#the way that Clint joins the team and is immediately supposed to read their manual to study the team’s by-laws is so funny to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lazy-stitch · 6 years

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Ya girl needs very little encouragement to post things lmao, so here y’all go. (also, I’m really sorry if there’s weird symbols where the apostrophes etc are? I can’t see it on mobile, but on desktop it’s all over my posts... They only show up when I put a read more cut, but since this is so long I’m not gonna exclude one. I’d get rid of the symbols manually if I could, but they don’t appear when I’m editing the post. They disappear once you click keep reading tho.)

Title: sock slides.docx? Lmao it doesn’t have one yet bc titles are generally the last thing I do Rating: g+ - it is dumb domestic stuff with mutual pining, some cursing Ship: Scarlet Vision Word count rn: 6669 Warning: This is still a wip (and if I knew what to do with it, it’s like... only 2/3rds the way done?) and I make zero (0) guarantees I’ll ever finish it since it has been troubling me for so long. If I do, I’ll post the link to my ao3 I guess (tbh tho my user there is the same so I’m not that hard to find).

"You think they know there are live cameras all around the compound, even in our living quarters?"

Five pairs of dubious eyes turned from the computer screen to Steve. He shrugged, a sort of smile on his face. He’d only recently figured out Tony had installed cameras into the living areas of the Avengers Compound, so it didn’t hurt to ask – especially since he felt watching this feed was an invasion of privacy (it was a cute video, granted, but it just felt wrong to watch it if they didn’t know there were working cameras all over the place).

“Maybe they think they’re dummy cams?” Sam offered. He, too, had been a bit late on noticing the camera system, and it was only when Steve had asked about them that he’d been told they were recording everything. Considering how big the Avengers Compound was, which was comparable to a large museum, he didn’t feel ashamed that he’d assumed the cameras in the living quarters were fakes. At Sam’s side, Tony snorted and rolled his eyes.

“They probably didn’t think we’d check,” Tony said, because he knew for a fact at least one of the two in question knew about the extensive camera system at the Compound. He’d helped Tony install the cameras, which is why Vision knew the living area feed would only be checked if a problem occurred. There hadn’t been any red flags sent up while the rest of the Avengers had been on a mission, leaving Vision and Wanda to housesit, no. It was the fact they’d had the Compound to themselves. Natasha claimed Vision acted differently around Wanda if he thought no one would notice (and vice versa), and Steve voiced similar opinions that Wanda and Vision seemed to favor each other after watching simulation trainings. That had garnered the interest of the rest of the Avengers, new and old, and there wasn’t a better opportunity to observe them than on the camera feeds while all of the other Avengers were on a mission. They all acknowledged it was a bit underhanded, but, as leaders of the New Avengers team, Natasha and Steve did need to know how their team acted around each other. They’d need to know if Vision and Wanda were closer than originally presumed to plan for possible bad reactions if one got hurt.

Or so Natasha said before they’d silently returned to the Compound and entered the tiny security room to watch the video feeds.

The two drifters who rarely visited the Compound and had little to do with the New Avengers, Clint and Tony, had their own justifications to wanting to see the feed. Clint wanted to check in on Wanda after hearing whom her supposed favorite person was. Since Pietro’s death, he’d become a father figure to her, so Clint felt responsible for looking out for Wanda, especially if she ever decided to look for a romantic partner. He didn’t think Vision was a bad guy (far from it, in fact), but there was the question of if Vision had emotions. Clint didn’t want Wanda to get hurt. It was a bit hard adjusting his behavior and advice to a young adult from his children who hadn’t even entered their teens, but it was definitely worth it even if he accidentally overstepped his bounds every now and then. Tony just wanted to see how things were progressing with his self-proclaimed “robot son.” He felt at odds with three of the four newest Avengers. Sam was easy enough to get along with, but it wasn’t like Tony really knew the guy. And Wanda and Vision were on a whole different level of… everything. He wasn’t sure where to start with either of them even though he knew Vision should be easier to talk to than Wanda. There was just something that made talking to the guy really, really difficult for Tony.

“Boys, you're all wrong. They're kids being kids, and kids do weird shit when they're bored - and they don't care who sees. This doesn’t even classify as 'weird shit' because I'd call you a damn liar if you said you hadn't done this before - except for our resident fossil," Natasha laughed, swiveling around in the computer chair to face them. She’d claimed the single chair in the room immediately upon entering it, leaving the men to awkwardly scrunch together behind her. Rhodes and Clint were at her sides while Sam, Tony, and Steve were pressed together behind them.

"Okay, no, it definitely counts as 'weird shit' because pretty much anything involving Vision classifies as 'weird shit,'" Tony argued, pointing at the screen as Vision quickly appeared on it, barely noticeable red wisps around his ankles and wearing clothes none of them ever thought he’d wear.

"You don't know the guy 'cause you're rarely here, Tony. Vision is the embodiment of ‘weird,’ so this is normal by Vision standards. Weird was when Nat was teaching them how to swim," Sam countered.

“And when Tony drunkenly tried to teach Vision to twerk at that Stark charity ball thing,” Clint sniggered. Everyone but Tony had a chuckle remembering how Tony had nearly succeeded explaining why people twerked before Wanda dragged Vision away from him.

“Hold on, that wasn’t weird - that was father-son bonding time!”

“Anyone else smell that? It’s the patent Stark bullshit.”

"I just want to know how she convinced him to join her," Rhodes said, a bit loudly for his norm, wanting to stop the oncoming squabble between Clint and Tony.

"First of all, Vision rarely says no to things. Second of all - and this really negates the need for my first point - it's Wanda," Natasha shrugged, swiveling around to look at the screen again. On one hand, there was no chance she could blackmail Vision with this because he seemed to have no shame, but Wanda, on the other hand...

"... True," Rhodes agreed, holding his hands up in the air in defeat. Clint wished someone had a follow up comment to disagree, but silence enveloped the room as they watched the camera feed for the third or fourth time through.

"Hey, Steve… are those your socks?" Sam squinted at the screen, pointing at Vision's feet. Natasha paused the video since it was one of the few times the living room furniture didn't block out Vision and Wanda's lower halves, and Rhodes moved aside so Steve could get closer to the computer and get a better look.

"Yes, yes they are."

"Vis, come on. It's not like we're breaking in. The only time Steve locks his door is when he’s sleeping, and he only does that because Stark drew on his face while drunk one time," Wanda said, tugging at Vision's hand. He’d followed her willingly enough from the living room to Steve’s closed, but admittedly unlocked door, yet his stomach had twisted with each step they took. Vision felt curiously jumpy and had to stamp down the need to look over his shoulder as if the rest of the Avengers would burst into the living quarters of the Compound at any moment. He knew they were not due back until at least the following morning, and yet his shoulders were taut under his shirt and his mouth was dry.

"You told me that closed doors meant the room's owner did not want others coming in on their own free will." It wasn't a lie - Wanda had told him that. Vision just didn’t want to tell Wanda the real reason why he didn’t want to enter Steve’s room, though he wouldn’t be surprised if she could read his mood. He was feeling rather… silly, really, about the whole situation. Over the ten months since his birth, Vision had learned and done many things, but there was one thing that always seemed to elude him: denying Wanda when she requested something from him. All she had to do was turn her green eyes to him and give the slightest hint of a smile, and his systems always seemed to fail. He figured it was a fault in his programming (which was done by Tony, who could never say no to a pretty face, something Wanda definitely had). Not that she’d ever made him do something he truly didn’t want to do, just… things he normally would never even think of doing. Humans were very, very odd sometimes, but he did enjoy humoring them (especially Wanda, who came up with the strangest things).

Vision avoided looking at Wanda’s face after his comment and instead concentrated on their linked hands, knowing she was about to start pouting at him. He had, after all, caved in to her request and was already wearing what she deemed “appropriate” clothing for the occasion. Her pout would also likely mean his immediate downfall, as Vision knew he agreed to whatever she said after she pouted 96.742% of the time. There was just something about the way Wanda’s lower lip jutted and her eyebrows worried her brow that made him forget his misgivings and do what she wanted him to do. It was even more effective than her various smiles.

Vision’s eyes automatically followed his hand when Wanda brought it up to her face by her chin, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards as he accepted defeat. She’d brought his attention right to where he’d been attempting to avoid. Sometimes, he wondered if she actually knew his weak points or if she was just insanely lucky.

"Yes, but we're doing this in the name of science, Vis. Science. You love science. And, also, it's Steve. If he even found out, he wouldn't mind one bit. It's not like we're stealing any of his possessions. We're just borrowing a pair of his socks, which we're even going to wash for him when we're done,” Wanda paused slightly, and she continued before Vision even had the chance to open his mouth, “You won't get them dirty, but the floor might. And it’s common courtesy." Vision expelled his breath through his nose, halfway between amused and amazed. She’d done it again. It was hard not to question if Wanda ever read his mind even though he knew she never did without his explicit permission. She always seemed to know what he'd say before he said it. Vision had gone to Sam to question him about Wanda’s knack for knowing what to say and do, and Sam had laughed it off, saying that’s just how best friends were. There wasn't any real proof behind it, it was just something that... was. A soft, full-blown smile wormed its way onto his face, a warm buzz filling his chest that soon traveled across his whole body. He repositioned his hand that was caught between both of hers so he could squeeze one, completely ignoring the hum in his lips that could only be silenced by meeting Wanda’s cheek.

Vision really needed to look into his coding to figure out how to say no to all the absolutely ridiculous things Wanda got him to do and how to shut down the odd impulses he had around her.

"In the name of science, then," he said, artificial heart skipping a beat when a radiant, toothy grin spread across her face. Which definitely did not have anything to do with why he agreed to her schemes, no, not at all.

That was absurd as well as impossible for someone like him.

With a tap to the monitor screen outside of Steve’s door, Wanda got them access to his room. Vision bit the inside of his cheek when she didn’t release his hand and instead intertwined their fingers. It was a little awkward, since her hand was smaller than his and their vastly different heights made the position of their arms uncomfortable, but Wanda seemed as keen as Vision was to let go – which meant she was going to hold on until she absolutely needed to release his hand. Vision let her lead him into Steve’s room, but he didn’t peer around it in respect of Steve’s privacy since he’d never been in Steve’s room before. Wanda, however, apparently had been because she led him confidently to a chest of drawers on the far wall and dropped to her knees to open the bottom drawer. Vision had to lean over awkwardly to not let go of her hand, but it did provide him with a better view of what she was doing as Wanda immediately reached to the very back of the drawer. Though it was filled with white and gray undershirts, she pulled out the socks she wanted with a flourish and a wicked smirk over her shoulder. Steve had described the socks as “garishly wonderful.” Vision preferred referring to them as an assault on his eyes. The crew socks had been part of a five-pack of male Avengers themed soft, fuzzy socks, and Sam had gifted them to Steve on Steve’s birthday as a joke. The socks currently in Wanda’s hand were the Captain America themed ones. They were obnoxiously red, white, and blue to replicate Steve’s original costume from the 1940s, complete with little white, protruding wings at the top that were reminiscent of the ones on his helmet.

Vision’s eye unconsciously twitched. Wanda’s smirk grew wider.

"Are you certain I actually need to wear the socks? I can just copy them myself." It was futile. Vision knew it, yet he felt the need to ask anyway. The strange prickliness of his skin was back, tightening his muscles, as he stared at the socks instead of Wanda’s devious face. He, along with everyone else, knew Steve sometimes wore the socks “because they’re comfortable.” Vision felt that wasn’t an adequate reason for wearing the horrid socks, but he was never going to tell anyone, especially Steve, that. He’d learned that humans sacrificed comfort for beauty in social settings, and they sacrificed style for comfort when they were alone. Vision was glad he never had to do either, as he could make his clothes as comfortable as he liked while they still looked fancy.

"Yup. Science, Vis. What if your molecules behave differently than the actual socks and create a different amount of friction? You’ve never tried replicating something like these before. And besides, we already did the worst part of this - entering Steve's room without his explicit permission." If it was possible, Wanda’s smirk became even more wicked, and Vision knew that expression. He wondered what about it that made his systems come to a grinding halt (he kept files on all the smiles she gave him and what they meant, and this particular smile, in the top three of the “smiles that’d make him do pretty much anything for Wanda” category, meant trouble), though an easy answer was that he had a soft spot for Wanda when she did almost anything. It didn’t matter that what she said wasn’t exactly right or that she was asking him to put on those absurd socks – all that mattered was she smiled and he couldn’t dream of saying no to that smile, and because he wouldn’t exactly have to look at the socks if he was wearing them.

Perhaps now he’d learn why Steve wore the horrid things.

“I doubt that, if I could not copy them correctly, it would significantly change the amount of friction between myself and the floor,” Vision said, though he did not refuse the socks when Wanda exasperatedly shoved them his way. Completely and utterly defeated, he carefully sat on the ground next to Wanda, crediting all of the reluctance he felt to having to put on the socks rather than having to finally let go of her hand. He couldn’t help the frown on his face as he unrolled them and pulled them on his feet, barely resisting the need to voice his displeasure with them again. There was one redeeming factor about the socks, though – they weren’t too terribly small for him. Wanda had chosen Steve’s socks to borrow since Steve was the tallest Avenger, besides Vision, and was the most likely to have a similar foot length to him. Or so she’d claimed. Vision knew most of her reasoning had to come from the bright blue socks currently sitting innocently on his feet. A curious sort of heat was pooling in his neck and face as he stared at them, pout deepening at how they clashed with his deep red skin.

Vision’s attention snapped up from his feet when he heard muffled snickers. Wanda turned her face away from him, but her giggling, hidden being the sleeve of her sweater, didn’t stop. Vision’s head tilted to the side ever so slightly, assessing the sweater. It was navy blue and had previously been his. Pepper had ordered him about a week’s worth of clothes before she’d known he wouldn’t need any, but he did end up being grateful for them since having the physical copies allowed him to duplicate their texture. Recently, after Wanda had realized he wasn’t wearing them, she’d asked if she could have the sweaters. There was no logical reason to deny her, but Vision also couldn’t deduce why she’d want them. Wanda’s smaller frame was completely drowned in the sweaters, and the sleeves ran far past her fingertips. He’d searched the Internet for answers, but it just led him down paths he knew had to be false (he was not her boyfriend and she couldn’t possibly want him as her boyfriend - and he’d never worn them so, if he did have a particular scent, it wouldn’t be on the sweaters). Because of the romantic connotations, Vision hadn’t dared ask the other Avengers for a possible explanation, because he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea or to embarrass Wanda if they questioned her about it. He knew he could just ask her, but… seeing her in them and knowing he was the only one she let see her in them…

Vision clenched his hands into fists on the ground. The heat in his neck was building. He needed a distraction to stop overheating. His gaze returned to the vile socks that felt very strange on his feet. Vision had worn physical clothing before, but he’d never worn socks, let alone the fuzzy kind. The fabric was indeed quite soft, but he was still unconvinced the softness was worth the ugliness. Experimentally, he wiggled his toes, still trying to pin down why Steve willingly admitted to liking them.

By his side, Wanda almost choked on her sleeve. She’d started peering over at Vision as soon as she felt his heavy gaze, and seeing him wiggle his toes was surprising to her. He’d been taking things in stride, as usual, but the socks had been the one thing he’d nearly put his foot down on. Wanda knew he thought they were atrocious. His disgust at them rolled off of him in waves whenever he set eyes upon them. She bit her lower lip, a familiar, pleasant ache building in her chest because she knew he was only wearing them for her. She couldn’t believe he’d agreed to her plan – all parts of her plan. Wanda supposed it was only because they were alone, but she wasn’t complaining. She knew a Vision the others only got glimpses of. If the others could see him like he normally was with her, they’d understand him better, but she was selfishly glad he was taking much longer to warm up to the others. It was nice having him to herself.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda calmed herself, willing to risk looking back at Vision to continue their plans. She knew she wouldn’t be able to contain her laughter again if he was still wiggling his toes, but Vision was, thankfully, just pouting adorably at the socks. She concentrated on his eyes, trying to catch the way his irises rotated and how quickly they were going. Wanda didn’t want to make him do anything he didn’t want to do, and he wasn’t likely to tell her he was truly upset without some prodding. So she’d learned how to ascertain the minute differences in the way he expressed himself (and having an excuse to stare intently at his face was always a plus, she wasn’t scared to admit that to herself). The corners of his mouth twitched when he was overflowing with some emotion he was trying to hide, and his irises went counterclockwise when he was upset. Since neither was happening, Wanda rotated her body to face him fully again, flicking one of his bare knees.

“Stop moping. I’ll join you in the bad fashion, okay?” Though she made sure her voice was whiny, Wanda wasn’t really upset. She didn’t see why Vision disliked the socks because she thought they were fun – stupid, yes, but fun. When Vision looked up, a gentle smile replacing his pout, Wanda had to look away before her face could start heating up. There was something about the way his face softened from the hard lines surrounded it and the way the skin around his eyes crinkled that made her heart skip a beat. In order to distract herself, Wanda forcibly made herself concentrate on the socks, sticking her hand back into the open drawer to find them. There were only three remaining pairs since Natasha had started a prank war with Clint with the Hawkeye socks. So far, Clint hadn’t been able to find where Natasha had stashed them away, and he was determined to find them before they fell out during a mission, which had happened when Natasha started the war without telling Clint. Sam and Natasha had made fun of him, relentlessly, for days until Natasha found the socks in her own gear bag during a mission.

Feeling the little additions to the socks, Wanda easily found the Thor ones. The Hawkeye pair would’ve been her first pick, but as they were unavailable, she’d settle for Thor because there was no way in hell she was going to wear the Iron Man socks (and the Hulk ones just felt… wrong, all things considered). The Thor socks came with little buttons down the front, reflecting Thor’s odd armor, and had not only little white wings on the top but a mini flowing cape as well. Wanda thought they were cute, but the cape did make her wonder which pair of socks Vision would like better since he liked capes.

“Cape or wings, Vis? You pick since I’m making you do this,” Wanda asked as she closed the drawer and held the socks up between them. If Vision chose the Thor socks, she’d be a bit disappointed since the Captain America ones clashed so horribly with his skin, but she also wasn’t going to refuse him if he wanted to swap. Wanda narrowed her eyes when one side of Vision’s mouth curled upwards, irises rotating quickly. She knew that face, even though it was the second rarest expression he wore since he seldom let himself be a little shit. It made her feel better, though, because now Wanda knew, for sure, that Vision would enjoy himself, even just a tiny bit. It was also nice to see since he always denied his humanity, but it was an expression he’d come up with on his own without mimicking any other Avenger. One day, Wanda hoped he’d finally see and agree he was human enough. Until then, though, she was satisfied knowing he was comfortable around her and allowed her to see him develop. It was always the little things like these that made heat bloom in her chest that kept her warm for days.

“I prefer golden capes to red ones. I am perfectly fine with these socks.”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, Wanda removed one of the socks she’d already been wearing, chucking it at Vision’s face. He caught it deftly, laughter bubbling up through his body. Wanda puffed up her cheeks petulantly, wishing Vision had slightly worse reflexes. It would’ve been nice to see him get nailed in the nose and try to shake it off, but she had gotten him to actually laugh (another testament to the feelings he denied but Wanda had buckets of proof for).

“I think you just don’t want to wear the little buttons on the front. He has silly armor,” Wanda huffed, shaking one of the Thor socks in Vision’s face. He batted it away, chuckling; Wanda bit her lip as she smiled back, acutely aware of how her face was heating up. Perhaps if they were normal young adults living normal lives, probably in a college dorm goofing off because they had no immediate deadlines, she’d kiss him. Maybe it’d be a peck, just to relieve her burning affection for him threatening to boil over, or maybe it’d turn into something a little more.

But they weren’t normal young adults. They weren’t college students messing around before they did something stupid. They were Avengers, and, on top of that, they’d never be normal, either. Vision was a synthetic human, and Wanda was an enhanced person. It was dumb to even think about “what ifs” because they were literally impossible.

Shaking her head to physically rid herself of asinine daydreams, Wanda quickly pulled off her remaining sock and tossed it at Vision with less animation than before. He caught it as she pulled on the Thor socks that were far too large for her feet. The heels poked out awkwardly behind her Achilles tendons, and they traveled farther up her calf than crew socks were supposed to go. Wanda pretended to try and rearrange the socks for a better fit, face burning but shoulders heavy, while she really just took surreptitious glances at Vision as he rolled her socks into a pair with too much precision. Perhaps it was the clothes she’d gotten him to wear that had spurned her stupid what-ifs that pulled at her darker thoughts (because if she was normal, then Pietro would be alive, as would her parents… but then again, she would’ve never met Vision, and though Pietro’s death still stabbed at her like a red hot knife – or, more accurately, searing bullet holes mincing her torso and arms – she felt more alive with the Avengers than she had since before those missiles fell on her home in Sokovia when they were ten). Wanda wanted to reach over and tug at the slightly unkempt sleeve of his white t-shirt. It was odd enough seeing him in a t-shirt and the same loose, athletic shorts she was wearing, but some normalcy could be returned if he kept his clothes unwrinkled. It wasn’t a bad look for Vision, just a complete 180 from his normal outfit of pressed sweaters and slacks. Wanda could see more of his skin than she’d seen since he’d burst out of the cradle, and she found herself holding back the urge to run her fingers along the vibranium that ran smoothly with his musculature.

“You do not need to hesitate, Wanda. You are not forcing me to do anything I do not wish to do.”

Vision’s voice tore Wanda’s attention away from his forearms. She looked sharply at his face, wanting to laugh. He was sometimes insanely good at reading her mood, but most of the time, he blundered around awkwardly while trying to reassure her. It was another one of his many endearing traits.

“Whatever you say, you big dummy,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes in good humor. She stood up, nonchalantly adding, “I still can’t believe you tried getting out of the socks but didn’t care about the other clothes.” She knew his aversion to showing off his body, one of the few negative things he’d developed on his own. His insecurity stemmed from his differentness, the vibranium and red skin with a texture only he could tell differed from normal humans’ (though that probably made it worse than if everyone else could also tell), and he’d adopted a style to cover up as much skin as he possibly could. Wanda knew he sometimes even avoided reflective surfaces on his bad days (which he, of course, denied to having, but Wanda made sure to play as many games of chess, Shogi, and other strategy games he liked best on those days). When Vision didn’t stand, Wanda nudged his knee with her shin, noticing how he’d placed her rolled up socks on the floor beside his thigh. Instead of responding, he looked down at his attire, using one hand to tug at the end of his t-shirt and the other to gently skim to lower edges of his black and white shorts. She couldn’t see anything but the top of his shiny bald head, but Wanda could feel that his pout had returned based off of the turbulent emotions twisting off of him. His mind started leaping chaotically from one thought to another as he went through logical simulations, but she didn’t try to enter it, instead waiting for him to come to his own conclusions to tell her. It was uncommon for Vision to be unable to come out of his thought spirals on his own, and she hoped she hadn’t unintentionally caused it to happen.

Finally, after two minutes passed that felt like hours, Vision looked up at her, brows scrunched together over his eyes like how his lips puckered. His irises were rotating in intervals, switching between quick and slow speeds, and Wanda felt a chill spreading down her back. She knew she had to diffuse the mood he was about to start drowning in.

“I do not understand. I thought you said this type of attire was required for this ritual?” Wanda looked at a spot right over his left shoulder to avoid his unintentional sad puppy eyes. How could she stop him from dropping into his funk? Mentally, she berated herself, because she had brought it up without even thinking.

“It is, I promise. You just don’t normally… It was dumb to say. I’m sorry, Vis.” Wanda hoped her backtracking would work, but she knew it was a long shot. Vision was almost as stubborn as her sometimes because he didn’t like letting go of some topics once they were introduced.

“I do not…” Vision paused, expelling a soft sigh through his nostrils. Wanda glanced at his face and winced upon seeing the corners of his mouth twitch. She immediately crouched down in front of him, shoulders sagging under an invisible weight.

“I am different.” He gestured helplessly at his body in general, not meeting Wanda’s gaze.

“You have not treated me differently, for which I am grateful, but—“

“Vis. Look at me,” Wanda interrupted him, not wanting him to complete his sentence. She frowned when Vision only glanced at her for a few seconds before looking away again.

“I apologize, Wanda, we should—“

“Vision, stop,” Wanda interrupted him again, reaching out as she spoke to grab his face in both of her hands to force him to look at her. His irises stopped turning counterclockwise for a second when he met her gaze. Vision gripped her wrists, probably to remove her hands form his face, but Wanda locked her joints to keep her arms in place.

“You’re not ‘different.’ You’re just like the rest of us. Skin color, hair color, prosthetic limbs, artificial organs – none of it matters. Bodies do not matter, Vision. They should not. How people live – theirs souls, that’s what matters. And you have a wonderful soul, Vis – the most wonderful one I’ve ever seen. You are worthy, okay? Even Mjuh… Mo… Thor’s hammer—”

“—Mjölnir—”

“—Yes, that, agrees. Natasha told me that none of them could lift it the night Ultron was born.” Vision blinked slowly at Wanda, and she was honestly stumped on if he took her words to heart or not. His face was blank, but his irises were rotating clockwise again, which was something. When he tilted his head to lean his face more firmly into her left palm, Wanda knew the storm had subsided. She brushed her thumbs over his high cheekbones, wiping away his invisible tears, before teasingly pinching his cheek. Vision winced, flinching out of her grasp even though she hadn’t physically hurt him.

“People are dumb. Ignore them and then tell me so I can kick their asses. You look good. You arms and legs look fine, Vis. And if you want a hug, you’ll get one,” Wanda said as she stood up, shaking out her legs. She didn’t take her gaze off of Vision’s face, though. It was still blank, but there was something about his eyes that she couldn’t place. It was happening a lot more frequently as of late, and she was determined to figure out what it meant. His spinning irises slowed to a barely discernable crawl, and his pupils constricted. The look always made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, but not in a threatened sort of way. If he didn’t have a perfect memory, Wanda would hazard a guess that he was memorizing the moment (or, as her traitorous heart thumped, memorizing her). Instead of trying to reflect on his newly developing behavior, Wanda just held her arms out, raising an eyebrow at him. Vision blinked once, and his eyes were back to normal. A gentle smile graced his lips as he stood up, leaning into her open arms. His arms were feather-light around her, but Wanda made sure to squeeze his torso with all the strength she possessed. He generally avoided her touch if he was feeling down, so it was nice he wanted a hug. It made Wanda hope that he felt as rejuvenated as she did after hugging him. Even though he never fully squeezed back, it felt nice pressing her cheek to his chest, hearing his heart beat, and being encircled by his warmth.

A relaxed silence fell around them until Vision tapped Wanda’s shoulder, his silent signal to tell her he’d had enough. Still feeling a bit guilty, she gave him an extra squeeze before letting him go, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“You are very good at… this,” Vision mused softly, gently gesturing his hand between them. Wanda caught it, intertwining their fingers again; she almost missed when his lips twitched upwards at the corners. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from beaming as her heart thrummed desperately in her chest.

“Not really – just with people I know. Clint is actually much better than I am even though he can’t read minds,” she said nonchalantly, leading Vision out of Steve’s room.

“Perhaps it is because he is just more experienced? He is older than you, and he has children,” Vision offered, squeezing her hand. Wanda shrugged, not too concerned with it. She wasn’t exactly a people person, unlike Pietro. She’d definitely help people in need, but she’d never been good at conversing and making friends with them. Pietro had been the charmer between them, always able to talk to someone even if he didn’t necessarily like them. Wanda absentmindedly entered the lock code to the panel to her room, which was right across the hall from Steve’s, trying to imagine how Pietro would have adjusted to life with the Avengers. He would’ve had an easier time talking and maintaining conversations, but he was still as guarded as Wanda was with his affection. Wanda doubted he would’ve been on any better terms with any of the others than she currently was; though, she also doubted he’d be on the same level as she was with Vision.

“Are doors an inconvenience to you?” Wanda asked without turning to face Vision when her door eased open. She needed a distraction from thinking about Pietro, and Vision’s aversion to using doors was an easy topic to latch on to as she pulled him through the doorway to her room.

“Since I can phase through walls, yes, though I am trying to use them more as per your teaching,” he replied, and Wanda felt the slight pull of his arm on hers when he shrugged. She rolled her eyes, tugging his arm teasingly.

“You say that as if it is a bad thing when it is just how most people need to move around buildings, Vis. I think I’d be just as inconvenienced as you are, though, if I could walk through walls,” Wanda mused, glancing over her shoulder at him. She hoped she’d phrased her thoughts properly to not accidentally push his buttons again. Twice in less than ten minutes would be a first (excluding a time Tony was over since Tony liked using nicknames that he knew grated on people’s nerves when he was in a bad mood). Vision just wrinkled his nose at her, making Wanda laugh. She had to let go of his hand when she walked over to her desk, rummaging around in her chaotic drawer to find two rolls of electrical tape. Vision was still behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his body but far enough away that she couldn’t accidentally jab him in the ribs with her elbow (which would end up hurting her instead of him, ironically).

“The goal with the tape is to mark our progress, since we’re doing science. We’re going to run down the hallway outside to build up speed to slide on the kitchen floor. Mark where you stop with the tape. You get blue to match your socks, Vis,” Wanda explained, snickering. She heard, and felt, him breathe through his nose in an almost-snort (since he was too polite to actually snort), making her snicker more until she finally found the rolls of tape. She’d borrowed them from one of Tony’s labs earlier in the week, and she had never gotten the motivation to return them.

“And what is the purpose of this clothing? If it was to reduce air resistance, which there will not be enough to make a discernable difference for sliding on the floor with socks, you would not be wearing that sweater.” He used his free hand to ghost his fingers along her shoulder, following the seam that held the arm to the body of the sweater, and Wanda wanted to lean into his hand. Vision rarely initiated physical contact with her (or anyone, really), so it was tempting for her to prolong his light touch. Instead of focusing on him, though, she pulled up the happy memory that had been the catalyst for her asking him if he wanted to slide in the kitchen in fluffy socks.

“It’s just…,” her voice trailed off, fingers tightening around his momentarily as she tried to remember the correct word in English, “It is something my father started. We always did it in our sleeping clothes, and we always had a competition of who could slide the farthest every other week.” Heat blossomed in her chest, overwhelming her to well up in her eyes, as she thought about her family. There was no pain accompanying the mental image of her father, clad in an undershirt and boxers, showing her and Pietro how to slide around on the floor; there was only a soothing warmth that had a bittersweet twinge. Pietro had always been faster than her, even when they were five and the sock slide tournaments started, beginning his reign of fearless leader of the two of them. He’d always assured her no harm would come to her, that he wouldn’t let it, and Wanda had always tried to remind him to think of himself sometimes. All the signs of his arrogant but caring personality had been there from the very beginning as he’d bragged about being stronger but purposefully let Wanda win most of the sock slide competitions (the times he didn’t were the few times he was upset with her for some reason or another).

#scarlet vision #scarlet x vision #Scarlet Witch #wanda maximoff #marvel vision #the vision #wanda x vision #mcu #avengers #stitch's fanfic

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nerd-of-sorts · 6 years

Text

Reminisce

Summary: What would happen if Peter survived the snap instead of Aunt May?

Warnings: A little fluff, a lot of sadness

A/N: I’ve seen rumours that Tony’s BARF tech may be making an appearance in A4... the thought of Peter using the tech prompted this one shot :)

Word count: 3033

Pete couldn’t help but feel immensely intimidated – here he was, sitting at the round table surrounded by the heroes who had stopped the very first attack on New York.

Natasha Romanoff.

Bruce Banner.

Thor.

Steve Rogers.

Clint Barton…

Tony Stark.

And then there was Peter Parker. The guy from Queens who was undeniably and incredibly in over his head.

The nerd who was most comfortable behind a literal mask, now open faced and with the living legends he’d grown up watching on TV. He was honoured to be there, but these guys were on a another level.

But people needed him, and not just those in New York. The whole universe needed the Avengers, relying on them to reverse what Thanos had done while it clutched at its losses. Peter could only hope he was the guy for the task – he had to be.

“Carol said that the Seer told that one of us had seen the clue to taking Thanos down, even if we didn’t know it at the time. These watches are team versions of BARF – a little more robust and secure that the original. Completely made of vibranium, courtesy of Shuri.” Tony explained as he handed out the devices. Peter thanked him quietly as he accepted his own, gently turning it over to examine it. It was smooth, circular and very expensive looking.

Two black bands crossed over underneath, and Pete slipped them over his hand, intending to wear it like a watch. Before he could move it to his wrist, the bands fastened around his hand on their own accord, fastening the tech on the back of his hand.

Cool, he thought to himself, twisting his hand around to check out his new accessory.

A definite upgrade from the Rolex I never had.

When he turned his hand over to look at the face again, he was taken aback to see something loading on the screen. He whipped his head up to look at Tony in panic.

“That’s good Pete,” Tony reassured. “Everyone else, put yours on too. They will need a few moments to calibrate.” He instructed. The other five followed suit, Thor letting out a small chuckle as he held his hand up to admire it. “Not bad, Stark.” He remarked.

“Thank you, Thor.”

A silence fell over the group. It wasn’t awkward or tense, but nor was it comfortable. It reflected the weight that was on each and every person’s shoulders, and the insurmountable loss that was slowly consuming them. Peter sure as hell didn’t want to think about what he had lost because of the snap. Because he had been so close to taking the gauntlet, but not close enough. He was not the only one in the room who had missed their chance, so it wasn’t like he was alone.

In fact, he was probably surrounded by some of the loneliest people in the world. There was no one left out there for them besides the people in this room.

Peter opened his mouth before he could stop himself to fill in the quiet. “Did the Seer say anything about what memories we should be checking? I’ve got the least out of all of everyone here, but 18 years is still a lot.”

“We believe that she implied it happened during a moment of conflict or sleuthing,” Banner chimed in, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on the table. Natasha let out a groan.

“Are you kidding me? That’s my entire life summarised in two words. How am I supposed to look through over thirty years of memory?” she asked.

Thor scoffed in response. “Try having over 1500 years to sort through. I ought to speak to this Seer myself,” he grumbled.

“Fair point,” Nat conceded.

“No Thor, we need you here. It’s important that we stick together,” Steve insisted.

The bickering started to pick up, and Peter shrunk back into his seat, feeling guilting for sparking it. He hadn’t known three years ago when he wanted to join the team just how much arguing there was, which thinking back was pretty dumb of him – considering they were in a middle of a civil war when Tony enlisted Peter.

“ENOUGH!” Hulk roared, silencing the room immediately. He had only half emerged, but he quickly morphed back into Banner.

“Thank you Hulk,” he said haughtily. “Now, stop complaining like little bitches because you’ve got some homework. You don’t even have to read anything!” He ranted, glowering at everyone as if he were the a high school teacher at his class. Peter hadn’t finished his final years, but he almost started laughing as he imagined Hulk trying to teach a class.

“Right, everyone go and get to work now. The due date for this mission was two years ago,” Tony muttered, walking out of the room. Peter was the next to stand, heading for his room to be alone while he relived his memories.

* * *

Everyone was exhausted as they reassembled in the kitchen for food. It had become an unspoken rule that everyone had to come out and eat at least twice a day, after Tony was almost hospitalised from not looking after himself.

Peter knew as he walked into the kitchen that he wasn’t the only one who had had to revisit some awful memories that should be left alone.

Thor especially looked worse for wear. Pete wondered what had happened to the god during those 1500 years, but quickly gave up the contemplation as he slid onto a bar stool, hunching his tired body over the benchtop.

He wasn’t the only one with red eyes, but that didn’t stop him trying to hide the fact that he’d been crying. No, scratch that, he’d been sobbing. Hysterical.

Seeing Uncle Ben die again was even worse than the first time, because he had to watch himself, this newly bitten kid, try and stop the man from bleeding out on the pavement. Of course, just like the first time, the blood had uncontrollably pooled out from between his fingers, soaking his uncle’s plaid shirt in a deep crimson.

No one said a word as Clint handed out mugs of coffee. This time, Peter didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. They just sat there together, spread out across the kitchen and trying to seek comfort in the presence of real people. It didn’t matter that they were still stuck in their own minds.

Peter jumped at the grating sound of a chair scraping against the tiles. He twisted around to see Steve standing up from the table. “We should get back to it,” he murmured, leaving without another word. Gradually the others peeled off too, until it was just Tony and Peter. The billionaire set down his mug to leave too when Peter leapt off the stool and joined him.

“Hey, I was wondering if maybe I could head back to my place and do this?” he asked, looking earnestly at Tony. They were the same height now, he didn’t have to look upwards anymore.

The man looked reluctant. “Are you sure that’s a good idea kid?” he asked cautiously.

“I think so,” Pete nodded, putting on a façade of confidence. He knew what Tony was referencing, but there was something he needed to do.

“Alright then. Take one of the cars, but come straight back if you need to, okay?” Tony made him promise. Peter gave him a small smile of thanks before spinning around to head for the garage.

Despite the Stark range of cars having the programming to run completely independently of the ‘driver’, Peter still preferred to drive it manually, revelling in the mundaneness of it. He didn’t really know why he preferred to do it himself. Maybe it was the feeling of control, or the feeling of something that a normal person did.

Of course, the first time he drove one of the cars, he had had a fair bit of help from FRIDAY. Tony had been to distracted to actually ask Peter if he had a license, and Peter hadn’t had to guts to correct him. So FRIDAY taught him how to do it, taking over occasionally, when he left it too late to brake or nearly had a brush up with a concrete pillar.

Now it was like second nature to him as he cruised down the highway, significantly over the speed limit. If there was one thing that had come out of the snap, it was that traffic had more than halved on the roads.

Not that he wouldn’t trade an easy commute to have everything back the way it was before, he thought bitterly as he passed another wreckage on the side of the road. Over a year on and they still hadn’t cleaned up all of the accidents that had happened, simply because people had vanished from behind the steering wheel. Crumpled skeletons of cars were now a common sight on the side of the road – people had bigger problems to deal with.

By the time he arrived to the familiar apartment block in Queens, a cool dusk had settled over the city. Even now, just sitting outside the apartment, Pete’s hands trembled as he turned off the engine.

With a deep breath he heaved himself out of the car, walking across the sidewalk and through the main doors to the elevator without giving himself a chance to think. He hit the number for his floor and listened to the machine lift him slowly up through the building.

You want to be here, you want to do this, he reminded himself as the familiar ding signalled his arrival. As he stepped out he naturally reached into the back pocket of his pants for the key. He’d kept it on him all this time, a force of habit mostly. But also to keep a piece of home close.

Right before he slid the key in, he froze. What was beyond that door terrified him, and already a sick feeling was building in his stomach. Every fibre was screaming to run away back to the Avengers, away from the place that reminded him of the truth.

“You want to be here, you want to do this.” He murmured firmly to himself, pushing the key in and unlocking the apartment.

The door swung open slowly, revealing a home that totally different to what Peter remembered. Everything inside was still the same – right down to the pile of mail on the side table. But the apartment lacked the warmth, the life and the love that used to fill it.

It was a cold place now. Literally.

Pete shivered as he stepped inside, both from the temperature and the eerie feeling settling over him. He flicked on the lights, and his eyes fell straight to the spot on the floor near the counter.

To his relief, the shattered mug and spilled tea had been cleaned up by Tony’s men. He remembered seeing it for the first time, arriving home praying that May was okay. That she had survived the snap. But that broken mug had confirmed his worst fear, and the image of it would stain his mind forever.

That day he had collapsed beside the cold tea, shaking uncontrollably and unable to catch his breath as tears cascaded down his cheeks. Tony had picked him up and taken him out of the apartment straight away, leaving his men behind to gather up Peter’s things. He’d been moved straight into the Avenger’s compound, and he hadn’t been back to the apartment since. Tony had been kind enough to fund its upkeep, knowing that Peter would need it one day – if not before, then after they reversed the snap.

But today, he had to come back. Deep down he’d known it as soon as Tony had given him the BARF tech. So, instead of letting himself fall apart, he moved to start opening up the curtains. May always said that the natural light was a blessing, and that it made the apartment look bigger.

The light was fading quickly outside, so Peter quickly got to work and took a seat on the sofa. He was nearly finished aligning the tech on his hand when he remembered something.

May’s favourite sweater.

He knew that it was hanging in her closet, but could he bring himself to go into her room?

Yes, he decided. He wanted to feel as close as he could to her, as painful as it was. So carefully he crept into her bedroom, almost afraid to breath in fear of disturbing something. The wardrobe doors creaked as he swung them open, revealing the pale pink wool that brought a remorseful smile to his face. Desperately he grasped at it, eager to be out of the room.

Once again seated on the sofa, nestled up with the pink sweater, he made the final adjustments before setting the tech to play out the memory.

Suddenly, the room was lit up with the warm light of a Tuesday afternoon. Behind him he heard footsteps, and he turned around to see his aunt walking out from the kitchen, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“May,” Pete whispered.

“Hey honey,” May looked past him as she smiled sweetly – it was a smile that Peter hadn’t seen for a long time, not since…

Peter spun around to see the man that May was smiling at, sitting in the armchair across from him.

“Ben,” Peter’s voice cracked.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered as she gave her husband a soft kiss, sitting the glasses and the bottle down on the table. The tender moment was cut short as another person entered the room.

“Happy Birthday Ben!” A younger Peter chirped as he arrived home late from band practice. Pete remembered he hadn’t seen him that morning because Ben’s shift had run late the night before.

“Pete my boy, how was school?” Ben cracked a smile, opening up his arms to embrace his nephew.

Peter watched himself become enwrapped in his uncles arms, desperately craving for that feeling again.

May was pouring the drinks, and handed one to Ben before pointing to the kitchen. “There’s a soda for you in the fridge,” she winked, rolling her eyes as Young Pete dumped his bag by the sofa. Peter ignored the younger version of himself rustling through the fridge and flitted his gaze between May and Ben, unsure of who to watch. May was taking small sips of her wine as Ben stood, moving towards the record player and sifting through their vinyl collection.

“Fooled around and fell in love,” Peter murmured with Ben as he declared what he had chosen, carefully sliding the record out of its cover and placing it on the player. May lit up as she heard the song begin to play, sitting down her wine as Ben moved back over to wrap her in his arms. Together they started doing their own version of a slow dance, the Parker version as Ben declared it. He had sworn it was the best way to woo a lady.

May let out a joyed sound of surprise as Ben tipped her back suddenly, a charming twinkle in his eye as he admired his wife.

Young Peter sat on the bench and watched on with his soda as Peter watched on from the couch. His uncle and aunt swayed together slowly, basked in the warm light that shone in through the window. May laughed softly and rested her head on Ben’s chest as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, her dark eyes warm with a deep love.

It was a beautiful moment, and Peter couldn’t help but smile.

Young Peter behind him jumped down from the bench and headed for his room, apparently having better things to do than watch May and Ben slow dance in the living room. Stupid boy. The memory slowly faded in front of Peter, the song dying out just as the chorus began to start.

Suddenly, the room was quiet again, the warm light dissipating. Peter was alone in the empty apartment. He gripped the sweater a little tighter.

He hadn’t realised that he had been crying, but his sticky cheeks begged to differ.

The memory was of Ben’s birthday, nearly a year before he was murdered in the street. No one had known that it was to be his last at the time, but how could they have?

Pete brought the sweater up to his face, breathing in the sweet scent of May’s perfume. He wasn’t ever very good with girly stuff like perfumes, but he knew that it was something flowery. He found comfort in it regardless.

The silence was too loud he decided, so still gripping the sweater he walked over to the record player. Ben had always kept his vinyl filed alphabetically, so Peter went straight for the top half and flicked through the covers until he came across the Boogie Nights #2 cover. Ever so carefully he pulled out the record and placed it on the record player. It had been years since he’d used the thing, but Ben had made sure back then that he knew how to work one.

As he dropped the needle and the intro music began to flow through the apartment, Peter almost felt as if he could turn around and see May and Ben back in the living room, dancing again. As Elvin Bishop’s voice sang the first words, Pete turned around to face the lonely room, subconsciously drawing the sweater closer to his chest. With a sigh, he slowly walked back to the sofa, dragging a blanket up and over his shoulders as he laid down.

The gentle words of Fooled Around and Fell in Love helped to ease his pain, but not enough to stop the slow trickle of tears that made their way down Peter’s cheeks. He stayed there, utterly exhausted under the blanket with May’s pink sweater clutched close to his chest. He let the words of the song lull him to sleep, all the while imagining May and Ben in front of him again in the living room, alive and in love.

#one shot #marvel #marvel fanfic #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #tony stark has a heart #poor peter parker #sad peter parker #peter parker survived the snap #but may didn't #mcu #mcufam #fyeahmarvel #fluff #peter parker needs a hug #irondad

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