The Two of Us Part 4
Summary: You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda’s world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what’s happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.
Pairings: bucky barnes x avenger!reader
Warnings: mind control, swearing, a little fluff, angst, and WandaVision spoilers
Word Count: 3.4k
The Two of Us Masterlist
gif by @natalliaromanov
Their little gurgles were just to die for. Gently, you rocked Tommy in your arms as Wanda held Billy close to her chest. They were tiny things, only a few days old and already had eyes wide looking at the world. Bucky was out for the day and you couldn’t wait any longer to see the twins. Their gummy grins melted your heart when you first met them and you refused to stay away any longer.
“I think he likes you,” Wanda laughed as Tommy went to pull at your ear with his small fists.
“I’m the cool aunt, I hope he would,” you joked, gently patting him on the back as you continued to lightly sway.
Just as you felt his tiny body slowly lull to sleep, head resting on your shoulder, a small whine escaped his quivering lips. Right after, Billy let out a gentle wail in Wanda’s arms.
“Is somebody hungry?” you cooed, going to reach for one of the bottles on the coffee table. With grabby hands, the small child in your arms happily plunged the bottle into his mouth before relaxing once again in your arms.
“You’re a natural.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“James would lose it if he saw this.”
You laughed at her comment, taking a deep breath in. Soon enough, Tommy was done with his bottle and tiredly casted it to the side. Some of the milk spilled upon your lap, dampening your shirt in its wake.
“Looks like someone made a mess,” you winked at him, gently setting the baby down in his crib as you went to clean up.
Before Wanda could fuss and get up, you insisted she sat back down. It was as if overnight she had become a mother, and while graceful as ever, obviously tired. You commanded her to stay seated as the babies napped while you made your way to the bathroom. Life sure moves fast in the suburbs. If only that husband of yours also didn’t insist on moving with it.
Turning on the faucet, you let the warm water glide against your hands. The weather was gorgeous as ever, your mind drifting to what Bucky might be doing on a day like this. You awoke to a simple note, detailing he’d be out for the day, little explanation as to where he was going. As always, he signed it with a loving always by your heart, your Jamie.
It was sweet, but it was hard to deny there was something different in your rhythm as of late. Bucky hovered over you like a mother would a sick child, always needing reassurance you were alright, that you were feeling okay. It’s hard to deny it’s nice to know how much he cares, but the sudden wave of nerves was worrying you.
Mindlessly, you allowed your hand to glide along your scar in your palm, only now a faint murmur on your skin. Where did I even get this? After drying your hands, they travelled to the dog tags that hung around your neck, being comforted by their metallic touch. In a small way, it was sort of like holding Bucky’s hand, the metal of the necklace matching that of his left hand.
Exiting, you went to sit back down on the coach, quietly conversing with Wanda as the twins napped.
“So?” you echoed in confusion, a mischievous grin on her face.
“C’mon, don’t play dumb with me. When are you and Bucky going to give Billy and Tommy some playdates?”
“One day at a time, I still have to remind Bucky to cover his hand half the time before he slips out,” you laughed lightly.
Everywhere you turned, someone was talking about kids this children that. In its own way, it was endearing, but now it was damn near exhausting now. But you didn’t have the heart to scold Wanda, so you just laughed off her joke.
“Hey, Wanda, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything,” she insisted, placing a reassuring hand on top of yours. Her smile was bright as ever. She was truly content to be where she was, happy with the life she was gifted.
Your lips parted to ask a question, to share your distress. The moments the world seemed to move along without you, the odd way some of your neighbors acted, how everything was just moving too fast to ever really adjust to. As you looked into her cheery eyes, you didn’t have the heart to tamper with her joyful disposition.
“What do you do when you and Viz aren’t on the same page? I feel like me and James have hit an odd place as of recently.” Talking about your marriage issues was more ideal than talking about reality, you decided. Wanda was your friend at the end of the day and you knew you could turn to her.
She tilted her head, a small look of disbelief flashing across her smile. “What do you mean?”
“I feel like. . .” you trailed off, giving it a moments contemplation, “Every time we’ve reached the perfect life, something happens. You know? There’s a lot of good, and when it’s good it’s great, but it’s only ever temporary.”
She nodded slowly as you talked, drinking up every last one of your words. A sudden pool of tears brimmed at her eyes as she leaned forward, taking both your hands in hers. She spoke slowly, keeping her composure as she went. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. But Westview is perfect for us, okay? We’re all going to be so happy here, you’ll see. You and Bucky will make it work.”
Bucky. The name had slipped out once when you had dinner with the Harts. The memory crashed into your mind, making your brain pulse in confusion. That night was lifetimes ago, a whole other reality at this point. But why did it feel like so much more?
As your mind slowly drifted, you heard a bark. In of itself, that’s not unusual in Westview, it was the fact that it sounded so close to you that caught your attention. As if the sound came from inside the house you were in.
“Would you look at the time, I think you’ve got to head out now,” Wanda interrupted, physically ushering your body towards the door, hand guiding you towards the front of the house. A smile was plastered on her face, but a sense of urgency was in her voice.
“Oh, see you later,” you replied, giving an awkward wave to her. Before you could turn to exit, you try to reenter the half closed door in hopes to retrieve your jacket.
Your eyes peel wide open and your jaw goes askew at the sight of the set of five year olds that now stood behind Wanda, waving an eager farewell.
“Goodbye, Aunty!” they both called out, Wanda slamming the door before you could react.
I need a drink.
Bucky woke up, a cold sweat clinging onto his temples, threatening to traverse down his jawline. Sitting up slowly, he let out a soft sigh. The early morning sun had begun to peak through the windows, gradually illuminating the bedroom in a golden glow. To his side, you peacefully slept, limbs tangled about one another. A small smile cracked upon his lips, hand instinctively going to caress your cheek.
Restlessly, he ran his fingers through his bed head before slipping from under the covers, creeping open the nightstand drawer to get out a piece of pen and paper.
Good morning, honeybee. I’ve just headed out for a quick walk around town. Don’t worry, I just couldn’t get that much sleep and wanted to get out. Don’t wait up for me, go visit the twins, I’ll be home later. It’s just been a long week. Always by your heart, your Jamie.
After carefully writing his thoughts, he folded the note by your nightstand and shoved the pen in his pocket before placing a loving kiss on your forehead. For a moment, you shuffled a little in your sleep, a soft mumble parting your lips. He froze, praying silently he hadn’t woken you up. You had resettled back into your laxed position, cueing Bucky now was his time to slip out.
Wandering. That’s what it felt like walking through the labyrinth of houses in Westview. It was too early to see anyone out and about in the town, cars silently parked in their driveways, couples sound asleep in their four walls. It felt like he was making no progress; the moment he thought he had reached the end of town, there’d be another identical row of houses. It was borderline maddening at that point.
But he wasn’t here for himself, so it didn’t matter. What mattered was finding answers because maybe then they could help you. Some days you’d stare out the windows of your perfect house, eyes glazed over, a cloud of aloofness floating around your head. A gentle tap would restore you back to the moment, to your reality, but it still worried Bucky. Everything was perfect, why weren’t you happy?
Why can’t I make her happy?
He couldn’t sit by and wait another day as he watched his wife morph into a shell of a person. He ached for the mornings you’d kiss him awake, lips trailing down his face as a greeting to the day. There were no longer spontaneous moments of song, happiness oozing from your pores. The days were more mellow, more strict in their regime. You were playing the perfect housewife, but that’s not what Bucky wanted, it never was. He just wanted to be with you. Westview was changing that, remolding you to fit its standard and the thought conjured a gnarled feeling in his stomach.
Then it appeared. What looked like the edge of the endless loop of Westview. It was simple, really, just a street that had the name Ellis Avenue on a rusted green sign. An empty field could be seen as Bucky looked out at it, the grass seemingly untouched by a single footprint.
He waited there a moment, waiting for something to move, perhaps a car to zip down the street or even for a squirrel to scurry down one of trees from across the road. Nothing. Silence and more silence filled each passing second as he stood there.
As if walking on eggshells, his step slowly carried him over closer and closer to the seemingly abandoned road. It sent chills down his spine as he approached the edge of town. What was there to be scared of? It was just a street, a road to cross.
With the final step Bucky took, his body was flung back by a nasty shock, tumbling against the silky grass he stood sure footed on just moments ago. His eyes shot up at the invisible forcefield accusingly, squinting hard to make out something, anything. Whatever he had just come across, it wasn’t budging.
What the hell is it trying to keep out? Or rather, what the hell is it trying to keep in?
At that moment, he knew he had to pursue it further. There was no longer a doubt within his mind that something was up with this perfect place. He took a deep breath, rolling up his sleeves with a certain determination before sprinting full force at the invisible obstacle.
Try as it might, it couldn’t keep Bucky from pushing through, straining his body against its power, twisting and turning his molecules as he forced his way through. With a defiant scream, he collapsed to the other side.
Ringing was the only thing Bucky could hear, eyes scanning the early morning sun, peaking its way onto military grade machines, humongous tents peppered about the field. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought it was a military base.
His cheek still laid against the ground, the water droplets of the morning dew coating the left side of his face. With a grunt, he pushed himself up, inspecting the area around him, hopelessly trying to straighten his thoughts while his brain seared.
Once the noise subsided, he had to adjust to reality. He remembered it all, what was happening inside the hex. He remembered the hand holding, the kissing, the I love yous. His hands immediately went to feel for his dog tags, now missing from his neck. So, it was real.
Overwhelmed couldn’t begin to cover what he was feeling. A wave of nausea rushed through his body as he clasped his palms to the soft earth, seeking some reassurance in his surroundings. From the heavily armed base that surrounded the seemingly desolate Westview, he knew it was serious.
I can leave now.
Get help and be on my way.
The silence of the forest was sickening, allowing him to marinate in his own thoughts. He took a deep breath in, preparing to stand up, to find someone to figure out what was happening. He couldn’t. His hands were glued to the dirt and his body protested every movement. More than anything he wanted to leave, to pretend this didn’t happen, but he could never bring himself to enact the final motion.
I can’t leave her.
Bucky was enraged with himself, with his inability to move on. But the thought of you waiting at home, him never returning leaving you wondering why left his heart in shambles. He mumbled a disdained damnit as his hand wiped across his mouth in frustration.
He had to help you.
Feeling around in his coat pocket, he was relieved to pull out a photograph of you two, presumably one the other version of himself carried at all times, and a pen. With a shaky hand he began to write.
It’s not real. You are James Buchanan Barnes. You were born March 10, 1917 and are the eldest of four. You and Y/N aren’t in love. Y/N doesn’t love you. Out here she doesn’t have her magic. I don’t know who’s controlling this. You have to remember.”
Slipping the photograph back into his pocket, he takes a deep breath, pleading to the stars above he remembered when he saw it. It was a shot in the dark, a pipedream at best, but it was the only way he could think to help.
I’ll find her, no matter where, no matter how.
With a final deep breath, he pushed back through into the hex, hoping this time he could fathom the willpower to successfully save you.
“You’re getting weaker, please tell me what’s happening,” he pleaded softly, hand gently moving to your chin in an attempt to turn your face to his.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit complicated, Bucky.”
It had been four months since you had last seen Bucky, distance tearing you apart from one another. You had come back to Wakanda, no longer being able to restrain yourself. Even as you boarded the plane, you cursed yourself for your weakness, succumbing to those loving blue eyes before anything else.
His hair had grown out now, his beard more rugged, but he always remained a sight for sore eyes.
“Why’d you come all the way out here?”
“Because I can help.”
“The Wakandans got that.”
“With the nightmares. Again.”
No matter how much magic you could conjure, you knew the nightmares would somehow come back. You were too out of reach, never close enough to pull them back out. The first few nights after you had left, he was fine. A month after your departure, they slowly weaseled their way back into his head after you had fought so hard to keep them out.
“You tried and it didn’t work,” he corrected lightly, “and I’m really thankful, but I can’t be helped.”
“I’ve helped before,” you interjected, desperate to give aid.
“I’m not your burden anymore. I can handle my own battles.”
“You’ve never been a burden to me. You don’t have to do everything by yourself, please,” you pleaded.
His tired lips let out a soft sigh, as his hand went to cup your face, thumb rubbing slow circles around your cheek. When will she learn?
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I’ve just been. . .”
Your fingers crept around his hand that held lightly onto your face. You had missed this, yearned for his touch for so long you thought you might short circuit under the heat of his hand.
“I know. I know, Bucky.”
“I missed you,” he whispered, eyes trained on yours.
“I missed you too.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
Your control on your powers was slipping by the second, each new day bringing a new challenge to your magic. Looking deep into his sorrowful eyes, you swallowed hard. You couldn’t tell him why they were messed up and in that moment you knew you never would. All those dream-like nights hadn’t come without their consequences. Who could have fathomed what toll it would put on you? You stayed though, never really knowing why.
It was even harder trying to ward off the grotesque images from halfway across the globe. You fought them out of Bucky’s mind vigilantly for as long as your body could manage, but your strength was slipping.
Helping Bucky was hurting you.
You’d never been a strong witch and exerting what little power you were gifted with was teaching you an ugly lesson.
Your eyes averted his gazes, now finding their way to the ground. The one you would spend countless nights talking to Bucky on, hand in hand, staring up at his ceiling before crawling into bed together. It was hallowed ground as far as you were concerned, tainted by your stare.
“I’m just tired,” you professed, not entirely lying, but vagueness leaving room for interpretation.
“You’re a hero, you’re allowed to be,” he encouraged.
Your head now rested on his shoulder, sparks flicking off your skin as it made contact with his. Even just sharing the same space with him for a few minutes was enough to make you collapse. If he just said the words, you knew you’d come running back, abandoning life back at home to stay with him. It was a scary realization, to know someone had so much power over you.
“It doesn’t always feel like that.”
“Well, you’ll always be my hero.”
“You’re too kind.”
Through the cloth, you could make out the silhouette out the starry night sky, the same one you admired with him for so many nights before. You found comfort knowing you and Bucky always fell asleep under the same stars each night, sharing the blanket of night no matter how far apart. For a sweet, synthetic moment you two enjoyed the quiet night.
“I kept them.”
His silence told you he was confused.
“The dog tags. They’ve kept me safe, Bucky.”
“I knew they would.” A satisfied smile melted onto his face.
“Always by my heart,” you lilted.
“Right where I’d like to be,” he answered.
A gentle breeze passed by, flicking open the cloth door to reveal more of the gorgeous night sky to the pair of lovers.
“Have you heard what’s happening?” His tone was careful, ashamed he had to intrude on such a beautiful moment.
You swallowed hard, already knowing what he was referring to. It was the whole reason you came to visit, to make sure you saw Bucky one last time. “With Thanos? Yeah, I have.”
“What do you think?”
“I think I miss the world before aliens.” Simultaneously, a defeated laugh resounded from the both of you.
“Are you going to fight?” It felt like cotton was sticking to the walls of Bucky’s mouth, making each word harder.
“I’m not as strong as I used to be.”
“They need you. You’re everything to that team.” If it weren’t for Bucky’s self doubt, he wouldn’t have said that. Instead he would have confessed I need you. You’re everything to me. But in that moment, he couldn’t muster the courage, silently hoping one day he could.
“I don’t know, Buck.”
“I know you’ll make the right choice,” he affirmed, placing a gentle kiss upon your temple before you both took one last moment to admire the night sky. Who knew when you’d be able to share it again.
A/N: I know this chapter was slow but bear with me :.) All likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
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Can’t Take the Heat
Restaurant AU- Chef!Wanda x Server!Reader
A/N: INTRODUCING TONY STANK!! I like this chapter a lot, but chapter 4 is my favorite so stay tuned lol. So school is about to pick up for me so I’ll need to only do one release a week on Fridays. I wrote my first Natasha x reader fic that you should check out if you’re into that. Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy :)
Chapter Three: Iron Man
The restaurant isn’t the same without Wanda and it wasn’t just because there was a boisterous man in a bold, red chef’s coat and bright yellow crocs singing along loudly to “Back in Black” in the kitchen.
In Wanda’s absence, Steve hired Tony Stark to temporarily take her place. Tony was more well known on the West coast for his creative takes on Italian originals. While Vira was known for its Eastern European food, you still served cuisines from all over. Natasha wasn’t thrilled with the choice of replacement, but she was familiar with his cooking and she knew he was one of the best.
You didn’t mind Tony. After the previous weekend, your team could use all the cheering up they could get and Tony delivered. Tony breathed life back into the kitchen of Vira with his sarcastic jokes, playful banter and his obnoxiously loud rock music during dinner prep.
“Hey kid,” you begin to look around wondering if Tony is talking to you. He nods as if he can read your mind.
“Yes, Chef?” You say walking towards his station. An aromatic pot full of a boiling liquid sits between the two of you.
The playful man hops on the counter, you try to ignore how unsanitary that is. “Please, call me Tony,”
Almost as if it were planned Sam shouted, “I don’t know about all of that. The last time she called a chef by their first name it didn’t end so well!” The entire kitchen burst into a fit of laughter and you were pissed.
Sam had no right to bring up what happened with Wanda, “shut the fuck up,” you shout with your hands balled into a fist by your side. You were protective of the Sokovian chef, especially in her time of grief.
Sam raised his hands in mock surrender as all of the laughter completely died down.
Tony is fanning himself with a towel, “whew, it’s getting a little hot in here,” he says looking in your direction. You don’t even crack a smile.
“Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to know your name. I’m trying to learn everyone’s name so I don’t refer to you as server number one or number two and so on and so forth.”
“Y/N,” he exaggerates his mouth movement as he pronounces the name, “simple enough but I’m gonna call you hot potato.” Tony has a satisfied grin on his face as he hops off the counter and continues to stir the pot, literally and figuratively.
“I thought the whole point of learning my name was so you didn’t have to call me something stupid,” you say rolling your eyes, still annoyed with Sam and now the man in front of you.
“Well my dear, that was before you gave me the idea,” he pats you on the back and moves to glide around the kitchen, subtly dancing to “Thank You,” by Led Zeppelin.
You shake your head and head out toward the bar. You weren’t as busy on Tuesday nights as you were on the weekends, so you had time to talk with your friends.
Monica and Hope are staring through the kitchen window in wonder and amusement as they watch Tony use a whisk to lip sync.
“Hey Y/N, what do you think of the new guy?” Scott Lang says, leaning his elbows on the bar after setting a guest’s drink down.
“I think he’s a pompous ass who needs to be humbled,” you say with a grimace. You look up and realize your friends are staring at you blankly.
“I agree with Y/N, he’s doing too much,” Okoye says, making herself known in the conversation she seemed too good for.
“Oh come on guys, I think he’s fun!” Carol says while stabbing a drink ticket and placing her table’s glasses on a tray.
“Yeah, Y/N, he’s just trying to be a beacon of light in the darkness yeah?” The new bartender, Loki’s brother Thor says, introspectively. You feel like he doesn’t have a say because he hasn’t worked here for long so he barely knows anything about the atmosphere at Vira.
You roll your eyes and move to go check on your tables. Shortly after you leave the bar area, Stephen, is shooing your friends away from the bar, “this isn’t social hour!”
You were counting down the hours til the end of your shift. You had every Wednesday off while your roommates didn’t, so you had the entire apartment to yourself. Wednesdays were the days for you to lie in bed watching Netflix all day. Only leaving your cozy spot to pee or get some food. You were at Vira six days a week, those student loans can’t pay themselves.
Once you were cut you changed out of your white button up shirt and black slacks and into jeans and a band tee. You almost immediately regret wearing your Fleetwood Mac Tee, you just knew Tony would have something to say. You avoid him for as long as possible, ducking behind random customers at the bar.
While sipping on your drink of choice, you decided that your day off the following day would be best spent checking on Wanda instead of watching Netflix in bed, but you didn’t want to overstep. You walk to Wanda and Steve’s shared office and you see the handsome blonde going over your food sales and inventory.
“Hey boss, you got a minute?”
Steve sets his stack of papers down and gestures toward the open seat across from his, “please.”
“I was wondering if you could give me Chef’s address? I feel really bad about the other day and I want to go see her on my day off tomorrow. I just want to make sure she’s not alone right now.”
“Y/N I think that’s very thoughtful of you. Here,”
Steve grabs a Sticky Note and jots down a messy address, “I’m also gonna give you the door code so you can go straight up. I can’t promise she’ll open her door, though.” He continues writing with a chuckle before handing you the yellow piece of paper.
“Thank you so much. Are you sure it’s okay if I just pop up at her apartment?”
“Oh yeah, me and Nat do it all the time. I honestly don’t think she’d interact with anyone otherwise. The doorman’s name is Paul, he’s the sweetest guy. I’ll let him know tonight that you’re planning on dropping by.”
“I really appreciate this Steve,” you say as you begin standing up.
“I can tell you really care about her,” he gives you a knowing smile.
You walk towards the door, “I really do,” you say with a nod as you try to exit the office but a voice stops you.
“Oh Y/N, I almost forgot,” he moves to stand up to meet you at the door, this must be sensitive information. You assume about the Chef. “Wanda doesn’t exactly know about Tony yet, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to her,” he says with soft eyes.
You throw out a, “You got it, Boss,” and leave the office. You don’t feel great about having to lie to the Chef, but maybe work won’t even come up.
Once both Bucky and Monica are cut you prepare to escape, unnoticed by Tony. You smile triumphantly before downing the last of your drink and heading out the front door. You almost cross the threshold when you hear, “Hot potato!” You drop your head, freezing in your spot.
“You almost slipped out on me, here. I made you something to enjoy on your day off tomorrow,” he hands you a quart container of what appears to be soup.
“Wow Tony, I don’t know what to say. Thanks I guess,” You say sincerely confused.
“Anytime Hot Potato, and hey,” he leans in playfully, “nice t-shirt, didn’t know you were a middle-aged woman.”
“Aaanddd you ruined it,” you say swiftly exiting the restaurant, followed by the sound of Tony’s laughter as you walk down the street.
You wake up the next morning anxious about your plans to see the Chef today. You don’t know what you’ll be walking into when you go see Wanda. Will she be happy to see you or will she slam the door in your face? You begin to get ready before heading out to grab breakfast for you and Wanda. You figure she wouldn’t be in much of a mood to cook, so you decide on crepes from a little bakery on your street that she’s told you about before. You put on a simple jeans and tee shirt combo with a hoodie, you don't want to look too nice. You give yourself a good once over then you grab your tote and head out.
One you’ve got your food and drinks in tow, you approach the luxurious apartment in the borough over from yours. You reach your hand to buzz in when you suddenly hear a click and the large door is opening.
Once you’re inside you stop your jaw from dropping as you take in your surroundings.
There was a smooth mahogany wood desk that you are almost sure is taller than you. The intricate tile floors, the glistening chandelier, you couldn’t imagine Wanda living in such a nice place. She seemed more like the quaint, studio apartment type.
The nicely dressed older man who had let you into the building is smiling as he watches you admire the nice building, “You must be Y/N, Mr. Rogers told me you’d be dropping by today!”
“Hi, Paul, nice to meet you,” you tuck the bag of food under the arm that’s holding the drink tray and reach out to shake the older man’s hand.
“Ms. Maximoff is on the 8th floor, then you’ll hit a left right off the elevator and her apartment is right there.”
“Thank you so much Paul,” you say as the elevator dings to signal its arrival.
You begin to fidget nervously with your hands once you’re inside the elevator. What if the chef hates surprises? What if she takes your crepes and turns you away? Your breath catches as the elevator comes to a halt. Following Paul’s directions you hit a left and you’re met with a scarlet door. You readjust the items you’re holding once more and raise a fist to knock. You hear movement on the other side and you’re fighting every alarm inside of you telling you to just run away. Before you can bolt the door swings open to reveal,
“Y/N, what are you doing here,” The redhead is wrapped in a black silk robe, her silk sleeping shorts peeking out from underneath. But based on the way she’s clinging to the tops of the robe to keep it closed, you know she has no top on. Her hair also seems to be a little rustled. I guess Natasha and the Chef were closer than you thought.
“I-I just came to bring Chef some breakfast and uh check in on her,” you say, holding out the food and drinks so you can make a clean getaway.
The redhead stares at your extended arms, “that’s nice. Well come on in,” she backs up and widens the door so you can enter. You take in your surroundings and notice shoes on a rack by the door, so you begin removing your own.
“I’ll go get Wanda,” Nat disappears into the room at the end of the hall. You’re not quite sure what to do so you head towards the room that appears to be the kitchen. Wanda’s apartment is simple and quaint, but the kitchen. The kitchen is magnificent. You’ve never seen so much counter space in a New York apartment before. The stainless steel fridge was huge and there were so many appliances you wanted to try out for yourself one day. She even has a pasta maker!
You set the goodies down on the table and begin to take the crepes you got for Wanda out of the bag, but didn’t open anything. You didn’t want to assume you’d be eating breakfast with her.
“She’ll be out in a minute,” Natasha says, sneaking up on you. You swear she makes no sounds when she moves. The redhead has replaced her robe with a tee shirt.
“Uh, thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. If I’d known you’d be here I would’ve,” you say awkwardly.
“Wanda and I aren’t sleeping together if that’s what you think,” Nat says with a subtle smirk and a glint in her eyes.
“Oh no, no of course not. I-I didn’t think you two were--”
“It’s okay, I would’ve thought the same thing. I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t do anything too extreme, but she seems to be getting better.”
“I am better. I do not know why you insist on babysitting me,” you hear a groggy voice add.
You turn to see Wanda enter the kitchen and your breath is taken away. She is in a baggy tee shirt that almost reaches her knees, you’d be willing to bet it belonged to her brother. Her hair is tousled but still looks like it was professionally styled this morning. Her eyes look raw, as if she hadn’t stopped crying since Sunday, but there’s a small smile playing on her face.
“Good morning, Chef,” you say nervously. Wanda’s face falls when she hears the formal name.
“I’m so sorry about the other day, Y/N. You can call me Wanda.” Wanda says approaching her kitchen table, “what do we have here?” She says taking in the display of takeout boxes.
“Uh, I stopped by Puglia’s and got you a crepe and some coffee. I didn’t know if you got up early or not so I’m sorry if you’ve already eaten.”
“I actually just woke up. This is so thoughtful of you, did you bring any for yourself?”
“Yeah, but I can just eat it at home, I don’t wanna bother you guys,” you say, glancing at Natasha who’s sipping on a cup of tea.
“Please, eat with me, I’d really enjoy the company,” she says with a soft smile.
“Oh and what about my company?” Natasha says playfully.
“I’m tired of your company. Especially because you snore and I can hear it from a room away!”
You try to hide your smile and sigh of relief when the auburn haired Chef confirms that they sleep in separate beds.
Natasha gives Wanda a playful hit on the shoulder, “oh shut up, you love me.”
You watch the two women interact in awe. Before this past weekend, you had no idea just how close Wanda was with Natasha. You thought they were just coworkers, acquaintances at most.
Natasha gives Wanda a smirk that only she would understand and says, “I’ll leave you two to it. Good to see you, Y/N.” The sultry redhead goes back to what you assume is the guest room and leaves you and Wanda to talk amongst yourselves.
Wanda directed you around her kitchen as you insisted on getting breakfast unpacked and ready to eat. You grab plates and utensils for the two of you and you begin placing Wanda’s food on the plate.
“I can’t remember the last time someone served me food,” Wanda says with a sad smile.
“You deserve it Che—Wanda, you do so much for other people. Your food doesn’t just feed hungry stomachs, it feels their souls,” you shake your head, you get carried away. But you just wanted Wanda to see her value.
“Y/N,” Wanda says in an uneven voice, placing her hands on the table to ground herself. “I don’t understand why you’re being so kind to me. I was horrible to you. I really don’t deserve your kindness,” she says, shaking her head.
“Wanda, you’ve been through something unimaginable. I think any reaction is more than warranted. I didn’t take it personally, I know you didn’t mean any harm,” You try and fail to say with no feeling in your voice
Wanda grimaces as she realizes just how much she has affected you
“But that’s the thing, I intended on hurting you. I wanted to make you feel just as shitty as I did and that was not right, I’m sorry” Wanda says in a sad, soft tone.
You place both crepes on a plate and hold them both out, “are you feeling sweet or savory this morning?”
Wanda looks at you, wondering if you meant to ignore her apology, “Sweet I guess,” she says, reaching for the crepe covered in fruit and whip cream.
“Good choice,” you say with a smile. You secretly were hoping she’d pick the sweet one because you love a good savory crepe.
You sit down in the chair opposite of her and begin to dig into your meal. The two of you eat in silence for a little while, but there’s an elephant in the room.
“You aren’t obligated to forgive me,” Wanda says out of nowhere, slightly startling you, “I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. You don’t owe it to me, but I just need to know that you know I’m sorry.”
“Wanda, of course you’re forgiven,” you say, reaching across the table to touch your hand. You move to pull it back, but she places her other hand on top of yours to stop you. “I haven’t said so yet, but I’m really very sorry about your brother,” your voice is quivering slightly.
She gives your hand an affectionate squeeze, “Thank you, Y/N, I appreciate that, you. I appreciate you and all you’ve done.” she places her fork down signaling she’s done eating. You move to clear your plates but she stops you. “You don’t have to clean, I can get this later.”
“I insist, you just relax,” you move towards the sink to start washing the dishes.
“Y/N, no. Steve and Natasha haven’t let me lift a finger all week. Let me do something,” she pleads, her hand trying to pry the plates from your hands.
You look into the older woman’s eyes, “fine. I wash, you dry.”
She gives a victorious smile and a soft thank you.
Once the two of you finish the dishes, the Sokovian invites you to hangout with her on the couch. While doing the dishes, the two of you talked about random topics. You made a point to avoid talking about the chef that took her place this week.
The two of you were on opposite ends of the couch, feet curled under yoursleves, slowly sipping your coffee. Something was weighing heavily on you, but you didn’t want to bring up Wanda’s brother again. You can only imagine how deep every mention of him cuts.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Wanda’s voice, “What’s got you so troubled,” Wanda says before taking a sip of her coffee.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for not making you leave the room to take the call. I knew it was sensitive information and I handed you the phone in front of everyone,” you hadn’t realized how much you’d been internally beating yourself up about it until you said it out loud.
“Y/N No. You did everything right. I should have left on my own, but I panicked and did the only thing I knew how to do at that moment,” she seems embarrassed as she remembers her destructive blow up in the kitchen during service. “I also wanted to thank you for helping me in the walk-in. I thought I was going to pass out and you brought me back.”
You listened to the woman’s words intently and instinctively reached out for the chef’s hand, “I understand that and of course. I used to have panic attacks all the time so I recognized the signs. Are you alright though? I meant to check on you since then, but I only had your cell number and I thought it would be inappropriate to use it for personal matters.”
“Oh Y/N, you can use my number any time, I mean it,” she says firmly. Your stomach flutters at her earnestness. “But I’m better now. I took a day to process and get everything arranged for him. I had Pi-Pietro,” she chokes out, “cremated and now he sits in my closet, I’m not sure where I want to put him yet. Natasha got all of his possessions taken care of and Steve called his landlord and friends in San Francisco.”
“I’m so glad Nat and Steve have been there for you. Like I said, I wanted to be there for you too but I didn’t know how,”
“You’ve done more than enough Y/N,” she’s staring at you with a look you can’t quite decipher. Her hand is still wrapped tightly in yours.
The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment before you decide to break it, “Could you tell me more about him? I-I mean only if that’s okay with you.”
A sad smile graced her lips, “Of course, what do you want to know?”
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