A/N: Happy Valentine's Day or something. Thank you for reading despite my absurdly slow and random update schedule. Y'all are the best. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

The third reason Wanda chose to kiss Vision is the simplest of all. And it only took nearly three hours of tossing and turning in bed to come to terms with. Frankly, she wanted to kiss him.

The problem is, knowing something and saying it aloud are two very different things. Particularly when Vision, eyes cast down, is literally on bended knee. A thinly veiled attempt to hide the chagrin inscribed in his features. The insecurity coursing off him, palpable in the small span between them.

Looking up at her, he swallows, and she can see his Adam's apple shift. It's a slight movement. It's motivation.

So, Wanda acts. Bringing her free hand to his jaw, she thumbs over his cheekbone. Encourages him to lift his head.

Gradually, she lets him feel the ataraxia he grants her. The fondness she holds for him. There are traces of apprehension, fear. But only vestiges. Far outweighed by absolute deference, appreciation, affection.

Her hand falls to the nape of his neck, pulling him in. A swell of hope courses between them, and she can't tell if it started from him or her. She decides it doesn't matter, takes it as confirmation. An invitation to close the distance and capture his lips with her own.

Kissing Wanda is effortlessly glorious. Her lips slide against his in a hypnotic dance, fastidiously reactive, artfully gentle, sweet. Combined with the knowledge of how she feels about him, about them, it's terrifically heady, achingly soft. Then, it's over, all too fast.

The Vision opens his eyes to see her withdraw, her mouth shiny and flushed pink. She draws her bottom lip in with her teeth, swipes it with her tongue. In the absence of conscious ability to choose one thought over another, he ends up coming out with, "That's, uh, a compelling argument."

"I thought so," she laughs, light and airy, before her tone turns serious. "You're just- You're always open with your emotions, and it's not that easy for me. But, I wanted you to know how I feel. You deserve to know. And, er, that's where I stand."

A quick check tells him his auditory receptors are fully functional, performing optimally. That this isn't a moment's dream or some cruel, awfully timed malfunction. That it's really happening.

"Thank you." The moment feels charged like it ought to be heavy. The thing is, he can't stop himself from smiling. "It occurs to me, though, that you're sitting."

"You're ridiculous."

"We have two available, sir. Same model and year, in yellow and red."

"The red, please."

"Very well, sir. One moment." The clerk disappears behind the counter, into the back of the rental dealership. While he waits, Vision glances out the window, scanning the lot for the car. He spots it quickly, not far from where Wanda stands against the building, one foot propped up behind her.

In total, it took him about an hour to pick a location and work out the logistics. Driving is a calculated risk, one that increases their visibility at border crossings compared to travelling by train. It's worth it, though, if it means less palavering with the public. One close call seems more than sufficient enough, no matter how much he enjoyed her methods for escaping suspicion.

"Here you are." The attendant returns, extending a manila folder for the Vision to take. "Feel free to drop it off at any of our locations. All the paperwork is in there as well. Please enjoy."

"Thank you."

A bell on the door chimes as he exits, already tipping the keys out of the envelope. The sound makes Wanda look up, and he brandishes them in his palm for her to see. Pushing off the wall, she falls into step beside him, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you drive before."

"Stark taught me."

"On second thought, maybe I should take the first leg."

"I'm a very safe driver, I assure you." He flashes a smile at her, opening the passenger door. Teasing back, "You'll be pleased to know that I've had a license for nearly eight months."

She whistles a low note, "Just think, soon you'll be old enough to smoke and drink."

That one tickles him, an image of himself with a tumbler of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other coming to mind, dressed in a fancy suit, like the men in the old shows they watch. Laughing, he shuts her door and takes his seat behind the wheel. "Buckled in?"

"Mm." Wanda fiddles with the radio, scanning through the stations as he pulls onto the road. "Do you ever wish you could drink? Not just alcohol, but in general. Or eat?"

"Only once." He leaves the second part, that it was after that day in Leipzig, out. "In retrospect, I'm glad that wish wasn't granted."

"Why is that?"

"I'm not sure that I'd enjoy the taste of the stuff."

"I didn't know you could taste anything."

Now that she mentions it, he couldn't taste anything. Yet, this morning when she'd kissed him, he distinctly remembers that her lips were sweet. Even now, he's aware of the taste of the air, of his own mouth. "In Wakanda, Captain Rogers said that I was 'evolving.' I believed it to be hyperbole at the time. I'm beginning to think he was spot on."

"We're all growing and evolving. It's kind of an unavoidable side effect of being a person. Maybe, subconsciously, you wanted to be able to taste. So, you can." She lays her hand over his where it lies on the gear stick, relaxes back into the seat. "Either that, or, 'you have witchcraft in your lips.'"

"Shakespeare?" Vision adjusts his hand under hers, and she weaves her fingers between his. "A woman after my own heart."

They make it to midnight before they have to stop for petrol, the tank nearing empty. While Wanda stretches, Vision fills the tank. The breeze is dry and cool when it blows, making her feel awake, more alert.

"What do you think, Vizh?"

"About?"

"Snack time."

"Of course, here." He pulls a card from the money clip in his pocket, passes it to her over the car's roof.

The store at the station is small with only a few aisles. Stocked for convenience rather than variety. Before heading back to the lot, she picks out a couple of drinks, some candy, and a premade sandwich. "Want to take a break? I think I saw some tables when we were coming in."

"Sure. I'll bring the car over."

It's a short walk from the pumps to the picnic area. She's opening a water bottle when he parks. Eyeing him up a little, because she can do so openly now, as he sits on the bench opposite her.

"Thanks for buying me dinner, again."

"You're welcome." Tugging the plastic bag across the table, he pokes around at its contents. "I'd hardly say that's dinner. You only got chocolate bars and peanut butter and jelly."

"There should be another drink in there, too."

"Ah, I apologize. How could I miss it? A can of Milo."

"Yes, well, we all make mistakes. You're forgiven." Wanda takes a sip, tipping her bottle at him. "This time."

"Thank heavens."

Conversation lulls while she eats. Each of them taking in the surroundings, enjoying the stars. A welcome respite from the road.

He knows everything, and it's easier than she thought it would be. It doesn't feel like their relationship has transformed or been drastically altered. She isn't miraculously unbroken. And, it's alright. They're okay.