oh, thank you," he responded, sensing another shift in his core temperature. "The same applies to you."
He used the door instead of phasing, believing that it was advisable to become accustomed to the habit. Wanda was sitting on the edge of her bed, a red cloth-covered book which he recognised as her journal to the right side of her. The television was on, but the volume was muted.
"May I…?" He gestured to her left side, which was free of any of her other possessions.
She smiled with closed lips, extending her arm to smooth the comforter that she sat upon. "Of course."
He smiled too as he sat down beside her. They did not need to converse to be comfortable in each other's company, which Vision enjoyed. What humans referred to as 'small talk' he often found to be quite wearying.
"What have you been up to?" Wanda said after a few minutes had passed, curling her legs up on the bed.
"I played a game of chess with Colonel Rhodes. I'm afraid it was over rather quickly, as he does not have a full grasp on the rules. I have said that I will teach him, and in turn he has promised to show me some card games."
She let out a soft, short laugh – an act which did not fail to destabilise him for a second or two each time it happened. "That sounds like fun."
"I then read for a while, until assisting the others, minus Mr Stark, in decorating the tree that Captain Rogers procured yesterday."
Her expression shifted subtly, most likely without her being aware. It was her eyes which were most noticeably altered, even as she glanced away from him momentarily.
"I'm sure you made it look really pretty."
He was aware that her 'you' referred to them as a collective, and yet he still took pride in the comment.
"Sergeant Wilson appears to think so. The biggest judgment is reserved for Mr Stark."
He was at a loss for what to say next, not wishing to linger on the topic and certainly not meaning to make her feel any negative emotion for not contributing, though it would have improved his own enjoyment if she had.
He thought carefully before settling on what he deemed appropriate, taking all factors into consideration.
"We would have welcomed your involvement greatly. Though you do not celebrate Christmas, so I understand entirely if it would have made you feel uncomfortable. I would certainly not wish for that."
He was thrown off course for more than a second as her eyes searched his, the green of her irises appearing to have intensified in their hue.
"None of us would."
He felt a wave of relief at having corrected himself. Though he had not consulted them specifically, he was in little doubt that all of the others would have expressed the same opinion. Particularly Captain Rogers, who frequently demonstrated his concern for Wanda.
"Being around Christmas stuff is okay. There were public trees in Novi Grad every year, even when terrible things were happening." She paused for a moment and he remained silent, allowing her to live within her memories. "I guess it's a comfort, in a weird way. But taking part in it…it would feel different. I'm not sure in a good way."
Vision nodded his head, a gesture of understanding despite their differing experiences.
Wanda shifted slightly, looking down towards the window and frowning. "I suppose I ought to try, though. Otherwise it's just another case of me not fitting in."
"Please don't think that way, Wanda."
The words were out before he could properly evaluate them, the surge of emotion winning over any logical and measured response.
Her eyes seemed to be bigger as she looked at him.
"You need not change anything about yourself to 'fit in', certainly not under this roof, but anywhere. The world would be a poorer place if every person within it was exactly the same." He stopped, a hint of a smile shaping his lips. "Though I admit, it would make matters much easier for me."
She grinned widely at the remark, which he had intended to be humorous, and he felt delighted.
"I want you to know that you are not under any pressure." He kept his gaze set upon her, to accurately relay the depth of the sentiment. "I have no religious affiliation."
"Okay," she replied, a slight rising inflection in her tone.
"I'm sorry, I should have clarified my meaning," he was quick to expand upon seeing the confusion shadow her features, "I would like to celebrate Hanukkah."
"Oh."
In this instance her prolonged silence left him rather unsettled.
"Vizh," she uttered her preferred name for him softly, "you don't need to do that. Not for me, anyway."
"I am aware that I have easy access to knowledge in order to learn about the holiday. But, if past occasions are to go by, I find there is little substitution for lived experience."
She smiled, her face brighter once more, and nodded her head. "Okay. Well, as long as you want to, then I can certainly show you some stuff."
"Thank you. That would mean a great deal to me."
He was coming to realise that what mattered most to him was not the event itself, but spending time with Wanda. It made the idea of immersing himself in the celebrations that led up to Christmas – which it seemed to him would go on for a very long time – far less appealing, knowing that she may well feel uneasy in doing the same.
Before he could revel in too much excited anticipation a related thought occurred to him, which threatened to sour the mood entirely.
"That is, if you would like to. I do not wish to cause you any pain or upset. Captain Rogers informed me that the holidays can be extremely difficult for many people, due to strong reminders of the past which cannot be relived."
"You're sweet, Vizh."
It was shortly after her unprompted compliment that he became aware that she had shortened the space between them, and that her knees were now brushing his trouser leg at the thigh area.
He decided that it would be best to focus entirely upon her face.
"I haven't celebrated Hanukkah in a long time, not like we used to when our parents were alive. Pietro –" her voice caught when she mentioned the name of her twin, grief still fresh in her soul, "Pietro and I had our own little customs, things we could do even when we were kept captive."
He was heavy with sorrow when he considered all that she had endured at the hands of others. A sharper emotion encroached, too.
Her lips curved and her cheeks rounded as her eyes focused upon his once more.
"I'd like to do it properly again. If I can remember how to, that is." She let out another melodic laugh.
"I could try my best to assist," he offered.
"Thanks, Vizh. I appreciate that." She touched a hand to his forearm, which came as a surprise to him – a most pleasant one. "I think I owe it to Pietro to do what we used to, to let him know that not everything has gone."
"I'm sure that he would be happy about that."
Her smile grew brighter, a wonderful light filling her whole face.
"And I owe it to you too, Vizh," she continued, her fingers squeezing lightly against the fabric of his sweater, "to show you what Hanukkah is all about."
They made a few preparations beforehand, though Wanda was keen to save most traditions until the holiday proper arrived. She related the story learnt from her parents about the miracle of the oil as Vision listened intently. They fashioned dreidels, and commanded the kitchen to make latkes and sufganiyot, both of which smelt delicious.
While they – or more accurately, Wanda made the food, Sergeant Wilson and Colonel Rhodes entered, no doubt lured by the aroma. Vision instinctively felt protective towards Wanda and her traditions, which she had so far not been especially vocal about. Wanda reassured him that it was okay and continued to cook enthusiastically while she gained a wider audience. The delicacies were served alongside that evening's dinner to the whole house, accompanied by explanation from a smiling Wanda, and Vision was very pleased that they were so well received, with Sergeant Wilson in particular calling for more of both.
Though she was happy to share food and games with the household, Wanda preferred to keep the nightly lighting of the menorah a private ritual in her room, shared only with Vision. He felt greatly privileged to bear witness to the tradition that was the centerpiece of the holiday. After she lit the candles she would utter a blessing in Sokovian, her native language holding a remarkable amount of beauty.
The lights burned long into the night, Vision watching their amber glow with fascination as Wanda reclined upon her bed and eventually went to sleep. Every night of the eight which comprised the holiday he offered to leave her room after the standard half-hour for the burning passed, and every night she told him that she wanted him to stay. He was unsure of whether it was the presence of the candles or himself, or perhaps both in combination, which contributed to the peaceful slumbers that she experienced.
As Christmas approached all of the Avengers took the opportunity to relax as much as they could. Captain Rogers warned that just because it was the holiday season there was no guarantee that they would not be called upon to carry out missions. So far, with five days to go until the day itself, there had been no alerts.
Vision and Wanda sat alone in the lounge area, Vision reading a book while Wanda worked with a pair of needles, knitting a hobby that she had picked up over the last couple of months. Every now and then, he liked to pause for a few minutes in his reading and watch her as she worked, fingers moving fluidly. She was absorbed in the task but on some occasions she would notice his gaze upon her, lifting her head and smiling.
"It is very pryyemnyy," she uttered, looking towards the shining tree that towered in front of the sofa. "The lights seem to jump."
"They are charming," he agreed, "but I prefer the lights of the menorah."
Wanda's cheeks appeared to flush, even in the reflection of the tree.
"It is special. I think I forgot how much. Thank you for reminding me."
"You are welcome. Thank you for sharing it all with me." He gazed down at her, considering that nothing shone quite as bright as her smile. "Can we always celebrate that way?"
She broke her smile to chew upon her bottom lip.
"I guess so," she responded quietly, but with her eyes sparkling. "I'd like that."
"I would too."
He sensed that she was feeling embarrassment, or something akin to it, so he took the opportunity to move from the sofa, remembering that there was something that he had to show her.
"Vizh?" she questioned as he returned with the box in his hand.
"Mr Stark had some ornaments commissioned. The six original Avengers each have their own which are already hanging upon the tree. Miss Romanoff thought that it would be best if we see them for ourselves, and then decide where we would like to place them."
He held the box closer to her, allowing her to pluck out the bauble that was marked with her name, the Avengers crest and an arched emblem belonging to her.
"If you feel uncomfortable in hanging it up, then I would be pleased to do it for you."
"Thanks, Vizh. Let me see yours."
She gestured to him to pick out his own, which was embellished with a small yellow crystal, standing as a replica of the Mind Stone.
"They're so cool," Wanda exclaimed, her eyes alight. "But wait, there's another one here. Has Sam or Rhodey not seen theirs yet?"
"Oh, well…" He began to stumble over words that were really quite simple. "I requested that another be made. It was rather lucky that I was not too late before Mr Stark submitted the designs."
He watched her face as she took out the remaining bauble, which was made of a lighter silver than the others. Her eyes raised to his, asking for confirmation, but he remained silent and unmoving, knowing that it was important for her to discover for herself.
One of her hands sprang to cover her mouth as she dangled the bauble upon her finger, the name of her brother visible and gleaming in the light.
"Pietro was an Avenger. Perhaps he had not been officially sworn in by Captain Rogers, but if he had - ."
As the lights upon the tree flickered, he saw the stream of a tear running down over her cheek.
"Wanda," he uttered, full of remorse for his actions, "I am deeply sorry if I have upset you. It was not my intention."
She shook her head vigorously. "No, Vision. You haven't…this is…"
Despite her assurance he felt somewhat uncertain. At least until she stood in front of him, placing her hands lightly against his torso for purchase.
"Oh," he exhaled, as she pressed a kiss against his cheek. It lasted both for an eternity and for hardly any time at all.
"I love it," she said, lowering her feet back onto the floor. "Thank you so much."
"You are very welcome, Wanda. I am glad."
She wore a smile that was simply dazzling, giggling as she reached a hand up to cup the same cheek she had kissed but a minute previously.
"I think you might be blushing, Vizh."
"Oh," he responded, feeling rather self-conscious. He had noticed feeling warm again, specifically at the millisecond that Wanda's lips met his skin. "I didn't think that was possible."
"Me neither," she replied airily, "I think it's very cute, though."
"Th-thank you."
Everything else seemed rather insignificant when he was faced with Wanda's beaming smile.
"Better be careful, though," she said, smiling, "you might start to glow brighter than the tree."
A/N: Ukrainian/Sokovian translation:
pryyemnyy = pleasant
There was a post on Tumblr with headcanon about Vision blushing, and turning yellow when he does so (the same kind of way that he 'flickers' yellow beneath his skin when he is injured in Infinity War), and I completely accept that.
Though we don't officially know Sam's rank the consensus from some Googling seems to be that he would likely be a Sergeant (although Air Force pararescues have various levels of Sergeant, and Sam would be fairly senior), so I went with that. Vision would certainly give him the honour that he warrants.