Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wanda frowned, running her fingers through her hair. The auburn locks mocked her, laying over her shoulders as she ran her eyes over them. There was something wrong, whether it was the curls or the style, Wanda couldn’t tell. Whatever, fuck her hair, and fuck her roommate for getting sick.

A groan sounded out from the other room, and Wanda let her frustration slip away. It wasn’t Kate’s fault for getting sick, but it just so happened to be at the most unfortunate time. Really, Wanda should be studying for her finals, her textbooks laying open on the kitchen counter. But instead, she was here running her fingers through stubborn hair and mentally cursing out her roommate as she searched for a hair tie.

The only thing that would save her appearance now was a ponytail, high on her head. Anything to give the illusion of confidence. At least her slight curls would give her hair some dimension.

Sighing, Wanda let herself look away from the mirror, catching a glimpse of dark circles under her normally vibrant green eyes. Were her cheeks more hollow than usual? She couldn’t tell, but judging by the way her stomach rumbled, she knew she had forgotten about eating in favor of studying for the past few weeks.

Swiping some concealer under her eyes, Wanda dabbed the product into her skin as she walked towards the living room. Kate was a good roommate, always cleaning up after herself and offering Wanda ice cream after every failed date she went on. But truly, she’d chosen the worst time to get sick. Wanda had volunteered, of course, but interviewing some rich multi-millionaire was not high on her fun list.

“You’re a lifesaver, truly,” Kate mumbled, her flushed cheeks appearing over the arm of the couch. She’d been running herself ragged, trying to write papers and organize some questions for this interview. It was at Romanoff’s Global Enterprise, a special section for the school newspaper. Goddamn Kate and all her extracurriculars. Now, instead of losing herself in textbooks and notetaking, Wanda was driving 165 miles into Seattle in her shitty old Honda.

Evidently, the CEO she was meeting today was an enigmatic and charming woman, one of the youngest millionaires in the country. Natasha Romanoff. God, even her name sounded rich.

“I’m so sorry Wanda,” Kate’s voice was raspy, and Wanda filled a glass of water for her. “This interview took me months to get, and by the time I would be able to reschedule, we’d both be graduated. You know I’m the editor for the newspaper, I can’t give up this opportunity. I’m not even kidding, it's the chance of a lifetime.” Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. Even though she looks like she’s on death's door, Kate still manages to have flawless skin and long, flowing hair. Wanda feels a pang of sympathy, bringing the glass of water over and swiping a bottle of NyQuil from the counter.

“It’s okay, Kate. I promise. Take this and go the fuck to bed, you look like you’re seconds away from passing out.”

“Fine, but here are the supplies you’ll need,” Kate reaches for her bag, pulling out a recording device and a printed stack of questions. “Just hit record and ask all these questions, I’ll transcribe everything later when this fever goes away and I can finally think straight.”

Wanda suppresses the wave of panic that rises in her, taking the questions and recording device with slightly trembling fingers and tucking them safely in her messenger bag. She wouldn’t do this for anyone else, only Kate.

“Go to bed, I’ll be fine,” Wanda says, her voice not sounding as confident as she’d like.

Giving her a knowing look, Kate shuffles off towards the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around her. “You’ll be fine, just ask the questions and that’ll be enough information to get you through the interview. And Wanda,” Kate pauses at the door, her tired gray eyes finding green. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’d better get going,” Wanda smiles, her hands shooing her roommate through the door. “It’s a long drive, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Good luck, you’re my favorite roommate.”

“Kate, I’m your only roommate.”

—

The drive is easy, not many people are up this early. The trees whizz past, Wanda’s foot never leaving the gas pedal as she makes her way towards the city. She doesn’t have to be at the interview until two this afternoon, but there’s something intoxicating about driving 15 miles over the speed limit on a bare highway.

Pictures of a tall, curved glass building float through Wanda’s mind. She was certain that the pictures of Romanoff’s Global Enterprise on Google didn’t compare to the actual building itself, and she brushed off the waves of anxiety building inside her chest.

It’s a quarter to two when Wanda pulls her car in front of the building. The reflective glass stares down at her, the top of the building too high to see without craning her neck. Large lettering spells out Romanoff above the entryway, and Wanda feels her fingers trembling as she hands her keys to the valet driver. Honestly, a valet driver? How much more over the top could this day get?

Walking into the lobby, Wanda hears the muted click of her low heels as she tugs her dress shirt down. A tall blonde woman walks towards her, a smile plastered on her face as her eyes rake up and down Wanda’s body, no doubt judging her outfit. The woman looks pristine, with a slicked-back ponytail and a subtle hint of mascara. Her blazer is sharp and tailored, and Wanda fights the urge to tug her dress shirt again.

“I’m here to see Ms. Romanoff, my name is Wanda Maximoff,” The statement comes out as more of a question, and Wanda blushes under the scrutinizing look the blonde gives her.

“One moment, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman says, her perfect brow arching slightly as she appraises Wanda one last time before turning her attention to the large iPad in her hands. She swipes a few times, a small smile gracing her features as she finds what she’s looking for.

“Ah, Ms. Bishop was expected, but I see that was changed last minute. Right this way, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman turns, walking confidently towards the elevators. “If you could sign this, please.”

The blonde hands Wanda the iPad, and she quickly signs her name. It looks illegible, and Wanda hopes her signature isn’t going anywhere except to the security office for verification. She fights the urge to fix her ponytail, her eyes landing on the blonde woman’s slicked-back hair tied high on her head. Maybe a quick tightening of her hair tie wouldn’t hurt.

“Press the button for floor twenty.” The woman turns, catching Wanda’s hands as they shoot down from adjusting her ponytail. A graceful smile spreads across her face, “Have a good interview.”

Wanda thanks her, accepting the badge the blonde hands her. It has the words VISITOR stamped across the surface. Awkwardly adjusting the badge until it’s pinned to her jacket, Wanda scoffs internally. As if anyone in this building didn’t already know she was only a visitor. She might as well write the word on her forehead to go along with her outdated shoes and slightly too-large jacket.

The elevator ride is quick, shooting up towards the twentieth floor smoothly. Wanda is greeted by the sight of yet another pristine, clean lobby. Another blonde woman sits behind a desk, quickly rising as Wanda steps out.

Running a hand over her hair, Wanda reaches into her bag. She’s never felt self-conscious about her hair before, but after seeing no less than five impeccably dressed blonde women, she can’t help but think she sticks out like a sore thumb.

Pulling out the recording device and the slightly crumpled stack of questions, Wanda curses herself for not researching Ms. Romanoff. The woman could be ninety years old for all she knew. She hadn’t searched up her name at all, and fights the urge to smooth down her shirt as she glances towards the receptionist.

The upcoming one-on-one interview looms in the front of her mind, nerves causing her fingers to systematically rub the pages in front of her. Wanda hated attention being focused on her, much preferring the anonymity of a group discussion or a crowded room. Sitting on hard white leather chairs and staring at the city skyline from a large floor-to-ceiling window was not something Wanda would consider as a happy place.

Wanda wonders if Ms. Romanoff insists on all her employees being blonde as yet another smartly dressed woman appears from around the corner. The blonde’s eyes glance towards her, doing a subtle double-take before smoothly stepping towards her.

“Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes,” Wanda hopes her voice isn’t trembling too badly.

“Ms. Romanoff will see you shortly, can I offer you a refreshment? Coffee, tea, water?”

“Water is fine, thanks.” Her throat is suddenly parched, and she takes the cup from the blonde woman gratefully.

“She will see you shortly.” The woman says, a small smile plastered on her face as she turns and walks towards the desk. She sits next to the other blonde woman, her attention focused on the computer before her. Wanda wonders if she should call them Thing One and Thing Two as the clacking of a keyboard fills the empty, sterile feeling space.

A door opens, a tall man stepping through as he chuckles at something. He bids a brief farewell, barely glancing at the blonde woman, who Wanda notices has jumped to their feet in his presence. They seem nervous, one woman ushering the man towards the elevator while the other hurriedly gestures for Wanda to stand.

“Ms. Romanoff will see you now,” she says and pushes Wanda towards the open door.

Wanda walks through the door, one hand gripping the recording device and the other holding the stack of papers close to her chest. She steps through the door, catching a glimpse of a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows, before she promptly trips.

Her palms catch her, the papers flying from her hands as the recording device clatters to the floor. Fuck. This was a terrible first introduction.

The sound of heels steadily approaching reaches Wanda’s ears, and she feels her face burning as she scrambles to pick up the items now strewn across a polished marble floor. Bracing herself, she manages to glance up.

“Ms. Bishop,” A long-fingered hand is extended. “I’m Natasha Romanoff, are you alright?”

Holy shit. Wanda finds herself speechless, her lips parted as her mouth hangs open slightly. She quickly gathers the rest of the papers, gratefully taking the cool hand with her own as she stands.

Ms. Romanoff is absolutely stunning. There are no words to describe her, and Wanda feels herself taking in the woman’s appearance. Long legs and a tight, black pencil skirt, an hourglass figure that means this woman spends countless hours in the gym, and a dark green button-up shirt with just enough buttons undone to show the barest curve of her chest. Blinking, Wanda feels herself flushing further, the sight of Ms. Romanoff’s rolled-up sleeves and bare forearms sending her head spiraling.

“I’m okay,” Wanda manages, feeling her breath catching. She finally manages to drag her eyes toward Ms. Romanoff’s face, finding the barest hint of a smirk and kind, vibrant green eyes. She’s mildly surprised to see dark red hair, and she suddenly doesn’t feel as out of place as she did before.

Looking down, Wanda startles at the sight of a hand still outstretched. She takes it, shaking firmly as a spark of something runs through her fingertips. It travels down her spine, filling her with warmth.

“Um, it’s actually Wanda,” she begins, flushing under the sharp eyes that remain locked with hers. “Um, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. Kate, I mean Ms. Bishop is sick so… here I am.” She concludes lamely, the barest hint of amusement in Ms. Romanoff's eyes.

The silence stretches, and Wanda finds herself speaking again. “I study English literature. With Kate, I mean um… Ms. Bishop. At school. Our school, Washington State. I hope you don’t mind that I’m here.”

“I don’t mind.” is all Natasha says, and she gestures towards a leather L-shaped couch. “Would you like to sit?”

This office is far too big for one person, a large desk near the center of the room. Wanda assumes it’s Ms. Romanoff’s. She walks towards the corner of the office, large glass windows extending around the couch and a few comfortable-looking chairs. There’s a dark mahogany desk, with enough chairs to seat a dozen people all around it. She wonders if Ms. Romanoff ever leaves this office, and takes in the minimalistic artwork hanging on the walls.

“The table was handmade by a local artist,” Ms. Romanoff says, her head tilting when Wanda looks back at her. She flushes, knowing that the woman had been watching her look around the room.

“It’s beautiful,” Wanda murmurs. “Seemingly ordinary resources crafted into something exquisite.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Natasha agrees, her voice low and sounding like melted butter. Wanda finds herself blushing at the sound.

Distractedly, Wanda sinks onto the couch as Ms. Romanoff gracefully sits on one of the black leather chairs across from her. Her fingers fumble, dropping the recording device onto the wood roughly. The blush must be semi-permanent at this point, spreading across her cheeks and over the tips of her ears as she turns the recording device on. Finding the first page of questions, Wanda realizes that she never read the questions in advance.

Off to a great start, then.

“I apologize,” Wanda lets a hand run along the side of her head, a ghost action of tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m not really used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“One-on-one interviews, they feel oddly intimate. I’m much more acquainted with blending into the wall in a crowd.”

“Take all the time you need,” Ms. Romanoff says, a small smile on her face. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Do you mind?” Wanda gestures towards the table, “I would like to record your answers for my roommate, I mean… Ms. Bishop.”

Ms. Romanoff smirks widely at that, amusement dancing on her flawless features. “You already started recording, now you’re asking for permission?”

Is she teasing? It sounds like she’s teasing, but Wanda is too flushed with embarrassment to really place the emotion behind Ms. Romanoff’s words. The woman takes pity on her.

“I don’t mind.”

“Did Kate, uh… Ms. Bishop explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes,” Natasha settles into her seat, a faint look of boredom overtaking her face. “This interview will be placed in the school newspaper as a feature article since I will be the featured speaker at this year's graduation ceremony.”

Oh. Kate had forgotten to mention that little detail. Wanda hoped the surprise at the news wasn’t showing on her face.

“Oh, good,” Wanda cleared her throat. “In that case, let’s begin.”

“Yes, let's.”

Is she… teasing? Again? Wanda feels as though she’s been thrust into an alternate dimension. She sits up straighter, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to look more confident than she is. Professional, that’s what Wanda is hoping to achieve.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an impressive empire.” The words feel almost monotone. Scripted. “To what do you owe your success?” Wanda glances up, and Natasha’s smile falls into a vague look of disappointment.

“In short, business is all about people. I excel at knowing what makes a person tick, and I am an excellent judge of character, Ms. Maximoff. I know how to inspire, and most importantly, how to incentivize.” Natasha’s dark green eyes lock with Wanda’s, pinning her to her seat. “I believe that I must know every detail in order to achieve success, knowledge is power after all. I make my decisions based on logic, not feelings. In short, I know people. I know how they tick, and I know how to inspire them.”

“Well,” Wanda flounders, the answer sounding rehearsed to her ears. God, this woman is arrogant. “Maybe you’re just lucky.”

A startled look flashes across Ms. Romanoff’s face, surprise appearing in her eyes momentarily before it’s brushed away. “I don’t believe in luck, Ms. Maximoff. I believe in my own abilities, and I believe in the team that surrounds me. I select only the best to work for this company, and that is the reason for my success.”

“You sound like someone who is obsessed with control,” the words escape Wanda’s mouth before she can restrain them.

“I exercise control in all things, Ms. Maximoff,” Natasha says, not a glimmer of humor in her words. Her steel gaze locks with Wanda’s, impassive as she watches Wanda flush again.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Natasha continues as if she never heard Wanda speak. “Immense power is only acquired by those who are convinced that they have the ability to control the things around them."

Immense power? Yeah, total control freak.

“So you believe that you have immense power?”

“I employ over fifty thousand people, Ms. Maximoff. I am responsible for all of them. This responsibility gives me a certain sense of power. If I decided that a department wasn’t needed one day, such as a social media section of my team, hundreds of people would struggle to find a replacement job. So yes, I have power.”

The complete lack of humility and apparent empathy causes Wanda’s mouth to open, her lips parted slightly in disbelief.

“Is there a board you answer to?”

“I own this company. I don’t answer to anyone.” Ms. Romanoff raises a single eyebrow.

Wanda feels herself flush yet again. If she had done any research, she's certain she would have known the answer to that question beforehand. She changes the topic.

“What are your interests outside of work?”

The sharp curve of Ms. Romanoff’s eyebrow suggests that she knows what Wanda is doing, but the woman answers the question gracefully.

“I have many varied interests outside of work,” Natasha’s tone is bordering on playful, the slight curve of her lips almost teasing.

“Well, what do you do to relax?” Wanda asks, rephrasing her question. For some reason, the previous answer sent a flush down her spine.

“Relax?” Ms. Romanoff sits back in her seat, the heat of her gaze never leaving Wanda’s. “I engage in multiple physical pursuits. I’m a wealthy woman, Ms. Maximoff, I never tire of looking for hobbies.”

Not knowing how to respond, Wanda glances at the next question.

“You invest in engineering, why?”

Ms. Romanoff’s response is quick and practiced. “I enjoy the creation of things. I like knowing how they work, what makes them tick. How to build and create. I enjoy the process of creating something, adjusting to flaws, and perfecting things.”

“That sounds awfully sentimental.”

“Does it?” That damned subtle smirk is back, and Wanda looks down at the page in front of her. “There are many who say I don’t have the heart for sentiments.”

That makes Wanda look up. There’s a curious expression on Ms. Romanoff’s face. It disappears before Wanda can decipher it.

“Would your friends say you don’t have a heart?” Fuck. That wasn’t on the list of questions. Kate is going to kill her.

“Why would you presume they say that?”

“I assume they know you well, and you’re easy to get to know…” Wanda responds, her heart thudding.

“Well,” Natasha leans forward slightly. “I’m a very private person, Ms. Maximoff. I go to great lengths to ensure my privacy is well maintained. There is a reason I don’t often give interviews.”

“Then why did you agree to this one?” The question escapes Wanda’s lips before she can stop it, her curiosity taking over.

Natasha leans back, crossing a leg delicately over the other. “I’m a generous benefactor to your University, and in all honesty, Ms. Bishop was extremely insistent. She was relentless in her communications with my PR and assistants, and I admire her motivation.”

Fully aware of how tenacious Kate could be, Wanda curses her out mentally. Instead of studying for her finals, she was sitting in this cold, expensive office and interviewing a successful, rich woman not much older than her.

Wanda glances at the next question.

“Do you have a philosophy you live by? If so, what is it?”

“It's not so much a philosophy as a guiding principle. As Carnegie said, ‘A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.’ I like control of myself and those around me.”

“You sound like the ultimate control freak.”

Ms. Romanoff smiles sharply, a dangerous look appearing in her eye. “I suppose I am.”

Swallowing, Wanda feels as though the woman seated across from her is talking about something else entirely. She can’t quite pinpoint what it is. It frustrates her to no end, but Wanda just shakes her head and continues with the questions written before her.

“You were adopted,” Wanda pauses, this information is a surprise to her. She risks a glance up. Ms. Romanoff’s face is impassive. “How do you think this shaped the person you are today?”

Biting her lip, Wanda hoped she didn’t cross any lines. Ms. Romanoff doesn’t seem to be offended, but her brows furrow slightly.

“I have no way of knowing, Ms. Maximoff. My adoptive family is all I’ve ever known.”

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

Natasha’s lips curl into a wry smile. “That is information available by public record.” Her tone is stern, her words sharp. Wanda immediately flushes, feeling like hitting her own forehead against a solid surface. Repeatedly.

If only she’d done some research ahead of time. Well, no time to dwell on the past. Wanda speaks quickly, suddenly wanting this interview to be over.

“Does your family life encroach on your work?”

“It does not.” Ms. Romanoff’s tone is flat and hard, her response quick.

Wanda feels red-hot embarrassment slink down her spine. She should have looked over these questions ahead of time. Curse her inability to think ahead. She barely glances at the next question before the words are spewing from her lips.

“Are you gay?”

Ms. Romanoff blinks. Wanda feels her eyes go wide, darting down to the paper in front of her. Why the fuck is that question in here? Why didn’t Kate warn her, or… matter of fact, why did Kate think that was an appropriate question to ask?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” Wanda trails off, her flush returning. “I didn’t know that was a question. You don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry. Let's move on.”

“I am.”

Wanda’s head shoots up so fast she strains a muscle. It shoots painfully down her neck, but the only thing she’s focused on is the dark green of Ms. Romanoff’s unwavering gaze.

“You didn’t write these questions.” It’s a statement, and Wanda finds herself nodding.

“Like I said before, my roommate was supposed to interview you today. These are her questions, for our school newspaper.” Wanda feels her fingers clenching the paper. She hopes she isn’t thrown out of the office. She couldn't bear the shame and judgemental looks the blonde assistants would surely send her way.

“Are you also a part of the school newspaper?”

“No, I-” Wanda falters, wincing at the dull tone in Ms. Romanoff’s words. “Kate asked me to come since I’m her roommate. She had no other options.”

“That explains a multitude of things,” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is quiet, her eyes boring into Wanda’s.

A soft knock sounds out, the door swinging open as blonde thing number one steps into the office. Wanda immediately resents her presence, a strange atmosphere encroaching on the space she was occupying.

“Your next meeting is in five minutes, Ms. Romanoff,” The assistant says, not sparing a glance towards Wanda.

“Cancel it, we’re not done here.”

Wanda looks up, her hands already preparing to sweep the recording device into her bag as she makes her escape. The assistant is gaping, her eyes flicking between Wanda and her boss. Natasha raises a single eyebrow, and the assistant bows her head slightly before leaving and gently shutting the door behind her.

“I hope I’m not taking up valuable time,” Wanda says, her hands still hovering over the recording device.

“You aren’t. Besides, I want to know about you.” Ms. Romanoff tilts her head slightly, her lips turning up slightly. “It’s only fair, after all.”

That damned flush makes itself known once again, traveling over Wanda’s cheeks and down her neck. She folds the corner of her paper, the crease sharp beneath her fingers and she bites her lip briefly.

“There’s not much to know, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Ms. Romanoff’s eyes are sharp, assessing. “What are your plans after graduation?”

Wanda recognizes the escape for what it is and seizes it wholeheartedly. “I don’t have any plans, I’m too focused on exams at the moment.”

“I see,” her voice is low, her posture relaxed, and her eyes piercing. Ms. Romanoff uncrosses her legs slowly, leaning forward slightly. “We offer an excellent internship program here.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Wanda smiles slightly. “I’m sure you do. Although, I’m not sure I'd fit in here.”

“No?” Her head tilts again, green eyes unwavering. Wanda feels trapped suddenly, the weight of the woman’s gaze pinning her to the couch. She lets out an uncomfortable cough.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The statement is evasive, but Ms. Romanoff answers without hesitation.

“Not to me, it isn’t.” Her gaze is heavy, eyes all-knowing and locked on Wanda. There’s a new sort of tension in the air, all traces of awkwardness gone and replaced with something heady. It’s making Wanda’s head spin, and she breaks eye contact with some effort. Reaching towards the table, she turns the recording device off, placing it gently into her bag.

The tension breaks, Ms. Romanoff standing slowly as Wanda shoves the papers into her bag.

“Would you like a tour?”

Wanda pauses, her hands stilling. Why is she asking that? Isn’t she the CEO of the company?

“I’m sure you have many other important things to attend to, Ms. Romanoff. Besides, I should get on the road before it starts raining too heavily.” Wanda glances out the window, taking in the dark clouds on the distant horizon.

“You’re driving back to campus today?” Ms. Romanoff sounds almost concerned. Wanda tries not to stare at her in shock, blinking quickly. The woman clears her throat, an authoritative tone taking over as she speaks. “Be careful.”

“I will. Thank you for the interview.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she says, polite and dismissive.

Wanda stands, closing her messenger bag. She takes in the woman in front of her, letting her eyes glance over the impeccable outfit the woman has put on. Truly, she should be taking notes on how to dress in a business formal manner, and she’s got the perfect model in front of her. Blinking that thought away, Wanda takes in the small smile creeping onto Ms. Romanoff’s face.

“Until we meet again, Ms. Maximoff,” she holds out her hand, gripping Wanda’s fingers in a gentle yet firm hold.

Will they meet again? Wanda can almost guarantee that they won’t, but something in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes tell her differently. She shakes it off, labeling it as nerves running rampant through her mind. Of course, they wouldn’t meet again. A classic case of a rich, hot CEO meeting a poor college student, their paths crossing once and never entangling again, akin to a set of perpendicular lines.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda nods slightly, letting the woman walk her to the door.

Opening it wide, the woman holds out a hand. A small smirk graces her features. “I am averse to my guests tripping more than once in my presence, and I’d like to ensure your safe journey from my building, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Well,” Wanda flounders for a moment. “That’s very considerate of you.”

At least someone is amused, Wanda thinks as she steps through the door. She considers shooting a victorious glance back at the woman, but decides that the action would be too childish.

Evidently, Ms. Romanoff doesn’t often escort her guests from her office, judging by the surprised looks the blonde assistants shoot their way. It all seems quite suffocating for a moment, and Wanda takes a deep breath.

A hand on her shoulder halts the escape she is about to make. The warmth from Ms. Romanoff’s firm fingertips sends something intoxicating through Wanda. She hopes the ensuing shiver isn’t too obvious.

“I have to swipe my card for the elevator to work on this floor,” Ms. Romanoff explains, pressing the down button.

Of course. That makes sense. Then why is her hand still resting on Wanda’s shoulder?

Almost as if she’s reading Wanda’s mind - or maybe her body language - Ms. Romanoff releases her hold. Her fingers linger briefly, tracing briefly over her arm as she fixes Wanda with a look.

The elevator doors open, and Wanda gratefully steps through. Turning, she sees Ms. Romanoff leaning casually against the wall. The sight is attractive, and Wanda finds her eyes lingering on the exposed forearms crossed in front of her body.

“Wanda,” the woman says, a goodbye, but without a note of finality.

“Natasha,” she replies.

The doors close.

Chapter Text

Wanda’s heart is racing, and she feels a sort of numbness spreading from where Ms. Romanoff’s hand had rested on her shoulder. It had only been there for a few moments, but it still felt like tingles of electricity were ricocheting around her body. The sight of a clean, marble lobby greeted her, and Wanda rushed from the elevator.

Outside, the rain had just started. It was a welcome relief from the hot, stifling air and accompanying stares from several, gorgeous blonde women. The cool, gentle drops of rain hitting Wanda’s face washed away the lingering feeling of wrongness, and all thoughts of not fitting in started to fade as she handed her valet ticket to a man dressed in a black uniform. He was impeccably dressed. Was that a standard at this company?

Natasha Romanoff. The name rolls around Wanda’s head, her silently forming the syllables. No woman had ever made her feel the way that Ms. Romanoff did. Wanda wondered what it was. Her stunning features, her tailored clothes, her wealth? Maybe it was her quick, well-thought-out responses and striking green eyes.

Barely registering the man pulling her car to the front of the building, Wanda spares one last glance at the building behind her before easing into Seattle traffic. She had 165 miles to drive, and plenty of time to think about the interview and those questions.

Kate’s questions.

Wanda was seriously considering murder, because, what the fuck? Asking her personal questions about her adoption? The cryptic responses she received about Ms. Romanoff’s hobbies? The whole ordeal felt like a fever dream. A sudden memory rose up, worming its way to the front of her mind.

“Oh my god,” Wanda said out loud, fighting the urge to slam her head into the steering wheel. “I asked her if she was gay, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Then, she remembered that Ms. Romanoff had responded with a simple ‘Yes, I am.’

She didn’t want to think about why her clothes felt too restrictive, too warm all of a sudden. Her fingers trembled slightly as she cranked the AC on, hitting the button for the radio. Anything to drown out the thoughts of penetrating green eyes looking at her, rooting her to her spot. The warmth of her hand, resting on her shoulder. A firm voice commanding her to be careful.

Her eyes drop to the speedometer. She’s driving much slower than usual. Wanda shakes her head, forcing her foot down on the gas pedal.

Best to just leave the whole thing in the past, Wanda tells herself, her eyes catching sight of her exit onto the freeway. She speeds up at the sight, a hint of rebelliousness rising within her as she sees the stretch of bare road in front of her.

There is no Ms. Romanoff and her commanding voice and sharp eyes here. She doesn’t have to ever see the woman and deal with the confusing feelings warring inside her ever again. Wanda can go as fast as she wants, and a slow smile spreads across her face. The speedometer doesn’t drop below 100 the rest of the drive home.

—

“Wanda you’re back!” Kate's voice rings out, sounding much healthier than it had been this morning.

Leaning against the doorway of their apartment, Wanda calls out a response. She shakes the lingering flashes of a large, glass building from her mind, kicking off her shoes near the doorway. She’ll pick them up later after she finishes berating Kate for her questions and avoiding any responses that don’t directly correlate to the interview.

She’s lucky to live with Kate. Her parents bought the apartment, and Wanda barely had to pay anything, much to her relief. Kate didn’t like the idea of taking much money from her roommate-turned-friend, and Wanda’s savings account was growing steadily as a result.

Walking through the doorway, Wanda finds Kate sitting upright for the first time in days, even if it is on the floor. She’s wearing purple pajamas with a dog face pattern and is surrounded by textbooks and random papers. Spotting an empty mug nearby, Wanda turns on the kettle to heat some water. She’s never needed hot tea more than at this moment.

“You’re back a little earlier than I expected,” Kate remarks, speaking quickly before Wanda can respond. “How was it, was she nice? I bet she is. What was she like? Did she answer all of my questions?”

“Woah, let me at least set your stuff down first,” Wanda responds, removing the recording device and stack of slightly crumpled questions from her bag. She sets them down on the coffee table in front of Kate and prepares a tea bag while her roommate excitedly runs her fingers over the buttons on the device.

“She was… intense.” That’s all that Wanda can say, and she responds to Kate’s raised eyebrows with a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, she was intimidating, well-dressed, and young. Like, only a little bit older than us young.”

Kate blinks, her expression clear. Wanda frowns.

“Don’t look at me like that, you didn’t give me a biography on her or anything. I went in completely blind, and she made me feel like some sort of idiot for not knowing basic facts about her.” Wanda removes the tea kettle when it starts to shriek. She carefully pours the hot water into her mug as Kate brings her hands to her mouth, her eyes round.

“Oh my God, I didn’t even think - I’m so sorry, Wanda.”

“It’s fine, you’re sick,” Wanda says, moving towards the floor and settling in next to Kate. “She was fine, really. But she spoke like she was in her forties or something. How old is she, anyway?”

“She’s twenty-six, again I’m so sorry. I should’ve briefed you or written a description or something,” Kate pauses, turning on the recording device. “I’ll start transcribing the interview, you asked all my questions, right?”

Wanda smiles into her cup, the ghost of a flush warming her cheeks. “Yes, I asked them. All of them.”

“Oh good, thank you again. I owe you big time!”

And truly, looking into Kate’s earnest, wide eyes, Wanda can’t find it in herself to be annoyed anymore. It’s in the past, now. Her gaze lands on the textbook still lying open on the counter. Fuck, with all the driving and panic and interview stuff, she’d nearly forgotten about finals.

Well, no time like the present.

—

Muffled sounds of music escape from Kate’s headphones, and Wanda gives up on trying to concentrate. Blinking blearily at the clock, she rubs her eyes as she realizes that three hours have passed. Slowly closing her textbook, Wanda stands and stretches out the numerous knots forming around her shoulders and neck. She grabs her mug, the last remnants of tea cold and unappealing as she brings it over to the sink.

“You got some great material, Wanda,” Kate says, pausing her music and pulling her headphones down to rest around her neck. She’s recently taken a shower, her hair still slightly damp as it leaves wet patches against her shirt. “I can’t believe you didn’t let her show you around, she was practically begging you to let her.”

Wanda scoffs. Natasha Romanoff begging? In what world? She had only been in the woman’s presence for around half an hour, and she already knew that woman would never beg. Besides, there’s no way a woman like Ms. Romanoff would willingly want to spend more time with her. Would she?

“I understand what you mean when you said she was intense,” Kate continues, oblivious to Wanda’s inner turmoil. “You didn’t write any notes?”

“No I didn’t,” Wanda turned on the sink, rinsing her mug.

“That’s okay, I can work with the recording. It’s too bad we don’t have any original pictures, she’s really good-looking too. That’s always a plus.”

Wanda feels a flush spread over her cheeks. Fuck.

“Sure.” She hopes her tone is nonchalant. Kate doesn’t react, and Wanda scrubs her mug a little harder than necessary. She gives her Scrub Daddy sponge a silent apology.

“Oh, be so for real, Wanda,” Kate says, turning towards her. She has no chance of hiding, her cheeks pink. “We both know that you like older women, you couldn’t possibly be unaware of her sex appeal.”

Wanda feels trapped. She decides on misdirection.

“I’m sure you could have gotten way more information out of her. You’re a journalism student, not me.”

“I doubt that, she basically offered you a job on the spot. Did you hear her talk about the internship or were you too busy drooling and imagining her fucki-”

“Oh my fucking god!” Wanda practically shouts, finally turning towards Kate. Her roommate has a wide smirk on her face, her eyes roaming over Wanda’s red face.

“Fine,” Kate drawls, her eyes bright and knowing. “What did you really think of her, then?”

Wanda lets out a breath, setting her mug in the dishwasher and turning towards Kate. She leans against the counter, thinking. “She’s driven and controlling, almost scary, but extremely well-spoken. She was… fascinating.”

“You sound like a psychology major,” Kate teases, laughing slightly at Wanda’s eye roll. She continues, “She seemed to like you quite a lot, wanna sandwich?”

Her words wrap around Wanda’s brain, her heartbeat quickening as she processes. Ms. Romanoff liking her? Maybe, but not in the way Wanda would want her to. She turns her face again, busying herself with the dishes left in the sink, avoiding eye contact as she tells Kate that yes, she would love a sandwich.

Wanda’s thoughts turn back towards her finals, her eyes wandering over to her textbooks near the couch. She should really stop thinking about Ms. Romanoff. Besides, she’s never going to see the young millionaire again.

That night, Wanda dreams of dark red hair, cold marble floors, and piercing green eyes.

—

For the remainder of the week, Wanda focuses only on studying for her finals, and her job. She was fortunate enough to pick up some extra shifts, her manager not questioning her sudden need for extra hours. If she needed to be away from her textbooks and thoughts of Ms. Romanoff, that was her own business.

Wanda didn’t mind working at a hardware store, but she’d be lying if she said it was her first choice. That being said, the only reason she stayed was because of the flexible hours and good management. Her boss, Carol, was hard at times but knew how to have fun and always had her employees’ back.

The bright yellow stickers she was putting on various items glared up at her, Wnada’s attention returning to the task at hand. Her job was monotonous at times, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to think about classes, or the finals she was preparing for, or long legs and sharp cheekbones and dark red hair…

Giving herself a little shake, Wanda removes a sticker from its roll. Placing it on a roll of duct tape, she glances over towards the textbook she’d brought with her. What was it that she was studying? Oh, right. Something about Sylvia Plath and…

She glanced towards the clock and sighed. Four more hours and then she could leave and finally start the essay she’d been dreading.

The bell rang, signaling a new customer. Wanda returned to her task. Valkyrie was in charge of greeting new customers, so she paid no mind to the stranger entering the store.

“Ms. Maximoff, what a pleasant surprise.”

Wanda’s head shot up, her eyes finding dark green immediately. Ms. Romanoff, in her store. Her eyes traveled down the woman’s body of their own accord, taking in the well-tailored pants and shirt, casual enough to go shopping but still screaming of wealth.

Looking around, Wanda didn’t see anybody else in sight. Damn, Valkyrie must have slipped into the back office to talk - flirt more like - with Carol. She was on her own.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda says, her voice barely above a whisper. She can feel her cheeks heating up, her voice low and bordering on the edge of confusion. Why was she here? The woman didn’t belong in a small town like this, shopping at a hardware store of all places.

“I was in the area for business,” Ms. Romanoff states, as if that answers all the questions Wanda could possibly have. Her green eyes are boring into Wanda’s, her attention focused solely on her.

Wanda can feel her heartbeat racing, pounding in her chest as she tries to think of something clever to say. Hell, she’d even settle for something coherent at this point. Anything to stop her from gaping in surprise at the woman currently standing two feet in front of her.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda chokes out, meaning to say something more. Nothing comes out, her mouth snapping shut of its own accord, too stunned to continue.

“It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Maximoff,” she says, her eyes still boring into Wanda’s. “I need a few things.”

“Wanda, just… call me Wanda.”

Ms. Romanoff smiles, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she continues to intensely stare at Wanda. Her smile seems victorious, like she’s just learned some big secret. It throws Wanda off for a moment, but she shakes the feeling and puts on her own smile.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Only a few items, the first being cable ties,” she says, her voice low. Her eyes are sparkling slightly, like she’s amused. Wanda notices that the woman doesn’t offer her own first name in return, and blinks as she processes the words.

Who the fuck buys cable ties? What would fancy-pants-rich-ass Ms. Romanoff possibly need cable ties for?

“Right this way, we have multiple lengths.”

Professional, Wanda can do that. She attempts nonchalance, her attention focused solely on not tripping over her own two feet. Her cool facade is shattered the moment Ms. Romanoff steps next to her, the woman’s perfume wafting deliciously under her nose. Cinnamon.

Wanda is surprised at the bold choice, but after a few more seconds of not-so-subtly sniffing the air, she decides that the perfume is growing on her rather quickly. It would probably smell even better if Wanda was able to press her nose directly against the woman’s warm, soft neck and-

“So what type of business do you have in this area?” The words come rushing out, and Wanda winces at her abruptness.

Ms. Romanoff doesn’t seem fazed, her amused expression only growing stronger as she turns her head. Her green eyes find Wanda’s, and she smirks slightly. “I was visiting one of the research facilities in the area. I’m funding a project of theirs in relation to renewable wind energy and advancing it to create a sustainable solution in the future.”

Her voice is soft yet strong, a slight rasp that makes Wanda want to melt into the floor. A small part of her brain reminds her that the woman is only here for work, not because she somehow knew that Wanda would be working. It was just a pleasant coincidence.

“That’s admirable,” Wanda says as looks up. Fuck, those green eyes are still looking at her. Those lips are turned up in a half smile, just a hint of something pink on them. Wanda realizes she’s been staring for too long when those lips turn up even further, and she quickly looks away. Luckily, they’ve ended up at the cable ties, Ms. Romanoff’s long fingers trailing over a few different lengths before selecting a few.

“Anything else?” Wanda can barely hear herself, the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears making it impossible to focus.

“Masking tape, please.”

“Are you decorating something?” The question slips out before Wanda can stop it. Ms. Romanoff’s eyes crinkle again at the edges, amusement rolling off her in waves.

“No, I’m not,” she says, her head tilting as Wanda leads her toward the tape section of the store. “Have you worked here for a while?”

The question throws Wanda off, her head whipping towards the woman on her right. She's close, so close that their shoulders brush slightly as Wanda finds her balance. Her eyes seem darker than before, brows furrowed slightly as she waits for an answer.

Right, an answer.

“Oh, yes. Four years,” Wanda says distractedly, practically shoving a few rolls of masking tape toward Ms. Romanoff. The woman was distracting, and Wanda couldn’t concentrate. All the thoughts she’d tried to suppress came rushing back to the surface.

Dark red hair, falling over a strong shoulder, exposed forearms, and rolled sleeves of tight material stretching over muscles. Green eyes, piercing as they look at Wanda.

Fuck. Wanda cleared her throat. “Anything else?”

“Rope, if you have any.” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, her voice still low. Her attention is focused solely on Wanda, the masking tape and cable ties held loosely between her fingers.

“Ah, right this way,” Wanda says, her voice huskier than usual. She clears her throat again, speaking to fill the weird tension going on. “What type of rope are you looking for?”

“Anything soft, but strong will do. Five yards should be enough. Red, if you have it.”

Wanda feels her fingers trembling, her mind replaying those words as she measures out the exact length of rope. Fuck, why did Ms. Romanoff use such a low tone when speaking? She can feel the woman’s hot gaze on her, the back of her neck heating up as she cuts the rope. Quickly, her movements confident despite the slight tremors running through her body, Wanda manages to coil up the rope and ties a quick-release knot around the center to hold it in place.

“Were you a Girl Scout?” Her lips are turned up, but those green eyes show genuine interest.

“Camping in the woods isn’t really my thing, Ms. Romanoff.”

She arches a single brow, the sight sending heat coursing through Wanda and coiling in her stomach.

“Then what is your… thing, Wanda?”

Oh, her name falling from those sultry lips. Fuck, this woman was sending her already-tired brain reeling. The woman’s head is tilted slightly, her eyes searching Wanda’s like she was looking for the last piece of a complicated jigsaw puzzle.

“Well, I like books. I mean, reading. Reading books.” Wanda cursed herself, the jumbled sentences seeming to echo around the aisle.

“What genre?” Ms. Romanoff said, her eyes more curious than piercing. Wanda wondered why she was asking. Surely she didn’t actually care, she was most likely just looking to make small talk. But then again, the way her eyes were locked on Wanda’s told an entirely different story.

“Classics and feminist literature, mainly.”

Ms. Romanoff hummed thoughtfully in response, nodding slightly. Her eyes soften slightly, almost too subtle for Wanda to catch it. She didn’t want to think about what that meant, and quickly tried to think of something else to say. She draws a blank, her heart racing slightly as she slowly walks back towards the register, Ms. Romanoff beside her.

“How is the article coming along?”

Finally, something she could talk about. A safe topic.

“I’m not writing it. My roommate, Kate, is. She’s truly phenomenal, her articles are always very well-written. She’s also the editor for the magazine, so she’s really thrilled that you were able to do any interview, even if she couldn’t be there herself.” Wanda pauses to take a breath, a small detail coming to mind. “The only thing she’s concerned about is the lack of original photos to compliment your interview.”

One of those perfect eyebrows arches again.

“What sort of photos does she want?”

“I- well. I’m not sure, I didn’t really ask…” Wanda says, flustered. She hadn’t anticipated that response.

“I’m around tomorrow, if that works.”

“You,” Wanda chokes on air. Ms. Romanoff’s lips turn up into a small smile, and she feels the blush returning full force. “You would go to a private photoshoot? Kate’s going to be so happy, holy shit.”

Before thinking, Wanda smiles widely at Ms. Romanoff, her happiness shining through.

The redhead blinks slightly, and Wanda hears a sharp inhale of breath. The woman’s lips are parted slightly, her eyes locked on Wanda’s face and roaming around her features, landing on her smile, eyes, and her cheekbones before she seems to pull herself together.

Wanda immediately wants to catch the woman off guard again. Her face was so… soft. The genuine emotion was fleeting, but Wanda saw it and found herself craving more.

“I would be delighted, here,” Ms. Romanoff says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a business card. Her fingers touch Wanda’s as she hands it over, and Wanda starles slightly at the cool tingles that spread throughout her hand at the contact.

“It has my name, number, and email on the back. You’ll have to call or text before nine in the morning.”

Holy shit. She just gave Wanda her number. This insanely beautiful, well-spoken millionaire just gave Wanda her fucking number. She didn’t know what to do, so she ended up just staring at the woman while her lips parted briefly in an effort to say something.

Ms. Romanoff gives her a knowing look. “For the photo shoot.”

Right. The photo shoot. She feels herself flush as the amusement on Ms. Romanoff’s face mixes with something else that Wanda can’t quite identify.

“Sounds good,” She murmurs, looking up and smiling at the woman again.

“Wanda!”

Carol appears from the back of the store, her voice carrying over the shelves as she makes her way towards the front of the store. Her voice is bright, her lips already turned into an infectious smile as she rounds the corner.

Out of the corner of her eye, Wanda notices the way Ms. Romanoff goes stiff. Any trace of amusement is wiped from her face, her lips no longer quirked up in that secret smile Wanda receives.

“Oh, excuse me! I didn’t realize there was a customer here,” Carol says, her smile not faltering even as the redhead frowns at her. She’s rounded the register, her hand casually resting on her arm as she asks Ms. Romanoff if she’s been finding everything all right.

“Wanda has been very attentive,” she says, and Wanda snaps back into the conversation, noting the way Ms. Romanoff’s eyes linger around Carol’s hand resting on her arm. She loves her manager, truly, but her over-familiarity was leaving the wrong impression.

“Carol has been here ever since I started working my freshman year,” Wanda begins, her heart stuttering when Ms. Romanoff snaps her gaze towards her. “She and her wife throw really great Christmas parties.”

That statement causes Carol to smile and start babbling about how hard her wife, Valkyrie, works to make sure their infamous Christmas party is successful. Wanda listens politely, stealing glances at Ms. Romanoff.

Her posture is relaxed, her fingers playing with the end of the red rope Wanda had cut for her. There’s a small smile playing on her lips in an almost endearing way as she listens to Carol ramble. The stony expression she was wearing mere seconds ago is nowhere to be found, and Wanda hopes she’s right about what that could mean.

Ms. Romanoff… jealous? No, possessive maybe? Fuck, that sounds hot. Wanda feels like banging her head against the cash register.

“Anyways,” Carol says, seeming to realize how long she’s spent talking. “I won’t keep you waiting, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do while you’re visiting! Is there anything else we can help you find today?”

“No, Wanda helped me find everything I need.” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes flitting over to the younger woman.

It sounds like there’s a double meaning to those words, but she can’t quite wrap her head around the potential secret meaning. Wanda chooses to simply smile at her, watching as the woman’s dark green eyes sparkle at the sight.

“Well, I’ll be in the back if you need anything. Nice to meet you, and have a good rest of your day!” Carol says, her smile wide as Ms. Romanoff nods at her. She practically skips towards the back office, leaving Wanda and the redhead alone with a weird, charged tension now coursing between them.

Wanda swallows, steadying herself as she scans the items Ms. Romanoff has placed down on the counter. “Would you like a bag?”

“Please, Wanda.”

Her name rolls off the woman’s lips with the grace of an expensive, aged wine. The sound of it sends something heady and warm traveling down Wanda’s spine. She runs her tongue briefly over her lips, biting down on her bottom lip as she rings up the items and places them in a paper bag.

Looking up, Wanda catches Ms. Romanoff’s eyes staring at her lips. The woman glances towards her eyes, before smirking as she hands Wanda a heavy, black credit card.

“For the record,” she says, leaning in slightly as Wanda swipes the card. She still smells like cinnamon. It’s fucking intoxicating, and Wanda resists the urge to breathe in deeply.

“As impressive as Ms. Bishop sounds, I’m glad that you were the one to interview me,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs. Her green eyes are darker, somehow. Her voice is slightly raspy, and it sends tingles down Wanda’s spine. “Remember, call or text before nine in the morning if you’d like to do the photo shoot.”

In the span of a few seconds, Ms. Romanoff straightened her back and casually grabbed the paper bag of supplies. Her tone is all business and Wanda blinks as she processes. God, it feels like she just got whiplash.

“I hope to see you again, preferably tomorrow. You have my card,” she says, and smiles at Wanda. It's wider than the previous ones, the barest hint of white teeth showing through her lips. The sight of it causes yet another flush to rise to Wanda’s cheeks, and she wonders if she’ll ever stop blushing around the older woman.

Ms. Romanoff gives her one last look, her eyes flitting down towards Wanda’s lips briefly before she turns towards the door and confidently strides towards the exit. Wanda lets her eyes linger on the way the older woman’s hips sway with each step, her bottom lip trapped tightly between her teeth.

Fuck. Now she has to organize a whole photo shoot. Kate’s going to be thrilled, and Wanda is going to blush and stutter through the whole event.

She sighs, and pulls out her phone to text Kate. She can do this, all she has to do is admire Ms. Romanoff from afar and remind herself that the woman’s presence in her town was simply a coincidence. Perfect, that’s a good plan.

Then, Wanda’s brain helpfully reminds her of the way Ms. Romanoff’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her, and the way her lips quirked up slightly whenever she spoke. Wanda groaned, hitting send on her text to Kate and dropping her head into her hands.

Why did Ms. Romanoff have to be so fucking attractive?

Chapter Text

Kate is elated.

She’s almost too excited. Wanda finds it suspicious, and narrows her eyes as her roommate starts speaking quickly, her voice high and her words stumbling against each other in her haste to speak.

“What was she doing in town? Wait, never mind I don’t really care. She totally came to see you!” Her excited voice blares through the speakers on Wanda’s phone.

Wanda is in the stock room while Carol is in charge of the front of the store, attempting to count inventory while her mind replays every second of Ms. Romanoff’s visit an hour ago. She had shot off a quick text to Kate, asking if she’d like a personal photoshoot with the CEO, and her roommate had immediately called her, burning with questions.

“I mean, no fucking way it was just a coincidence that she happened to stop by the only store in town that you work in. You don’t think that was on purpose?”

“She said she was visiting some department for research,” Wanda says, setting the pen down on her clipboard as Kate clucks her tongue on the other end of the line. She didn’t know why her heart sank slightly at the thought, cursing her excitement at the prospect of Ms. Romanoff purposely coming into town to see her.

“Oh, that’s right. She’s giving the renewable energy research facility a 3 million dollar grant.” Kate’s voice cracks over the speaker slightly, and Wanda feels her eyes go wide.

“How do you know that?”

“Dude, my job is literally chief editor for the University newspaper, keep up.”

“Oh,” Wanda shakes her head. That makes sense. She must be really out of it, distracted by Ms. Romanoff’s impromptu shopping trip. She changes the subject. “So do you want the photos of her then?”

Kate’s high-pitched screech sounds out, and Wanda jerks the phone away from her ear as the sound reverberates in her eardrum. She winces, making out the words Kate is yelling.

“Of fucking course I want the photos. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Wands!! Ms. Romanoff never lets anyone take photos of her, and this would be a private photoshoot. We could have hundreds of personalized photos of her, do you know how rare that is?”

“Okay, okay,” Wanda laughs, hearing Kate’s harsh breathing sound out as she catches her breath. “We just have to figure out who is going to take them, and where.”

“Where do you think Ms. Romanoff would want to do the photoshoot? Like, will she judge us if it’s in some warehouse?” Kate asks, her voice starting to get more high-pitched.

Wanda knows what that means. Her roommate is overthinking, and her hands are probably shaking as her mind runs a mile a minute.

“We can ask her about a location, since she’s staying in the area.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and she hears Kate’s breathing calm slightly. It’s a start.

“How would we ask her?”

“Well,” Wanda starts, hesitating slightly. She hears Kate moving around, probably busying herself with cleaning to release some anxiety over the situation. “I can just… text her and ask?”

“She gave you her number?” Kate’s voice is incredulous and bordering on hysterical. “The most elusive, most desired, hottest, eligible single woman in Seattle gave you her fucking number?”

“Um… yes.”

“Oh my god, Wanda. She’s totally into you, anybody can see it.”

“Kate, no,” Wanda protests, “She was just trying to be nice.”

As she says the words, Wanda knows that they’re false. Ms. Romanoff being nice? To some random girl who tripped through her multi-million dollar quartz doorway? Absolutely not. There had to be a reason why she was giving Wanda so much attention. Her heart stutters, filling with happiness at the thought.

“We can ask Vision to take the photos, he’d do just about anything for you.” Kate’s voice grounds her to the present moment.

Wanda feels her body shudder. She didn’t really have anything against the tall, nerdy blonde. He was nice, and in a few of her classes with her. But, he would always stand too close to her or would find any excuse he could to talk with her. His interest in her was noticeable and no matter how many times Wanda had hinted at her sexuality, he just didn’t seem to understand her disinterest in him.

Honestly, she was one creepy, lingering look away from making a giant banner with the words, ‘I’m a lesbian!’ painted across it in pink glitter.

Still, she had to admit that he was talented with a camera.

“Fine, I’ll call him. I think you should call Ms. Romanoff. After all, it’s your article.”

“No way, you’re the one she wants.”

Wanda blinked at that, letting the thought warm her for a moment. Then, she shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous, I barely know her.”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who’s met her. And you’re the one she’s purposely sought out, so you’re calling her. Don’t argue with me on this.” Kate’s voice is firm, the click of her hanging up the phone surprising Wanda.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda pulled out the business card Ms. Romanoff had given her. Her eyes traced over the curves of the woman’s name, memorizing the phone number on the back as she felt herself start to smile. God, she felt almost giddy. It felt like she was back in high school, with a crush on a cheerleader who’d smiled at her in the hallways.

“So, how do you know her?” Carol’s voice sounded out, her tone suggesting that she was attempting to be nonchalant. It wasn’t working very well.

Wanda jumped, her heart rate spiking as she guiltily slipped the business card back into her pocket. Turning, she saw Carol setting down a box before the woman turned to her with curious eyes. She didn’t have to ask who Carol was referring to.

“I had to interview her for Kate’s newspaper,” Wanda says, and her casual tone sounds just as forced as Carol’s. “She was sick so I went for her.”

“Impressive,” Carol muses, lingering in the doorway. “I can’t believe Natasha Romanoff was in my store. Valkyrie is going to be insanely jealous.”

She smiles widely at the thought, before seeming to remember where she was. “Listen, a few customers came in, so I could really use your help out there.”

“Right,” Wanda says, picking up her inventory clipboard. “I’ll be out soon, give me two minutes.”

She can practically feel the burning weight of Ms. Romanoff’s card in her pocket, and takes a deep breath. Maybe she can recite some poetry in her head to get rid of the ever-present replays of their meeting from earlier that day. Looking at the clock, Wanda despairs slightly.

Only three more hours of her shift, then she can go home and study without thinking about the redhead at all. Not even a little bit.

—

“Wanda, you know my style,” Vision’s voice crackles slightly over the speaker, a whining sort of quality to his tone. Kate rolls her eyes from where she’s listening in on the conversation. “I only shoot places, not people.”

“Oh my god dude,” Kate says, ripping the phone from Wanda’s hands. She gladly lets her roommate take control of the situation, her stomach churning with every word that Visions speaks. “If you don’t do this for us, the newspaper won’t cover the opening of your show. Do you understand now?”

There's a beat, a moment of silence that stretches too long to be comfortable. Vision speaks, “Fine. Send me the details once you have them and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Kate says, and hangs up the phone before Vision can say anything else. “Your turn, call Ms. Romanoff.”

Wanda blinks, still processing the conversation with Vision.

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. If I don’t sit here with you, you’ll never call. I know what you’re like with making phone calls. I’ll even hold your hand if you want,” Kate says, reaching across the couch with exaggerated grabby hands as Wanda chuckles and slaps her fingers lightly.

Taking out the card, Wanda traces the familiar shape of Ms. Romanoff’s name before dialing the number from memory. It wasn’t that hard to remember, especially since she’d been repeating it subconsciously in her head for the past few hours. Her stomach twists, doing a funny sort of fluttery motion as the dial tone rings.

She answers on the second ring, her voice clipped and calm. It’s slightly raspy, and Wanda feels her chest grow warm.

“Romanoff.”

“Oh, um… Ms. Romanoff? This is Wanda. Uh, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. You gave me your card earlier?”

“That I did,” she says, and Wanda can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s good to hear from you, Ms. Maximoff.”

Her tone has changed, warmth flowing through the phone. She sounds pleased and almost surprised. Wanda is acutely aware of the way her face is slowly flushing with each low, raspy word Ms. Romanoff speaks. Kate watches, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Wanda’s pink cheeks.

Standing, Wanda waves her hands in Kate’s direction in an unspoken order to ‘fuck off’, before making her way towards the kitchen for some fresh air. They’d propped the window open earlier, and Wanda eagerly breathes in the smell of freshly fallen leaves as she scrambles for something to say.

“We found a photographer,” she blurts out, before smacking a hand against her forehead. “For the photoshoot tomorrow. That is, if you still want to do a photoshoot. I didn’t mean to assume. Does that work for you, ma’am?”

Wanda can feel herself cringe slightly as the words spew from her traitorous mouth.

“Ma’am? That’s new… I’m staying at the Hilton in town, does 9:30 work?” Ms. Romanoff asks, and Wanda can hear the amusement in each syllable. The woman’s slow smile practically seeps through the phone, and Wanda pushes down the giddy feeling erupting within her.

“Yes, of course,” she feigns nonchalance, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “We’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it, Ms. Maximoff,” she says, and Wanda can visualize the way her dark green eyes are glinting. She envisions the corners of her mouth turning up into that secret smile she had given Wanda earlier, and shakes her head quickly, returning to the present moment.

“So do I,” Wanda manages to say, before she quickly hangs up the phone, practically slamming it down on the counter and staring at the screen like she’s expecting the circuits to light on fire.

“Wow,” Kate’s voice sounds out, her tone a slow drawl. “You’re totally blushing, dude. Admit it, you like her.”

Whirling around, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. She stutters, the words of denial fading quickly as she registers the way her heart is beating quickly and the excitement and butterflies building within her at the prospect of seeing Ms. Romanoff the next morning.

Well, fuck.

“Oh, come on. She has a million other things to worry about. She’s not focused on some college student who interviewed her. And it’s not a crush… I just find her intimidating.” Wanda can’t tell if she’s trying to convince Kate or herself, and based on the way her roommate raises her eyebrows, she’s not easily swayed.

“Sure,” Katre says, her gaze pointedly glancing towards Wanda’s reddening cheeks. “I’ll arrange the photoshoot and give my manager a call.”

“I’ll make us supper, how does spaghetti sound?” Wanda asks, jumping at the opportunity for a subject change. Kate agrees, her knowing gaze telling Wanda that she’s aware of her tactic, but thankfully her roommate drops the subject.

That night, Wanda dreams of cinnamon and dark red hair, the weight of warm fingers against her skin, and a raspy voice echoing around her. She wakes up twice, burying her head in the pillow as she scolds her overactive brain for thinking too much.

She just has to get through this photoshoot, then she can bury the thoughts of Natasha Romanoff somewhere deep inside her brain.

—

The Hilton stands out among the other buildings, the white-washed stone a beacon of wealth. Wanda tries her best to not raise her eyebrows too far, but Kate doesn’t seem to care as she cranes her neck to look up at the building. The boys in the back, Vision and Paul, seem interested as well, and Vision winces as Paul leans over him to press his face against the window.

“Damn, so she’s like really fucking rich, huh?” Paul asks, and Wanda internally scoffs.

She’d looked up Ms. Romanoff’s net worth the night before, her eyes wide and her ice cream forgotten and melting in her bowl as she stared at the numbers on her screen. She’d found herself in a rabbit hole of research, if that’s what you could call it. She mostly just looked up any information she could find about the woman, her public records limited and her photos mainly sourced from various exclusive interviews.

“Yeah,” Wanda muttered, “I guess so.”

Kate had managed to book a room in the Hilton, typically used for receptions. She’d struggled for a while, her call being transferred to various departments until she’d finally uttered the name Romanoff. After that, it was easy to book a room, free of charge.

When they arrive, a nervous, young-looking man guides them towards the room. Vision lags behind, carrying his camera and equipment. Wanda pays him no mind, aside from the occasional forced smile in his direction. He’d been trying to talk to her in the car and not-so-subtly imply that they should go out on a date, but luckily Kate and Paul had redirected the conversation to much safer topics.

The nervous man opens the doors to their rented room, Kate’s casual confidence shining as she directs Vision and Paul toward the back wall. They have about twenty minutes left to set up, and Wanda eagerly accepts Kate’s order to ask the hotel management for refreshments.

Setting up the finger sandwiches and water cups is easy, and Wanda finds herself relaxing at the monotonous act as she watches the minute hand on the clock creep closer to 9:30. She stiffens when the scent of cheap aftershave reaches her nose, Vision’s lanky frame filling her vision as he leans against the refreshment table.

“So, you went and interviewed this woman,” he says, leaning in. “Is it true that she’s really a lesbian?”

Furrowing her brows, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. To say.. something clever. Vision beats her to it, his eyes glancing down at her chest too many times to be a mistake. “I bet she hooks up with some really hot women, I wish I could photograph that instead.”

“Oh, maybe we shouldn’t talk about her private life-”

“Also, I was wondering…” Vision cuts her off before he straightens, his eyes glancing over Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda senses Ms. Romanoff’s presence before she sees or hears the woman. She watches Kate’s eyes go wide, her eyes flicking over to her as excitement fills her features. Turning slowly, Wanda nearly chokes on her own saliva as she takes in the woman before her.

Ms. Romanoff is dressed in the most expensive-looking clothing Wanda has ever seen in person. Her cream-colored dress pants hug her in all the right places, and Wanda has to wrench her gaze upwards before she’s caught staring for too long. The white, silk shirt isn’t much better for her steadily-increasing inappropriate thoughts. Wanda blushes when Ms, Romanoff turns, the light catching her shirt just right to show the abdominal muscles flexing through the thin fabric.

Forcing her eyes further up, Wanda feels a shiver run through her at the look in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes. At first glance, her dark-green gaze looks to be impassive, cold even. But Wanda notices the way her eyes are slightly crinkled in the corners, a private smile meant only for her. The woman’s eyes darken slightly and flicker down towards Wanda’s outfit, lingering just a half-second too long at her chest. She doesn’t mind, Ms. Romanoff’s gaze is comforting rather than off-putting.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Kate says, and Wanda immediately feels the loss of her heady gaze on her. “So lovely to finally meet you, I’m Kate Bishop.”

She holds her hand out, and Ms. Romanoff shakes it. It seems firm, and Wanda finds herself wishing that she could feel the woman's soft skin against her own. She wonders if her handshake is firm, and looks down at the floor as a hot, jealous feeling arises within her as Kate starts directing the woman towards the backdrop Vision and Paul had set up.

Vision starts to say something, his fingers uselessly gesturing toward a spot against the backdrop. Ms. Romanoff ignores his stammering request, focusing on Kate as she directs the woman into position. Dark green eyes flicker towards Wanda, a sort of curiosity in them.

“Wanda,” she says, a single finger beckoning her closer. “What do you think?”

“Oh, um. About the poses?” Wanda asks, the woman’s hot gaze trapping her in place. She feels her feet start moving towards the backdrop, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she feels her heart begin to race.

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff replies, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You're the only one here who's spoken to me before. So, you know me best. What pose do you think would capture me?”

Wanda blinks, her mind blanking. She remembers the way Ms. Romanoff had leaned forward during her interview, her forearms exposed from her rolled-up sleeves as she regarded Wanda with intent eyes.

“Roll up your sleeves,” Wanda says without thinking, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks at Ms. Romanoff’s amused, raised eyebrow. Kate glances back at her, a slightly proud smirk playing out on her lips before she turns back towards the CEO.

Maintaining eye contact, Ms. Romanoff slowly unbuttons her sleeves, rolling them up with precision that speaks to years of practice. Her gaze is heavy, and Wanda feels the air around her grow hot as her heart rate picks up to a dangerous speed.

“Anything else?”

Goddammit. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is low, her slight rasp sending Wanda’s mind spiraling into an unknown, fuzzy headspace. She suddenly has the urge to step closer to the woman, needing to be in her space.

Oh, those hands. Those fucking hands. Wanda watches the woman finish rolling up her sleeves, those hands resting casually over her knees with her fingers curled slightly. There are gold bracelets and fingers decorating the woman’s wrists and fingers, and Wanda has a sudden vision of Ms. Romanoff slowly taking all of her jewelry off. She’s well aware of the other three people in the room, one of them her roommate and the other a boy who is borderline obsessed with her. She doesn’t really care. Not when Ms. Romanoff’s attention is fully on her.

“Lean forward,” Wanda says, biting her bottom lip. Green eyes track the movement, darkening slightly. “Lean on your elbows and look at the camera through your eyebrows. Then slowly tilt your head up until you’re looking dead set at the camera. Give us the barest hint of a smile.”

She turns to Vision, her eyes lighting up in excitement as he starts fiddling with the setting on his camera. “Make sure you get plenty of pictures as she’s slowly tilting her head up. This way, we get plenty of different expressions and angles.”

Vision nods, smiling at her. Wanda shudders, his blinding teeth throwing her off.

Looking back at Ms. Romanoff, Wanda takes in the woman’s furrowed brows as those captivating green eyes glance between her and Vision. She suddenly has the urge to distance herself further from Vision, and steps closer to Kate.

“Perfect,” Kate says, clapping her hands once. Wanda fights the urge to jerk at the abrupt sound. Paul startles, dropping one of the finger sandwiches.

Vision takes several photographs, the click of the shutter sounding out as Wanda watches the woman intently. Ms. Romanoff seems to slip into a role, her expression professional and practiced as she assumes many different poses, her forearms exposed artfully in each one.

The photoshoot is over before Wanda has fully processed seeing Ms. Romanoff, her mind replaying the closeness of the woman when she visited her store. The sight of those eyes is burned into her brain, the dark green color ingraining itself into Wanda’s memory. The faint scent of cinnamon wafts near her, and she feels lightheaded with need.

Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with her.

“Ms. Maximoff.” The words are commanding, and Wanda focuses. Ms. Romanoff is standing, her eyes focused on Wanda. “Will you walk with me?”

“Of course,” Wanda murmurs, ignoring the look and subtle thumbs up that Kate sends her.

Walking quickly, Ms, Romanoff pulls the door open smoothly and holds it open for her. Her eyes are intent on Wanda, her hand just barely brushing her waist as she slides past her through the open door.

The silence isn’t overwhelming, instead, it’s rather comfortable. Wanda is well aware of the woman beside her and fights the urge to look over at the way Ms. Romanoff’s hair curls gently over her shoulders.

“Would you join me for coffee?”

“What, now?” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think, and she blushes at Ms. Romanoff’s amused glance.

“Yes, Ms. Maximoff. Now. I’ve been recommended a coffee shop just down the road.”

Wanda blinks. Is this… a date? Is Ms. Romanoff really asking her out? On a date?

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff says, drawing out the syllables. “This would be a date.”

Fuck. Wanda hadn’t realized that she’d said that part out loud. She almost says yes. God, she wants to, but she’d forgotten one crucial detail.

“I have to drive everyone back.”

“Hmm,” Ms, Romanoff doesn’t look pleased. She turns to the side and waves a hand sharply at a man standing nearby. He’s dressed in a sharp suit and snaps to attention. “Taylor, can you drive the photographer, the assistant, and Ms. Bishop home?”

“Of course Ma’am.”

Wanda feels her eyebrows steadily rising in disbelief as the man steps into the room they’d just left. Of course, Ms. Romanoff had a personal driver. She probably had a chef and a housemaid and a… Wanda stopped that train of thought before she could think about it too hard.

“So,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, turning a corner and stopping at a window. There’s a nice view of their small college town, and Wanda turns to look at it. Anything is better than meeting those piercing, heavy, green eyes. “Are you available for coffee?”

“Why do I have the feeling that you won’t let me say no?”

“Oh darling, you can always say no. But that’s your decision to make.”

Wanda glances down, picking at her fingernail to avoid the heavy gaze locked on her. Something about Ms. Romanoff just makes her want to agree with everything the woman says, and the arm muscles flexing through her silky fabric isn’t helping Wanda stay focused. She takes a breath and looks back up, “So this is a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” Ms. Romanoff’s head is tilted slightly, her expression giving nothing away. Wanda feels her heart skip a beat. Her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth, and she feels herself choking on air as she begins to stammer out nonsense words.

“I- well. I’m- I don’t know, I-”

“I would like for this to be a date,” Ms. Romanoff cuts her off smoothly, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

“Well,” Wanda mutters, feeling her face flushing even further as Ms. Romanoff’s smile widens. “I’d like that too.”

“Perfect,” she says, and Wanda wonders if she’s standing closer than before. She can practically feel the older woman’s body heat against her own, and that faint scent of familiar cinnamon wafts beneath her nose. She breathes deeply.

“I’ll have Nick bring the car around. You should tell your friends that you’re unavailable for the rest of the morning.” Ms. Romanoff’s words are low and murmured against Wanda’s ear. She hopes that the woman doesn’t catch the full-body shiver that cascades down her spine, or the goosebumps rising quickly on her neck.

Wanda nods at her, eyes flickering between Ms. Romanoff’s dark green irises briefly before she turns her gaze past her towards Kate. The older woman’s hand twitches, her fingers brushing lightly against Wanda’s waist as she steps around her. A full shudder threatens to run through Wanda’s already overactive nervous system, and she suppresses it with sheer will. Her roommate is in the middle of giving Vision and Paul instructions but turns towards Wanda with a raised eyebrow when she begins walking over.

How the fuck is she supposed to explain a last-minute date with the country’s hottest, richest, and most eligible bachelorette?

Chapter Text

Kate’s eyes are curious, roaming over Wanda like she’s looking for an answer to the flush on her cheeks and the small smile she keeps trying to stifle. Her brown eyes meet Wanda’s, a silent question in them as the redhead walks up to the group.

“Hey, you guys,” Wanda says, feeling her blush return when both Vision and Paul look up. “I’m going to head back a little later, but thank you for helping with this photoshoot.”

Vision blushes hotly and stutters as he mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a thank you while Paul just smiles widely at her, his hands moving quickly as he dismantles a tripod. Kate fixes her with a look, before her hand is tight around her upper arm and dragging her towards the corner of the room.

The feeling of Ms. Romanoff’s eyes on them settle underneath Wanda’s skin, the comfortable weight of those dark green irises causing her heart to pound. She’s acutely aware of the older woman’s gaze, but valiantly directs her focus toward Kate’s imploring gaze.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re staying here?” Kate asks, scoffing at Wanda’s attempt to feign confusion. “You hate big cities, Wands. Does this have something to do with Ms. I'm-Super-Hot-And-Intimidating over there?”

“Okay, maybe,” Wanda relents, her head snapping up as she processes. “Wait, what did you just call her?”

Kate waves her off, “That’s not important right now. What on earth did Ms. Romanoff say to get you to stay longer?”

“Oh,” Wanda flushes, risking a glance over at the woman. Ms. Romanoff’s green eyes stare intently back at her, the woman’s posture relaxed even as she crosses her arms, those forearms standing out and taking Wanda’s attention away from the conversation at hand. She coughs slightly, turning back to Kate, who regards her with an unamused look.

“She sort of, kind of… asked me out for coffee?”

“Oh my fucking god, Wanda.”

In retrospect, Wanda supposed that was kind of a big deal. After all, from her hours of research on the woman, she couldn’t ever recall Ms. Romanoff ever publicly dating anyone. Obviously the woman was extremely selective in every aspect of her life, given her all-blonde staff and art pieces she’s selected for her office. Wanda wondered what she had that appealed to the woman.

Shaking off the self-deprecating thoughts that rose around her, Wanda looked back at Kate with a pleading expression. “Please don’t make this a big deal, I'm just… trying something new and putting myself out there.”

Kate’s incredulous look morphed into one of understanding, and she nodded slightly as a spark appeared in her eyes.

“Alright, but I expect a full debrief when you get back home.” She started walking towards the boys again, pushing Wanda towards the CEO waiting for her near the door. “And that includes every detail, especially if you guys make out.”

Wanda doesn’t have time to berate her, the brunette quickly walking away while simultaneously shoving her further toward the door. She quickly steels herself, taking a shuddering breath and forcing her nerves down until they weren’t a pit on her stomach.

She could do this. It was just a date, and Wanda had been on dates before. All those dates had been spectacular failures, of course. But, she knew what to expect and what sort of etiquette was appropriate. Plus, she could be cool and interesting when she wanted to be.

Looking up Wanda made eye contact with Ms. Romanoff again, and stumbled slightly as her gait was thrown off. Yeah, she was really selling the ‘cool’ part of her new act.

Fuck that, Wanda was going to be herself. Obviously it had already started to work on the older woman, and what more did she have to lose?

“Hi,” Wanda says once she’s an arms-length distance from the woman, her voice softer than she’d intended.

“Hello,” Ms. Romanoff replies, her tone laced with amusement. “Are you ready for our date?”

Flushing Wanda lets herself smile as a giddy feeling rises within her. Hearing the other woman confirm that this was, in fact, a date made her unreasonably happy. “Yes, let's grab coffee, I need some caffeine.”

“As do I.” The comment is casual, but Wanda can sense the undercurrent of warmth beneath it. It’s so different from the cold, detached manner in which Ms. Romanoff had spoken to her friends. This tone is friendly and bordering on familiarity. Wanda immediately wants to hear more of it.

They walk to the elevator in an anticipatory silence, Wanda trying to come up with something to ask the woman that wasn’t completely lame. Honestly, it’s not like she could just ask the woman what her favorite color was, that was so… pedestrian.

Wait. Why couldn’t she ask? Because she thought Ms. Romanoff would think her childish or immature for asking such a simple question? Wanda had only been around the woman for a total of around 45 minutes, but she knew the woman wasn’t one to judge on something so simple.

“So, what’s your favorite color?”

Ms. Romanoff pauses, her fingers inches from the elevator button. She seems to shake herself, pressing the button before turning her body towards Wanda, regarding her intently. Wanda feels herself flush, sure that she’s just made a mistake, but holds the woman’s gaze resolutely.

“Nobody has ever asked me that,” she says, her dark green eyes searching Wanda’s for a moment. Then, she smiles softly. It’s genuine and small, but Wanda’s heart swells at the sight of it gracing her lips.

“My favorite color is burgundy, a darker shade of red.”

“Mine is Carmine, a bit lighter in shades, but still red,” Wanda responds, smiling at the wonder in Natasha’s eyes.

“Well, what a happy coincidence. We’ll never fight over color palettes,” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes sparkling.

Chuckling, Wanda nods. “I’m a fan of dark, earthy tones. If you couldn’t tell from my wardrobe.” She gestures towards her outfit, and Ms. Romanoff’s eyes travel down her green shirt and dark brown pants. They linger for just a second too long to be friendly, and Wanda doesn't find herself minding all that much.

“I’m also a fan of a darker color palette, if you couldn’t tell from my office.” Those dark green eyes are shining with amusement, and Wanda just smirks as she remembers the muted tone of black and white.

“We can work on adding some variety to your workspace,” Wanda counters, and a delighted look springs into the CEO’s eyes at the light-hearted jab.

Those delicious, dark-red stained lips open to counter, but the elevator chooses that exact moment to arrive. The echoing ding startles Wanda, and she blinks as the doors open.

Inside the elevator, a couple springs apart, their lips puffy and eyes wide. The girl’s face is flushed, and the young man next to her has mussed hair and his hands in front of his body, attempting to conceal his reaction to the obviously passionate make-out session they’d stumbled upon.

“After you,” Ms. Romanoff smirks and gestures with her hand, and Wanda flushes at the manners as she steps into the elevator. As the older woman moves into the small space after her, Wanda bites her lip at the smell of cinnamon wafting over her. There isn’t much room with the other couple, and she feels warmth spread throughout her entire body as Ms. Romanoff’s shoulder presses against hers.

The air is still, the atmosphere awkwardly silent. The other couple stares guilty at the floor, and when Wanda risks a glance to her right, Ms. Romanoff has a hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. Unfortunately, the hotel the rich CEO picked doesn't play trashy elevator music, so they descend the floors to the tune of embarrassed silence and smooth jazz.

Wanda struggles to keep a straight face and breathes a sigh of relief as the doors open on the ground floor. To her surprise, Ms. Romanoff takes her hand, lacing her cool fingers with Wanda’s. Pulling her with her, she strides confidently out towards the front door.

“What is it with elevators,” The woman remarks in that low, raspy voice of hers, seemingly oblivious to Wanda’s stunned silence. She can feel her heartbeat racing, warmth flooding through her from where Ms. Romanoff’s hand is clasped against her own. The suppressed giggles of the couple sound out from behind them, but Wanda pays them no mind.

Truly, the most attractive thing about Ms. Romanoff is her quiet, self-assured confidence. Wanda admires the way she walks with her head high, her words sharp but not unkind. She expects the best and doesn't accept any less, and Wanda once again wonders where she fits into the puzzle of the woman’s life.

Outside, the sun is shining, a cool breeze making its way through Wanda’s hair as Ms. Romanoff gently pulls her towards the sidewalk. They walk for a bit, chatting about specific shades that make up the perfect color palette, when Wanda realizes something.

No one has ever held Wanda’s hand, not like this. Ms. Romanoff hasn’t made any moves to remove her fingers, lacing them with Wanda’s as if it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world. Wanda feels lightheaded with giddiness.

Is this what it feels like to be with someone who’s not ashamed or afraid to show her off?

They reach the coffee shop, and Ms. Romanoff slowly removes her hand from Wanda’s as she opens the door. She holds it open, and Wanda marvels once again at her impeccable manners as she’s ushered through the door.

Stopping a few feet away from the start of the line, Wanda looks around as she attempts to gain her bearings. The coffee shop is large, the menu expansive and the music low as the sound of low voices fills the espresso-scented air.

Ms. Romanoff stops just behind her and Wanda shudders involuntarily at the feeling of the woman pressing against her gently.

“Why don’t you go find us a seat and I’ll order. What would you like?”

Holy fuck.

The sound of the CEO’s low words send a shiver down Wanda’s spine, an unknown feeling pooling in her gut. She can feel warm breath hitting her ear as the woman speaks, and knows that if she were to turn her head, those tempting lips would be mere inches from her face. God, she wants to turn her head, to see if the woman behind her would get just as flustered as she is at the sight of her lips close to hers.

Wanda turns her head, hearing a sharp intake of breath as her eyes find Ms. Romanoff’s. The woman’s body has gone rigid, her eyes locked on Wanda’s lips for a second too long to be a mistake. Then, slowly, she drags her gaze up towards Wanda’s. It’s purposeful and intent, the heat of those eyes sending flashes of electricity shooting straight to Wanda’s core.

Suddenly remembering the question she’d just been asked, Wanda speaks, keeping her voice low. This moment feels too personal, too… intimate to ruin.

“I’d like an iced chai with vanilla, please.”

“A wonderful order,” Ms. Romanoff remarks, her eyes glancing down again, catching Wanda doing the same thing. Her smirk widens. “I’m partial to a hot mocha with cinnamon powder, myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wanda murmurs, before she takes a deep breath and brushes her hand against the older woman’s waist. It’s light, her fingers barely applying any pressure, but the daring move has Ms. Romanoff’s eyes darkening and her tongue darting out to wetten those tantalizing lips.

Leaning in slightly, Wanda hears the CEO’s breath hitch slightly. “I’ll go find us a seat.”

Pulling away, Wanda registers the shocked look on Ms. Romanoff’s face and grins to herself as she finds a quiet table near the window. She watches the woman from under her lashes, taking in the confident stance and light flush on her cheeks. A part of Wanda feels immensely proud that she was the one who caused that sort of reaction to the well-put-together woman.

She wants to find every crack in that perfect facade and reveal them until Ms. Romanoff’s truest self is revealed, and she’s found one way to do so. Who knew that the woman was so thrown off by a little teasing?

Wanda muses that Ms. Romanoff probably doesn’t expect teasing in return, given that most of the advances made so far between them have been made exclusively by the older woman. She’s deep in thought when a cup is placed before her, the comforting scent of chai reaching her nose as she blinks in surprise.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Flushing, Wanda racks her brain for an appropriate response. She couldn’t very well say, oh I was just thinking about if you would moan if I squeezed your hip, or if you get flustered when your bottom lip is bitten, or if you’re as controlling in the bedroom as you are in real life. She couldn’t say that, so instead she made something up.

“I was wondering what type of perfume you wear.”

“Oh?” Ms. Romanoff gracefully takes her seat, raising a single eyebrow at her. It’s a silent command to continue, and Wanda chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to accidentally offend the woman.

“You smell like cinnamon, which isn’t a common perfume scent,” Wanda begins, noticing the way Ms. Romanoff sits back in her chair as she regards her with interest. “So I was thinking about what sort of perfume you wear.”

“And did you come to a conclusion?”

“I did not.”

Ms. Romanoff hums in response, smiling as she sips her mocha. She doesn’t offer an answer, and Wanda doesn’t ask further. She’ll let the woman keep her secrets for now.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Wait. What?

“Who?” Wanda asks, confused.

“The photographer.”

Ms. Romanoff’s relaxed pose tells a story of indifference, but the tenseness on her face and the way her eyes search Wanda’s tell a completely different tale.

“Vision?” Wanda shakes her head, sipping her chai as she scoffs. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“I sense derision.”

“Well, he’d like to be my boyfriend,” Wanda explains. “But I don’t…”

There’s a moment of silence, and Ms. Romanoff leans forward. Her attention is solely focused on Wanda, but instead of intimidated, she feels rather comforted.

“You don’t, what?” The words are gentle, and Wanda takes another sip of her chai while blushing.

“I don’t like him that way,” she finally says. It’s not the answer she really wanted to give, but it’s the one she feels comfortable saying. Ms. Romanoff nods once, understanding dawning on her features. She seems satisfied with Wanda’s response and doesn’t inquire anymore about Vision and his obvious crush on her.

“How do you feel about me?” Ms. Romanoff asks, and Wanda nearly chokes on her drink. She hadn’t expected such a straightforward question, but after looking at the serious expression on Ms. Romanoff’s face, she decides to match the woman’s brutal honesty.

“I find you intimidating,” Wanda says, before she flushes and gazes intently at the lid of her chai cup. This cafe uses a strawless lid, one with an extra-wide mouth. She supposes they’re probably doing it for the sake of the environment.

“You should,” Ms. Romanoff replies. “I appreciate the honesty, but please, don’t look away when I’m speaking to you. I like to see your face.”

“I- you… like to see my face?”

“You have a wide range of expressions, it’s cute,” Ms. Romanoff smirks, her eyes glancing pointedly at Wanda’s reddening cheeks. “You’re a mystery to me, Wanda.”

“Oh?” Wanda asks, curious. She leans forward, “How am I the mystery between the two of us?”

Ms. Romanoff smiles at that, setting her drink on the table between them as she tilts her head. “You’re self-contained, you only show the world what you think it wants to see, not what you truly are.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Ah yes, but the difference between the two of us is that I’m a well-known public figure. Having an air of aloofness and mystery is essentially part of the job description. You, however, have the freedom to be whoever you want to be, to interact with the world however you choose. And yet, you remain private.”

Wanda blinks at the assessment, and Ms. Romanoff leans back in a manner that could be read as smug, if not for the gentle smile on her face.

“Do you offer up personal observations like that?”

“Are you offended?”

“No,” Wanda says slowly, considering what she was about to say. “But I have an observation of my own.”

There’s a spark of interest, and a bit of challenge in Ms. Romanoff’s dark green eyes. “Go on.”

“You like control.”

“I do,” she nods, “I exercise control in every aspect of my life, Wanda.”

“Including the part where you haven’t offered to let me call you by your first name?”

“Exactly.” Ms. Romanoff’s tone is far too smug for Wanda’s liking. God, the audacity of this woman. Everything about her screamed that she was in control of this conversation. Why did Wanda find that so hot?

The refusal to let Wanda call her by her first name was just another element of her control. Another way to show Wanda that they were not yet on the same playing field. And honestly, Wanda would’ve cared more if she didn’t find the power dynamic so appealing.

“What does your sister do?” Wanda asks, and judging by the way Ms. Romanoff’s eyebrows fly up, the woman is caught extremely off guard. Ha. Take that, Wanda can ask invasive questions too.

“She teaches a professional martial arts class in New York.” The response is clipped, short. Evidently, Ms. Romanoff isn’t pleased with the personal change of topic.

“I’ve always wanted to visit New York,” Wanda says, and interest sparks in those green eyes across from hers, any signs of earlier irritation long gone.

“It’s beautiful, especially in the fall.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, with Wanda eyeing the long fingers on Ms. Romanoff’s hand as it rests near the center of the small table. It would be so easy to reach over and rest her hand next to it, but Wanda’s never been that bold. So instead, she sits and sips her chai and wishes she had to bravery to grab Ms. Romanoff’s hand the same way the woman had in the elevator.

As they chat about lighter topics, Wanda notices that Ms. Romanoff’s knee is slowly pressing against hers underneath the table. She’s in the middle of talking about her finals when she first notices it, her words halting for a brief moment before Ms. Romanoff tilts her head slightly, prompting her to continue.

It’s infuriating, and Wanda tries to suppress the heat that coils in her stomach with each passing second as she feels the pressure of Ms. Romanoff’s steady knee increase. It’s comforting, it’s arousing, and it’s throwing Wanda off balance.

Well, Wanda can give the same energy right back.

“So do you have a girlfriend?”

It doesn’t work. Ms. Romanoff remains as cool and collected as ever, the only evidence of surprise shown by her raised eyebrow.

“If I was in a relationship, I would not have asked you out on a date, Ms. Maximoff.”

“So this is an official date?”

“It is.” Ms. Romanoff’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and Wanda smiles slightly.

“Just making sure,” she mumbles, finishing her chai. “Did it go well? Did I pass the test?”

“What test?”

To her credit, Ms. Romanoff sounds genuinely confused. Wanda immediately wishes she could take it back, but instead lets her mouth start talking without thinking.

“I just meant… I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been trying to pass some sort of test to be worthy of your presence ever since the interview.”

“Well,” dark green eyes find hers, shining with sincerity. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. I am genuinely interested in you, Ms. Maximoff. I want us to be on an even playing field as we get to know each other, hence this public coffee shop.”

“Oh.” Wanda doesn’t quite know what to say, but something inside her chest settles. She smiles instead, that giddy feeling rising once again as she meets Ms. Romanoff’s eyes. Fuck, the older woman is so effortlessly beautiful.

Standing, Ms. Romanoff offers her hand. “Shall we?”

Chuckling slightly, Wanda takes the offered hand, blushing at the comforting grip of Ms. Romanoff’s fingers clasped around her own. It feels so natural, her fingers interlocked with the older woman’s, and Wanda finds herself leaning into her.

They walk back towards the hotel, their pace slow and perfectly in sync with each other. Ms. Romanoff’s cinnamon perfume gently wafts toward Wanda, enveloping her mind in a comforting sort of haze. She’s struck with the sudden desire to know everything about the other woman, to break through that outer shell and reveal the complex person she knows is buried deep within her.

However, even Wanda knows that it’s too early to discover the secrets of Ms. Romanoff. So, instead, she turns towards the woman once they reach her car, and leans in.

“I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

Ms. Romanoff lets out a small huff, her eyes closing briefly to avoid looking at Wanda’s lips, which are about an inch away from her own.

“Ms. Maximoff, please refrain from teasing me.”

“Or what?”

Wanda barely has any time to gloat in the first crack she’s made to Ms. Romanoff’s facade before she’s being pushed backward and pressed against the side of her car. Those strong hands are on either side of her, trapping her between her car and the woman before her. She can see those muscles flexing underneath the silky fabric of Ms. Romanoff’s shirt, and hears her own shaky breaths as the woman leans in.

Her lips are mere centimeters away, and Wanda is filled with the urge to taste them. God, they’re so… fucking… close…

“Or I will have to retaliate until you break and crumble beneath me.”

It’s official, Wanda is fucked.

Chapter Text

The door squeaks as Wanda fumbles with her keys, stepping into her apartment and hoping that Kate wasn’t home. She can feel her face burning, her thoughts having been filled with the enigmatic woman that was Natasha Romanoff on the drive home. Her hands, so close to her waist yet not touching her. Her hair, falling over her shoulder as she leaned in to speak. Her lips, so soft and kissable and right fucking there. Her cinnamon perfume wafting over Wanda and making her dizzy with need-

“Hey, you’re home!” Kate calls out, and Wanda groans internally. “Tell me all about the date, don’t skimp on any details.”

Walking around the corner, Wanda sets her bag down as her eyes find Kate grinning at her from the couch. The brunette pats the spot beside her, her eyes lighting up as she takes in Wanda’s flushed face.

“Okay, fine…” Wanda starts with an air of faux reluctance as she sinks into the couch. She grins, and Kate giggles as she tells the story of her first date with Natasha Romanoff.

—

“Oh my god, Wanda. She totally wanted to kiss you.”

Wanda smiles, ducking her head. Her fingers trace a nonsensical pattern against the blanket thrown over both her and Kate’s lap. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hoping she wants to and making things up in my head.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate surges forward and grabs Wanda by the shoulders.

“Of course she wants to kiss you, you dumb lesbian! Literally everything she’s been doing and saying has been to show you that she is interested in you, oh my god.” Her words are emphasized by the small shakes she delivers, Wanda’s body rocking back and forth from the force of it.

“Okay, fine,” Wanda says, a smile breaking across her face as she lets Kate’s words sink in.

“She likes you. She asked you out on a date and reassured you that it was an actual date multiple times. Also, she was totally going to kiss you. Natasha Romanoff wants you, I swear on my life.” Kate says, her voice serious.

Heat spreads across Wanda’s face, and she just smiles as she ducks her head. Kate doesn’t like her lack of response, and Wanda startles when she shakes her by the shoulders again, this time a bit more forcefully.

“You are quite literally the most beautiful woman I know, Wanda. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you’re the total package. Hot and cute at the same time, smooth skin that I would literally die for, and you’re really fucking nice. Like, I don’t think it’s even possible for you to ever be mean to somebody.” Kate rambles, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do not argue with me on this.”

“Fine,” Wanda chuckles, pushing away the thoughts of self-doubt that begin creeping into her mind. “She’s kind of out of my league though.”

“What, because of how much money she has?” Kate asks, scoffing. Wanda nods her head. Yes, exactly. Natasha Romanoff is powerful and rich and more gorgeous than a 22-year-old about to graduate college could ever hope to be.

“She’s richer than, like, 90 percent of America. That’s not something I’d compare, Wanda.”

“She’s-”

Kate doesn’t let Wanda finish her sentence, instead shoving her computer towards her. The screen glows brightly, a new email having recently popped up from Vision. Kate clicks on it, burrowing into Wanda’s side as they take in the edited photos from the photoshoot earlier that day.

God. Wanda didn’t need the reminder that Ms. Romanoff was practically a goddess among mortals. Her striking features stand out on the screen, her eyes piercing yet somehow warm, even through the lens of a camera. Or, maybe Wanda was just going insane and imagining things as her mind attempted to comprehend the photos.

Her features are perfect. Too perfect. Wanda finds herself flushing, her brain searing Ms. Romanoff’s face into her memory.

Why would someone that perfect go through the trouble of getting to know Wanda? Ms. Romanoff probably had hundreds of women waiting for a crumb of her attention, what made Wanda so special?

Nothing. She’d just made the unfortunate yet memorable first impression of tripping through a doorway.

That night, Wanda dreams of cold, green eyes that find her lacking.

—

“Wanda, there’s a package for you,” Kate calls out, her voice tired.

Closing her laptop, Wanda rolls her neck, feeling her tight muscles as she does so. She’s almost finished with finals, her last paper in the final stages of edits. Kate was grabbing her keys, uncaring of how she looked in sweatpants and a hoodie as she headed over to campus to take her last exam.

“I’ll grab it in a minute, thank you,” Wanda shouts, hearing the door close after Kate yells a quick goodbye. Standing, she stretches as she walks towards the front door, her eyes bleary and mind focused on the numerous edits she needed to finish.

A brown Amazon box waits for her on the counter, the packing slip offering no return address. Wanda blinks, her eyebrows furrowing. Interesting, considering she couldn’t remember ordering anything.

The kitchen scissors easily cut through the tape, and Wanda considers putting on the kettle as she notices the new box of green tea Kate had picked up earlier. She could definitely use some caffeine. Her eyes return to the box, catching a glimpse of what seemed to be a book.

Suddenly wide awake, Wanda hurriedly opened the box, her eyes widening as she took in the contents.

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson lays innocently inside the box, the ornate cover catching Wanda’s eye as she sinks into a chair. Gingerly picking it up, Wanda flips it open slightly, the smell of old paper hitting her nose as she softly thumbs through the pages.

There, a publication date. The numbers stare up at her, and Wanda resists the urge to scream as she realizes that this book is a first edition. A genuine, authentic first edition.

Only one person could have sent this, and Wanda gently sets the book on the counter while she digs through the box until she finds a note. The neat handwriting mocks her, the only thing written on the card is the flowing script of Natasha Romanoff’s name.

Goddammit.

She can’t accept the book. Google tells her how much a first edition is worth, the number sending Wanda’s head reeling as she throws a glance towards the book innocently lying on her kitchen counter. She’s never even possessed that much money in her life, and now a book worth literally thousands is in her apartment. As a fucking gift.

Wanda needs a drink. A strong one.

—

Glasses clink as Wanda takes a large swig of her dirty Shirley. As much as Kate makes fun of her, she truly hasn’t found another drink that she likes quite as much. Something about the sweet flavor and distinctive red coloring with a cherry on top just brings her indescribable joy. She hasn’t found another drink that meets her expectations, and she grimaces as Kate chugs a beer while cheers ring out around her.

“I can’t believe the semester is finally over, we’re officially real adults!” Kate exclaims, her words only slightly slurred as she gestures widely with her arms. A cheer sounds out again, the bar packed with graduating seniors celebrating the end of their college careers.

Wanda smiles, drinking slightly faster. She hadn’t partied in a while, the stress of finals having consumed her for the past few months. Now that her final grades were in and she would be walking the stage next weekend, she let herself drink and relax. She deserved it.

“To the end of exams and homework,” Wanda says, holding her glass out.

Laughing, Kate echoes her words and clinks her glass against Wanda’s. Paul clinks his glass of Diet Dr. Pepper against hers and claps Vision on the shoulder when the blonde sways in his seat as he cheers.

Vision doesn’t graduate for another year, but having Paul as a roommate meant going out with him whenever he asked. Wanda didn’t mind too much, since having another person in their group meant less money she had to pay when the bill came around. Besides, even though Vision had an obvious crush on her, he hadn’t yet found the courage to ask her out. Wanda hoped he never found the courage.

“I’m going to smoke,” Wanda yells, her voice barely carrying over the loud music. Kate nods at her, spilling some of her beer on the table as she attempts to gesture with her hands. A goofy smile spreads across her face, and Wanda chuckles at the sight of her roommate attempting to clean her mess with the paper-thin napkins the local dive bar provides.

Walking towards the exit, Wanda focuses on not stumbling as she pulls her pack of cigarettes from her pocket, fumbling with the lighter as she steps out into the small patio the bar offers. A few other smokers are out, one girl slumped over the bush as her friend holds her hair back and rubs her back.

Lighting her cigarette, Wanda takes a deep breath and sighs contentedly as the smoke hits the back of her throat. Leaning back against the brick wall, she looks up at the night sky with bleary eyes.

Pulling out her phone, Wanda glances at the numbers. Her thumb scrolls, the names in her contact list blending together as she takes in another breath full of smoke. Ah, there. She stops scrolling, her thumb hovering over a new contact.

Natasha Romanoff.

Fuck it. Wanda’s thumb presses on the number next to her name, the action barely registering in her mind as she leans harder against the side of the building. Her fingers loosely hold her cigarette as she flicks some ash onto the ground.

She answers on the second ring.

“Wanda?” Her voice has a hint of surprise, and Wanda giggles. Honestly, she’s surprised that she had the guts to call, but she wasn’t much in control of her own actions after a few drinks. Then, a thought hits her. How does Ms. Romanoff know it’s her?

“Why did you send me the book,” Wanda says, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. She brings the cigarette to her mouth, listening for a response as she takes a deep breath.

“Wanda, are you alright? You sound different.” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is laced with concern, and Wanda just raises an eyebrow. Not that the other woman can see it.

“I’m not different,” Wanda retorts, her mouth spewing words before she can think about them. “You’re the one who’s different. All mysterious and reclusive, ooooh.”

There’s silence for a beat, and Wanda takes another drag of her cigarette. One of the other smokers drops his used cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his heel before pulling out another one. Wanda does the same, fumbling in her pockets for another. Then, Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds out through the speaker, firmer this time.

“Have you been drinking, Wanda?”

“Maybe, why do you care?”

“I’m just curious,” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda hears fumbling on the other side of the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a bar, it’s not suitable for you.”

“Not suitable?” Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds slightly strained. “Which bar, Wanda.”

“A college bar.”

The woman changes tactics, and Wanda hears more fumbling through the phone. It sounds like the woman is getting dressed, and she’s immediately greeted with thoughts of what Ms. Romanoff might wear in bed. Hopefully nothing.

“How are you getting home?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda can hear her words slurring. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m only going to ask this one more time, Wanda. Which bar are you at?”

Sighing, Wanda lights her second cigarette. Letting the silence drag on for a moment, she smiles at the huff of breath she hears through her speaker. “Why did you send me the book, Natasha?”

“Wanda, tell me where you are. Now.”

Giggling, Wanda remembers how much of a control freak Ms. Romanoff is. The image of the woman wearing a latex bodysuit with a corset and a riding crop flashes through her mind, and Wanda can’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

“God, you’re so… dominant.”

“I swear to God,” Ms. Romanoff trails off, and Wanda smiles at the exasperation in her voice. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, Ms. Romanoff. So naughty, using bad words like that.” Wanda feels her head dropping as she says the words, the contents of her last drink finally working their way into her system. Fuck, she’s lost her cigarette somehow. Her fingers fumble around in her pocket, drawing another one from the pack and lighting it.

“Wanda, so help me-”

“Goodnight!” Wanda calls out, sucking in a large breath and admiring the smoke that she exhales into the cool night air as she hangs up the phone. Then, she frowns. She never got an answer about the book. Oh well, the only objective she had tonight was to get drunk… and she had successfully accomplished that mission. Her vision swam, and Wanda took the last few puffs of her cigarette before crushing it on the ground.

Fuck. Did she really just call Natasha Romanoff? Who does that?

The phone rings, and Wanda answers it without looking at the caller ID. Only one person would be calling her right now, and she hates the way her voice sounds as she utters a meek ‘hello’.

“I’m on my way, don’t leave the bar.” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda feels herself blushing at the commanding tone as the woman hangs up.

Wait.

An ice-cold awareness makes its way through Wanda’s veins. She feels herself sobering up, and blinks blearily as she remembers the phone call. Fuck, is Ms. Romanoff actually on her way? Did she really just talk back to the woman over the phone?

It was the alcohol, Wanda decides. All the blame is on the alcohol… and now that she’s sobering up, she should definitely take another shot. She walks back into the bar, ordering a shot of fireball and telling herself that it’s not because the smell and taste remind her of Ms. Romanoff’s cinnamon perfume.

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Kate says, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulder when she returns to the table. “Where were you?”

“I was smoking,” Wanda says, and her roommate doesn’t argue, instead cheering when Wanda knocks back the fireball in one smooth motion.

“So what now?” Paul asks, his cheeks flushed from the humid air of the bar. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and Wanda is suddenly acutely aware of just how stifling the air is. She can feel her shirt sticking to her skin, and suddenly feels as though the room is too small for her.

Wanda manages to mutter something about fresh air before she pushes herself onto unsteady feet and makes her way towards the exit. She can feel the beat of the music thumping through the floor, and breathes a sigh of relief as the heavy door closes behind her, muffling the sound slightly.

The parking lot is blurry, and no matter how many times Wanda blinks, she can’t seem to focus her eyes. The ground seems unsteady, and she leans against the wall as she gratefully sucks in the cool night air.

“Hey.”

Fuck.

Wanda turns, a half-smile plastered on her face as she takes in the figure of Vision next to her. She can feel it turning into a grimace, and decides to look down at the moving concrete instead of his face. Ah, bad choice. Now she’s nauseous.

“Are you alright?”

“I just think I’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Wanda says, her smile dropping further when Vision steps closer to lean against the wall next to her.

“So have I,” Vision says, and Wanda gets the sense that he meant for the words to sound suave, but instead they’re slightly slurred and his eyes are glazed and his hair is all mussed and out of place and all Wanda can see is his stupid face leaning closer and closer and-

Ducking her head to avoid his lips, Wanda pushes him away firmly, her palm connecting solidly with his chest. “I’m okay, Vision. I just needed some space and fresh air.”

“Wanda,” he says, leaning closer and placing his hands on either side of her head, his body almost pressed against hers. “Please.”

“I’m a lesbian,” Wanda hates how soft her voice is and how weak her hands are as she tries to push him off her. “I’m sorry Vision, but I don’t like you that way.”

“I like you so much,” he says, and Wanda wants to bleach her nostrils as she catches a whiff of his cologne.

Her hands are more forceful now, pushing against his chest as he stumbles back slightly. It has barely any effect, his wide blue eyes locked on hers. Wanda tries again, her voice panicked as he leans in again. “Vision, no. Stop it.”

Wanda closes her eyes, feeling Vision's body press against her as he ducks his head. She can feel his boner pressing against her pelvis, and feels bile rise when he sloppily trails his lips against her jaw. Everything feels wrong, and Wanda’s head is spinning and she feels like she’s suffocating and drowning in cheap cologne as her brain goes into overdrive, her body freezing as Vision’s hands start running over her shoulders and down towards her-

Cold air hits her face, and Wanda sucks in a deep breath of fresh air as Vision’s presence is ripped away from her. Her eyes fly open, meeting furious dark green irises for a moment before Ms. Romanoff starts backing Vision up against the wall.

“She said no.”

Holy fuck. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is ice cold, and Vision’s eyes go wide as he begins to stutter and attempt to explain. The woman is having none of it, and silently points towards the door of the bar, her face stony and posture tense. Taking the hint, Vision quickly mutters an apology in Wanda’s direction before scurrying back inside.

“Holy shit.”

“Language,” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes softening as she slowly walks towards Wanda. She makes it three steps before Wanda’s stomach decides it’s had enough excitement for the night.

Her throat burns as bile rises. Wanda turns towards the bushes, expelling the contents of her stomach as she feels a firm hand pull her hair away from her face while Ms. Romanoff gently rubs her upper back. She doesn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed, and decides to never drink again. Her body heaves one last time, before Wanda sucks in a breath and coughs, her throat feeling scratchy.

“Would you like some gum?”

“Please,” Wanda says, pushing away her embarrassment as she accepts. She pops the gum in her mouth, snorting at the cinnamon taste. Of course Ms. Romanoff would chew cinnamon gum, it seemed to be her signature thing.

Leaning her forehead against the cool stone of the wall, Wanda feels her stomach settle slightly as her mind clears momentarily. Panic worms its way into her chest. What was Ms. Romanoff doing here? At this bar? Actually…

“How did you know I was here?”

“I tracked your phone.” There isn’t a trace of humor in Ms. Romanoff’s voice, and Wanda just accepts the answer. Of course a multi-millionaire would have the capabilities to track phones. Glancing over, Wanda takes in the strong silhouette of the woman. It’s intimidating, but leaves a certain warmth coiling in Wanda’s stomach.

“Ah, well. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Standing up fully, Wanda lets her eyes roam over Ms. Romanoff’s figure. She blinks, taking in the soft fabric of an expensive-looking hoodie. The woman must have been relaxing at home, before receiving a phone call from a very drunk college student.

“For the phone call and the…” Wanda gestures towards the bushes, and is rewarded with an amused smirk.

“It happens.” Ms. Romanoff seems to brush off the apology, her eyes intense as they lock on Wanda’s. “It’s all about knowing your limits, dear. And as much as I enjoy pushing limits, it’s quite dangerous to go too far with drinking, do you understand?”

A tendril of irritation rises within Wanda, but then she hiccups and remembers how much of a drunk fool she’d just made of herself. The reprimand was well deserved, but that didn’t mean Wanda had to like it. Some part of her was vehemently against being told what to do, or being spoken to like a child.

“I don’t drink like this often, but we’re celebrating our graduation.” Wanda can’t help the edge in her voice, and judging by Ms. Romanoff’s single, raised eyebrow, the woman doesn’t approve.

Scowling slightly, Wanda attempts to push off the wall with the intention of escaping the weighted look the older woman is pinning her with. She still doesn’t understand why Ms. Romanoff cares, or why she drove to a bar late at night. Her head spins, and Wanda stumbles right into the CEO’s arms as her vision goes slightly fuzzy.

The warmth of Ms. Romanoff’s body pressed against hers and the weight of her arms around Wanda’s shoulders is only making her more dizzy.

“I’m taking you home,” she says, with an air of finality.

Wanda just nods, her head beginning to pound as her stomach twists. Her thoughts seem scrambled, the main thing on the forefront of her mind was how good Ms. Romanoff smelled, and how much she liked the closeness of the woman, and how soft her hair was-

“I need to tell Kate.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re here and that I-” Wanda hiccups again, and pretends not to notice the small, endearing smile that graces Ms. Romanoff’s lips. “I’m going home. She’ll worry if I leave without saying anything.”

“My sister is already inside,” Ms. Romanoff says, her voice gentle.

“What?”

“My sister, Yelena,” she explains, her voice low and words clear. Wanda would pout about the tone, but her head is far too scrambled to care. “She’s inside speaking with your roommate. She was with me when you called.”

Pushing away the embarrassment that rises at the thought of Ms. Romanoff’s sister hearing her drunken phone call, Wanda manages to look the woman in the eye. She feels the tips of her ears burning as she flushes under the intense look she receives, but manages to speak, her words only slightly slurred.

“I want to tell her myself, she’ll worry otherwise.”

“Fine, do you need help?”

Wanda wants to say no. But, she can barely see straight, let alone walk. So, she nods and allows Ms. Romanoff’s arm to wrap around her waist. It’s not that bad, the woman’s muscles flexing against her as she holds her up, her fingers digging slightly into Wanda’s hip. It makes Wanda want more of her touch, and she immediately shakes her head to clear it of those thoughts.

Horny thoughts and a drunk brain never mix well.

The humid, stale air of the bar hits her as Ms. Romanoff opens the door. Wanda immediately wants to go back outside, into the fresh air and the tension and the comfort of the other woman’s presence. Instead, she walks on unsteady legs with the sexiest woman alive holding up half her weight.

“Kate!”

“Oh my god, Wanda are you okay?”

Sitting down, Wanda leans in towards her roommate’s ear, ignoring the wide-eyed look the brunette is giving Ms. Romanoff. Her eyes are glancing between the CEO and the muscular blonde woman, who Wanda assumes is Yelena, as they speak to each other quickly in Russian.

Vision is nowhere to be found, and Wanda smiles.

“Uh, ‘m gonna… gonna go. Home! Going home, with a hot woman,” Wanda says, breaking out into giggles. Kate smiles at her, putting an arm around her shoulder as she attempts to focus. After all, Kate was almost as equally fucked up and wasted as Wanda was at this point in the night, it was her graduation too.

“I think I’m gonna go home with her sister, have you seen her muscles?”

“You know I… only have uh, only have eyes for,” Wanda hiccups again. “Only for Ms. Romanoff.”

“Aww, you useless lesbian.”

Wanda lightly shoves her, reminding Kate to check the Life360 in the morning to make sure she isn’t in a ditch somewhere before she stands. Ah, wrong move.

Swaying, Wanda reaches out her hands in the general direction of Ms. Romanoff. Strong hands catch her by the shoulders, the scent of cinnamon wafting over her and wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wanda catches a glimpse of red hair, and feels a water bottle pressed into her hands with the stern command to sip slowly. She barely registers the walk outside, pausing to light a cigarette as she leans against a large car.

“Is this a bad habit of yours?”

“Only when I’m drunk,” Wanda responds, her mind hazy and eyes blurry. The smoke hits the back of her throat, and she closes her eyes as the world spins. The rumble of an engine reaches her ears, and she feels herself leaning forward.

And then she doesn’t stop. She just keeps falling and falling and there are strong arms and a soft voice and the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen and a long road and bright lights and soft blankets and gentle hands wiping off her makeup and and and-

“Goodnight, Wanda.”

Chapter Text

Warmth. The sounds of muted bird calls filter through Wanda’s brain, her eyes squeezing shut tightly as she registers golden light from behind her eyelids. She’s comfortable, wrapped in a thick blanket on a soft bed. She sighs, breathing in deeply and snuggling further into the silk pillow.

Wait.

Silk pillow?

Wanda’s eyes shoot open, blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the open window, a slight breeze ruffling the curtains. Sitting up, she feels her head spin from the abrupt change in position, and her head pounds from sharp pangs as she remembers the night before.

Holy fuck.

The memory of liquid fire streaming down her throat pulls Wanda’s face into a grimace. She can’t remember how many shots she took, but she can remember the feeling of it regurgitating out of her throat into the bushes while someone held her hair back. Someone with firm hands and soft hair and strong arms and bright… green… eyes…

Shaking her head, Wanda glances at the bedside table. A glass of orange juice waits, the condensation dripping down the glass. Two pale pink pills lay beside it, and Wanda gratefully swallows them, washing the Advil down with ice-cold orange juice. The rancid, bitter taste in her mouth disappears, and Wanda gratefully drinks more of the juice.

It’s more than she probably deserves. Cringing internally, Wanda remembers how Ms. Romanoff had rubbed soothing circles on her back while she puked her guts into the bushes, and throws her head back into the pillow, the blanket falling off her shoulders at the action. She breathes deeply, realizing that she’s wearing unfamiliar clothes.

She’s in her t-shirt, bra, and underwear. Her pants and socks are nowhere to be found.

A violent flush spread across Wanda’s face, the heat starting from the tips of her ears and descending towards her chest. God, this was embarrassing. Not only had Ms. Romanoff witnessed her unfortunate reaction to too much alcohol, but she also had undressed her and tucked her into bed like some sort of… wayward child.

There’s a knock at the door, and Wanda has just enough time to feel her heart drop to the pits of her stomach before Ms. Romanoff is strolling in.

Of their own accord, Wanda’s eyes roam the figure of the woman before her. She’s dressed in a long-sleeve compression shirt and sweatpants, her hair braided neatly behind her. Her pants are hanging off of her hips, almost low enough that if she happened to stretch, Wanda would be able to see far more than she’d anticipated.

Shaking her head from those thoughts, Wanda glances back at Ms. Romanoff’s face.

Great, she’s smirking. Wanda would like to wipe that infernal smirk from her lips, and she’s in the middle of deciding whether she wants to punch or kiss the woman when Ms. Romanoff begins speaking.

“Good morning, Wanda. How are you feeling?”

Her shirt is sweaty, a dark patch running from her collarbones and down her chest. Wanda can’t focus, the sight of Ms. Romanoff’s slightly damp skin sent her brain reeling. She wonders what type of workout the woman does, what her muscles look like when she’s lifting weights of what her form is while she’s running and-

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Wanda remembers the pounding in her head. She takes another large sip of her orange juice, watching as Ms. Romanoff smiles. The woman doesn’t even attempt to hide her amusement. It makes Wanda want to throw something.

“How did I get here?”

Ms. Romanoff sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers splaying out on the comforter. She’s close enough that Wanda can smell her perfume, the cinnamon mixing with a subtle hint of sweat. Wanda takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, shooing away the inappropriate thoughts that linger at the edges of her mind.

“I brought you here.”

Yeah, no shit.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to risk you throwing up in my car on the drive to your apartment. The hotel was closer.” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is low. Wanda feels her head spin.

“Did you put me to bed?”

“Yes.”

“Did I throw up again?” Wanda’s voice is quiet, and she hates how meek she sounds.

“No.” Ms. Romanoff’s face is impassive, her green eyes dark and locked on Wanda’s face. She fights the flush that attempts to rise.

“Did you,” Wanda clears her throat, glancing down to where her fingers are gripping the edge of the comforter. “Did you undress me?”

“I did.”

“Did we?” Wanda can’t finish the question.

Ms. Romanoff quirks an eyebrow, her face serious.

“Wanda, you were unconscious. I would never take advantage of you like that. Somnophilia isn’t really my thing. I enjoy my woman receptive, conscious, and yearning for more.”

“Ah,” Wanda responds lamely, “Well, I’m sorry.”

Those lips quirk up again, “It was a very riveting evening. It won’t be easily forgotten.”

Wanda is about to agree, before she sees the sparkle in the woman’s eyes. Ah, she’s making fun of her.

Fuming slightly, Wanda looks back down at the soft comforter she’s gripping between her fingers. Whatever, the woman can laugh all she wants. It’s not like Wanda had asked Ms. Romanoff to come and get her. She feels scolded, like an unrepentant child, and immediately resents the feeling.

“You didn’t have to track me down like you’re some kind of spy with top-secret government equipment,” Wanda snaps, her voice frigid. Ms. Romanoff stares at her, those green eyes widened slightly, a wounded look appearing in them.

“The technology that allows me to track cellphones is available over the internet, Ms. Maximoff. If I hadn’t come to get you, you’d probably be waking up in a very different room right now, with a photographer who doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no,” Ms. Romanoff responds, her voice raspy and eyes hard. She’s glaring at Wanda, her posture tense, and Wanda can’t help the vision of an angry raccoon as it flies through her mind.

Biting her lip, Wanda smothers a chuckle. “How noble of you. What fantasy book did you fall out of?”

Those perfect eyebrows crinkle, and Ms. Romanoff seems unsure of how to respond. Blinking slowly, she processes the quick change of emotion, before her expression warms and her eyes soften.

“If anything, I’m the misunderstood villain,” she says, her smile sharp. Then, she changes tactics. “Did you eat last night?”

Wanda shakes her head, admiring the way Ms. Romanoff clenches her jaw. She lets out a sharp breath, running a hand over her braid before beginning to take it out, her long fingers nimble. Wanda can’t take her eyes off of it, her imagination running wild.

“You need to eat, that’s why you’re feeling like this,” Ms. Romanoff waves a hand in Wanda’s general direction, and she can’t help but giggle at the statement. Those green eyes find hers again, a surprised look in them.

“Are you just going to scold me all morning?”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Ms. Romanoff stands, moving towards the desk and grabbing a towel draped over the side of it. She turns towards Wanda, wrapping the towel around her neck and grabbing onto the sides of it, her posture tall. “You’re lucky I’m only scolding you.”

“I-” Wanda blinks, the barest hint of a smirk on Ms. Romanoff’s face. God, this woman is insufferable. “What do you mean?”

“If you were mine, you wouldn’t be so smug after the stupidity you displayed yesterday. You didn’t eat, got drunk and put yourself at risk. I hate to think what could have happened to you.” Her eyes are cold again, something that looks like fear flickering in them slightly. She walks towards Wanda, her steps slow and sure.

“I was with Kate, I would’ve been fine.”

“Mhmm,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, leaning over the bed, her face dangerously close to Wanda’s. “And the photographer?”

“He just,” Wanda doesn’t know what to say. “He just got a bit out of hand.”

“The next time he gets out of hand, maybe I’ll teach him some manners.”

“You’re quite the disciplinarian,” Wanda says, her voice as acidic as venom. She’s frustrated with the turn in conversation. Honestly, she was having a fine morning, and now the woman had to bring Vision, of all people, into this?

“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea.” Ms. Romanoff’s smile is blinding, her eyes sharp. It's completely disarming, and Wanda finds herself wheeling from the whiplash. She can’t find any words, completely mesmerized by the rare smile Ms. Romanoff has graced her with.

Also, the pet name? Fuck.

“I’m going to shower, unless you’d like to go first?” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is sickly sweet, dripping with something Wanda can’t comprehend. It feels like every synapse she has in her brain is firing all at once, her breaths short as her heartbeat races.

“Breathe, Wanda,” she whispers, reaching over to trail a single finger down Wanda’s face. It grazes her lips, sending electricity tumbling straight to her heart, before resting under her chin. “Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes.”

Standing, Ms. Romanoff gives her a look, a silent command of some sort. Wanda feels completely out of her depth.

“You must be famished, having emptied your stomach last night so… ungracefully.” With that, she winks and closes the bathroom door.

Wanda lets out a long breath, leaning back against the headboard as the water turns on. She’s never had this urge before, this… desire. All she wants to do is wrench open the bathroom door and get in the shower with Ms. Romanoff, or punch her straight in those beautiful lips. Wanda hasn’t decided which one she wants to do more, yet.

‘If you were mine.’

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And why does Wanda’s heart race at the mere thought of it?

Ms. Romanoff is confusing, Wanda decides. An anomaly sent into her life to destroy any semblance of peace she’s managed to scrape together. She’s sweet and alluring in one moment, then antagonizing and difficult the next. Who else sends a first edition of a book worth thousands, then tracks her all within 48 hours?

Regardless, Wanda has never felt more safe than she does at this moment. In a hotel room, a penthouse, from the look of it. She feels protected, and a sliver of warmth nestles itself in her heart when she remembers that Ms. Romanoff came to rescue her.

Then, she scoffs. Danger. As if Vision could ever truly be dangerous. The memory of his cologne seeps unbidden into her mind, the suffocating weight of his body pressed against hers as his alcohol-flavored breath hit her face capturing her thoughts.

She feels like throwing up all over again.

Scrambling out of bed, Wanda looks around wildly. She suddenly feels the need to escape to… run, far away from the situation she’s found herself in. She turns over the covers, her heart racing once more as she searches the room for her pants.

The door opens, and Wanda whirls around. Ms. Romanoff seems just as surprised to see her out of bed, the towel wrapped neatly around her still-glistening body. Wanda can’t take her eyes off the woman’s bare shoulders, the muscles shining as she gently wrings her hair.

“If you’re looking for your pants, I’ve sent them to be laundered.” Her eyes are dark, trailing over Wanda’s awkward form. “They were covered in your vomit.”

“Oh,” Wanda flushes. She doesn’t know how to respond.

“I sent Nick out for another pair and some shoes. They’re in the box next to the desk.”

She sent her driver out to shop for new clothes. Wanda will never live this down. Although, clean clothes aren't the worst thing in the world.

“Well, um.” Wanda stutters, bending down to grab the box while Ms. Romanoff watches with intent eyes. “I’ll be in the shower then. Thanks.” She darts into the bathroom, locking the door behind her and letting out a shaky breath. How was she supposed to react when she was mere inches away from the perfect body of Natasha Romanoff?

Stepping into the shower, Wanda lets the hot water run over her face, washing away the night before. God, she can’t believe this is her life. She turns the water to a slightly cool temperature, willing her flush to disappear.

She wants Natasha Romanoff. That much is clear to her. Everything else is… muddy. Doubts and insecurities creep into her mind, and Wanda washes them away as she lathers her hair with a coconut-scented shampoo. She can’t even read the name of the brand, and decides to not think about the price as she continues to shower.

Opening the body wash, Wanda breathes in the scent. It smells just like Ms. Romanoff. She rubs it over her body, the suds gathering as she fantasizes that it's her rubbing this soap into her skin, across her chest and circling her nipples, over her stomach and down between the soft skin of her thighs with those strong, long-fingered hands.

“Breakfast is here.” She knocks on the door, and Wanda drops the bottle.

“Okay,” Her voice is strained, and she curses herself as she picks up the soap, rinsing the suds off. She takes a breath, ignoring the wetness between her thighs as she finishes her shower, washing all evidence of her erotic daydream away.

Toweling herself dry, Wanda inspects the box of clothes. Not only is there a pair of new pants and Converse, but also a dark, forest green shirt with black panties and a bra. And fuck, they’re perfect. The design is soft, with a gentle lace design around the edges that has Wanda giggling at the thought of Ms. Romanoff’s driver standing in the middle of Victoria’s Secret picking out her undergarments.

Slipping the clothes on, she marvels at the fact that everything fits perfectly before toweling her hair dry. She eyes the hair dryer, but decides to let it dry naturally instead. She’d rather not have crazy, blown-out hair in front of the most gorgeous woman on earth. Taking a deep breath, Wanda finds a sliver of courage and opens the bathroom door.

The bedroom is empty, her footsteps quiet and muffled on the soft floor. She scans the room for her purse, not finding it. Pausing to steel herself, she walks into the living room area of the penthouse, her eyes widening at the sight of an actual dining table and multiple plush chairs. Everything is elaborate, and Wanda finds herself nervous to touch anything in the room, sure that even the silverware was more than her month’s rent.

“Fuck, Kate,” Wanda mumbles. Ms. Romanoff looks up from where she’s seated on the couch, laying her newspaper on her lap.

“She knows that you’re alive and here. I texted Yelena.” That damned smirk is back again.

Oh, God. Wanda remembers the looks that her roommate was giving Yelena the night before. Kate had really put on the maximum amount of charm to seduce Ms. Romanoff’s sister, and Wanda sighs slightly. The last time Kate had picked someone up from the bar, Wanda was seated on the couch watching sad movies and eating ice cream out of solidarity while she lamented. She just hopes that Yelena shows the same respect that her sister has.

“Sit,” Natasha says, gesturing towards the table. She stands, uncovering the multitudes of platters adorning the table.

“I didn’t know what you would like, so I ordered a bit of everything.” Her smile is small, her eyebrows crinkled slightly. Wanda finds it cute.

“Thank you.”

A pleasant silence fills the room for a moment, each of them eating their respective breakfasts. Natasha finishes first, having scarfed down some bacon and eggs. She reaches for the sausages as Wanda slowly cuts up her pancakes before lathering them in butter.

“That color suits you.”

Wanda blushes, her knife clattering against her plate.

“You should learn how to take a compliment,” Natasha says, her tone kind. Those green eyes watch her, and Wanda finishes her bite before speaking. Her fingers shake slightly around her cutlery, and Natasha glances down at them.

“I should give you some money for the clothes,” Wanda mutters, noticing the way Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “I can’t accept your book either, as nice as it is. Please, let me pay you back.”

“Wanda,” Natasha’s voice is barely a whisper, and she stops her rambling. “I can afford it.”

“That’s not,” Wanda lets out a breath. “That’s not the point, I mean- why should you buy these nice things for me?”

“Because I can and because I want to.”

“That doesn’t mean you should.” Wanda’s voice is equally as quiet. Natasha simply raises an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling.

Sitting back in her seat, Natasha watches her for a moment. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I- what?”

“I believe I asked you a question, Wanda.”

Flushing, she sets her fork down. The topic change has her mind reeling, so Wanda simply chooses to observe the woman across from her for a moment instead. It doesn’t help to clear her mind, but she doesn’t really care.

Natasha is seated casually, her arms resting on the arms of her chair. She looks regal, her head tilted slightly as those lips quirk at the corners. Her hair has almost dried, only the tips still slightly damp. Wanda has to urge to smell it, to see if she used the same heavenly-scented coconut shampoo.

“I’m moving up to Seattle.”

“For?”

What’s with all the questions? Wanda hadn’t realized this was an interrogation. A sliver of annoyance creeps up in her mind, but she pushes it away in favor of admiring Natasha’s sharp jawline.

“I’ve applied to a few internships, I’m still waiting to hear back from them.”

“Ah,” Ms. Romanoff nods, drumming her fingers against the table. “And did you apply for the one I recommended?”

Wanda can’t help but let out a sharp laugh at that. “No, I haven’t.”

“Is there something wrong with my company?”

“No, it’s not that. It just feels like cheating, somehow.” Wanda bites her lip, unsure of how else to answer the woman. Dark green eyes follow the movement and Natasha sits up in her chair slightly.

“Don’t do that,” Natasha’s voice is hoarse and strained. Wanda’s eyes widen in realization.

Fuck, she wants to hear more of that. Wanda hasn’t seen the woman lose even a small bit of her composure, and yet here she is cracking over a small lip bite. It just makes her want to do it more.

“What are you gonna do about it if I don’t?”

Those eyes flash, glancing up and meeting Wanda’s. A shiver runs down her spine at the heat behind them. Natasha’s voice is raspy and low, her words slow and sure. “I’ll bite it for you, only much… much harder.”

Wanda doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Before this progresses any further, we need to sit down and have a discussion about our interests and intentions.”

What? Wanda blinks, curiosity blooming. What a cryptic and definitely-not-confusing statement from Ms. blunt-is-my-middle-name.

“When are you free this weekend?”

After a moment of hesitation, Wanda’s curiosity wins. She wants to learn all of Natasha’s secrets, unraveling them one-by-one until she finally sees the truest form of the beautiful woman seated before her. This is the first step.

“I’m free tonight.”

“Perfect, we’ll fly up to Seattle then. My home is much more comfortable than this hotel room.” Ms. Romanoff’s tone is matter-of-fact, but Wanda is still stuck on one word.

“Fly?”

“Yes.” There’s a smirk on those lips again, and Wanda finds that she doesn’t quite mind much anymore. “I have a helicopter.”

“We’re flying… by helicopter… to Seattle?”

“That’s what I said. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Wanda flushes, her jaw working slightly. “Why?”

“Because I can.” Natasha grins, and Wanda blinks. She feels like she’s in a daze, but lets out a quick breath. If she doesn’t think about it too much, maybe she can pretend like it’s completely normal for people to buy thousand dollar books and fly to the next city over.

Fuck that. Natasha Romanoff is anything but normal, and Wanda is surprised at how easily the thought settles within her. She decides to change the subject.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

If Natasha is surprised by the question, she doesn’t show it. “In the bed, on top of the covers.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, it was quite a different experience for me as well.” Her face is impassive, her fingers trailing down the side of her glass.

“The not having sex part, or?”

“No,” she shakes her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “Sleeping with someone.”

Wanda blinks again, slowly eating her pancake as she mulls that over. Had Natasha truly never slept with another person in the room? But the woman was obviously not a virgin, not with the confidence in which she spoke about sex and… if Wanda was hers.

A pleasant shiver runs down her spine, and Wanda resumes eating. She pushes her questions to the back of her mind, studying Natasha as she reads the newspaper. Allegedly, the woman would reveal her secrets tonight… her interests and intention, as the woman had so eloquently put it.

Now all Wanda had to do was wait.

—

“Ready?”

Wanda nods, her body brushing against Natasha’s as she slips past her into the hallway. Peeking up at her through her lashes, Wanda bites her bottom lip gently as she suppresses a smile.

A second date, that’s essentially what tonight will be. She genuinely can’t believe that she’s made it this far, with Natasha Romanoff of all people. Wanda glances over at the woman again, feeling the barest brush of fingers against her hip. It’s intoxicating, and she immediately wants more.

The elevator dings, and they step in. The elevator is empty, and for some reason, most likely the close proximity in an enclosed space, the energy between them changes. Wanda breathes in slowly, filling her lungs with that addictive cinnamon scent as a charged sort of anticipation fills the space.

The only thing Wanda can hear is her own heart pounding in her head, the pressure of Natasha’s shoulder against hers sending her senses into overdrive. Wanda turns her head slightly, and sees the other woman do the same. Dark green eyes meet hers, something heady and wanting behind them. The air crackles with tension, and Wanda gently, slowly, bites down on her lip.

“Fuck,” Natasha growls. In one smooth movement, she presses Wanda against the wall of the elevator. Before Wanda can even process, her hands are being held above her head by Natasha’s strong fingers while the woman’s other hand is gently gripping the back of her head. Her hips are pinning her against the wall, and her fingers tangle with her hair before pulling.

Wanda’s face tilts up at the action, a gasp escaping her for a moment before Natasha’s lips are pressed against hers. She moans into the older woman’s mouth, not caring if the sound is desperate, and feels a strong tongue moving against her own.

Natasha’s lips are insistent, practically devouring her with gentle swipes of her tongue and harsh bites to her bottom lip. Wanda has never been kissed like this, so passionately and thorough.

Pressing her hips against Natasha’s, she smiles into the kiss at the strangled sound that claws its way out of the other woman's throat. Her tongue finally starts to work, tentatively stroking Natasha’s and dancing with hers as another moan escapes her.

The hand in her hair moves to grasp her chin, holding her in place. Wanda feels helpless, and moans deeper at the thought. God, she has never felt so comfortable or dominated, with her hands pinned and her hips restrained by another woman’s.

“So. Fucking. Good.” Natasha rasps out, each word accentuated by her lips against Wanda’s. She never wants it to stop.

The elevator dings. The doors open, and Wanda is suddenly pushed away, the air feeling much colder than it was mere seconds ago. She brings a hand up to cover her swollen lips, and avoids the three smirking businessmen as they enter the elevator.

Glancing towards Natasha, she glowers. The older woman looks cool and collected, like she’s been sipping tea and doing a boring sudoku puzzle all morning instead of kissing Wanda within an inch of her life. There’s a light flush on her cheeks, and she lets out a slow, long breath.

Wanda smirks. Not totally unaffected, then.

The elevator dings again, and the three men get out. The doors take an agonizingly long time to close, and Wanda sucks in a deep breath the moment they do. Natasha turns towards her, eyes bright and her lips sculpted into a salacious smirk.

“Oh, Wanda Maximoff, what am I going to do with you?”

Chapter Text

Natasha opens the passenger door of a large, black SUV. The windows are tinted, and Wanda glances around for a moment before smiling slightly at the woman and clambering inside. The interior smells like new leather, and the seats are wide and spacious. Wanda watches as Natasha walks around the car, her posture straight and her face impassive.

Should she mention the kiss? Wanda doesn’t know whether to talk about it or pretend like it didn’t happen. Natasha hasn’t given any sort of clue that she was affected, her face impassive and lipstick firmly in place. Honestly, she could hardly believe it was real. Not to mention, that was her first actual, real kiss.

Maybe she just imagined the whole thing.

No. Wanda touches her lips with a single, shaky finger. They’re still swollen from the kiss. She can feel the lingering aftershocks of electricity thrumming through her veins at the memory of Natasha’s soft lips pressed against hers. She didn’t imagine anything. Wanda feels like a changed woman. She wants Natasha, and from the woman’s actions, she wants Wanda too.

The car door opens, and Natasha smoothly slides inside the driver's seat. She tucks in her shirt as she adjusts the mirror slightly, the movements practiced. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Wanda takes her in. She’s her usual polite, slightly distant self.

Great, now the whole thing is even more confusing than it was before.

Starting the engine, Natasha puts the car into reverse and rests her hand on the back of Wanda’s headrest. A hint of cinnamon washes over Wanda, and she hopes she isn’t inhaling too loudly. Natasha’s pose is casual, her eyes vigilant on the road ahead of her.

Wanda isn’t sure where they’re going, but she finds herself relaxing once the car pulls onto the highway. Natasha turns the radio on, and instrumental jazz fills the car. The volume is low, and the silence isn’t quite as awkward with notes filling the space between them. Feeling the music thrum through her, she listens.

The harmonies blend together, the somber tone of a trombone filling the speakers before a piano interrupts in a major key. Wanda listens as the mood shifts, the song an emotional rollercoaster as the scenery flies past outside the car.

“This is really good,” Wanda says, gesturing towards the radio when Natasha looks over.

A small, pleased smile appears on her face. For a brief moment, the CEO looks her age; young, beautiful, and completely unburdened. Wanda gives a small smile of her own back, wondering if music was the way to Natasha’s true, genuine self.

She’s seized with the urge to know about the woman. To uncover the person beneath the stoic mask. Wanda is positive that she is intricate and complex, and she wants to spend the rest of her life unraveling the threads that made the tapestry of Natasha Romanoff. For now, she can start by understanding the music that moves her.

“Can we listen to that one again?”

“Of course, I’m glad you like it,” Natasha murmurs, pressing a button with a small smile on her lips as the song starts over. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Wanda is content to listen in silence, and it seems the other woman is too. She glances over, her eyes catching the sight of Natasha’s hand casually gripping the steering wheel. Her other hand rests on the stick, her fingers drumming on it gently. For some reason, the sight sends a pleasant shiver down her spine.

A ringtone interrupts the jazz, and Natasha hits a button on the steering wheel, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Romanoff,” she says, her voice hard yet smooth.

“Ms. Romanoff, it’s Smith. I have the information you were asking for.” A clear voice sounds out over the speakers, with a slight grain to the sound quality. It's jarringly different from the calm melodies that had washed over Wanda mere seconds ago.

“Good. Email it to me. Do you have anything else for me?”

“No ma’am.”

Natasha presses the button again, the call ending as jazz fills the car once more. Wanda blinks at the abruptness, suddenly very glad she hadn’t applied for her internship. She would hate to work with someone so cold towards their employees. Is this how Natasha acts in the office? The music cuts out again, a ringtone sounding out once more.

“Romanoff.”

“The NDA you requested has been emailed to you, Ms. Romanoff.” A woman’s voice, this time.

“Good. That’s all, Sarah.”

“Good day, ma’am.”

She presses the button again. Jazz plays briefly, before yet another call comes through. Holy shit, is this her life? Just constant phone calls? Wanda doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle it.

“Romanoff,” she snaps.

“Hey sis, did you get laid?”

“Hello, Yelena. You’re on speaker phone, and I’m not alone in the car,” Natasha lets out a sigh, and Wanda smiles slightly.

“Who’s there?”

Those green eyes roll, glancing over at Wanda briefly. They flit down her face, resting briefly on her lips before Natasha remembers to answer.

“Wanda Maximoff.”

“Hi, Wands!”

Wands?

“Hello, Yelena.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Yelena murmurs, her voice slightly raspy. Natasha frowns, her eyes glancing again over to her.

Chuckling, Wanda replies, ”Don’t believe a word Kate says. She’s a filthy liar.”

Low laughter sounds out over the speakers. Wanda can hear Kate in the background saying something, but she can’t quite make out what it is. There’s the sound of a brief, playful scuffle before Natasha clears her throat.

“I’m dropping Wanda off now,” Natasha emphasizes her name. “Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Sure.”

Wait. Yelena is at her apartment? That means… goddamnit Kate. Wanda hopes she doesn’t find any bodily fluids from a passionate night around the apartment.

The music turns on again, and Wanda glances over. Natasha is focused on the road, but now she has both hands on the steering wheel, and her knuckles are turning slightly white. Her jaw is clenched slightly, and Wanda admires the sharp edge of it before leaning her arm against the door and leaning her head against her hand, watching the other woman.

“I wouldn’t mind you calling me by a nickname.”

Natasha glances over, her green eyes softer than Wanda would have expected. When she speaks, her voice is warm. “I like your name, so I’m going to use it. It’s a very beautiful name, Wanda.”

Her voice drops lower when she says Wanda’s name.

The car slows and pulls up to Wanda’s apartment, and she startles for a moment. She realizes that Natasha hadn’t asked her where she lived. How did she… oh.

Right, the books. The woman had tracked her cellphone like some sort of spy, of course she knew where Wanda lived. That, and the fact that her sister was currently in her apartment with her roommate. Wanda made a mental note to deep clean the couch.

Natasha smoothly steps out of the driver's side, adjusting her shirt as she walks around the car. Flushing at the memory of the CEO’s lips on hers, Wanda wonders briefly if she’ll kiss her again. She would like that.

Shaking her head slightly, Wanda steels herself. Now was not the time to be acting like some sort of lovesick fool. The image of blonde women in impeccably sharp skirts and neatly tucked blouses flits through her mind, and Wanda frowns. She refused to be yet another generically beautiful woman that Natasha seemed to surround herself with. She deserved more than that.

Opening the car door, Natasha offers her hand, her fingers reaching out towards Wanda.

Oh.

As she takes her hand, Wanda recalls the short, clipped tone that Natasha had spoken to her assistant with. Maybe she was different from the rest. After all, she’d never been offered a hand as she got out of a car before. How chivalrous.

Natasha’s hand is warm and firm, and her fingers clench around Wanda’s momentarily in indecision. She seems to almost debate with herself for a moment, stuck in limbo as she grasps Wanda’s hand. She doesn’t seem to want to let go, and Wanda hopes that she doesn’t.

She drops Wanda’s hand, her arm instead gracefully reaching around to shut the car door. Momentary disappointment floods Wanda’s thoughts, before the light touch of those same, strong fingers against the small of her back causes an involuntary gasp to escape her trembling lips.

“Lead the way,” Natasha murmurs, her voice low and eyes warm.

Wanda feels herself move towards her apartment, her steps as unsure as a newborn fawn while Natasha’s hand provides a steady pressure against her back. Just before reaching the door, her apartment key in hand, Wanda turns.

Dark green eyes lock with hers, glancing down momentarily before the woman tilts her head in a silent question. The energy between them shifts, becoming charged with something so heady it's almost tangible.

“I liked what happened in the elevator,” Wanda says, her voice steady. She smiles at the slight widening of Natasha’s eyes before inserting her key and walking into her apartment, the woman following close behind her.

Ha. Take that Natasha Romanoff, she can flirt too.

Kate and Yelena are seated on the couch, their bodies practically on top of each other as they watch some reality television show. Wanda gets a glimpse of a woman in a two-piece bikini draping herself over a muscled blonde man before her roommate turns the TV off, whirling around in excitement.

“Hi, Wanda!” Kate leaps up from the couch, hugging Wanda tightly before holding her at arm’s length to examine her. “Wow, last night wasn’t as rough as I thought it was.”

“No,” Wanda laughs, “It was, but I got some new clothes out of it.”

Smiling, Kate opens her mouth to speak again, before remembering who else walked in with her roommate. Turning slightly, she locks eyes with the CEO lingering just behind Wanda.

“Good morning, Natasha,” she says, her tone bright as she smiles widely.

“Miss Bishop,” Natasha responds, her voice a bit stiff, as if she isn’t used to speaking to college students, which, Wanda supposes she isn’t.

“Oh my god, сестра, her name is Kate,” Yelena says, rolling her eyes as she smoothly gets up from her seat. She has a prominent Russian accent, and Wanda finds herself enjoying the sound of it.

“Kate, then.” Natasha nods politely at her, before glancing at her sister.

Yelena opens her arms, pulling Wanda in for a brief hug. Her arms are strong, and although she’s short, her posture and strength tell Wanda that she isn’t someone to be messed with. She misses the hardening of Natasha’s eyes and the way she sticks her hands into her pockets to stop from reaching out.

Kate smiles at the sight, leaning against the couch and watching the interaction.

“Hi, Wands,” Yelena says, smirking slightly. She glances over Wanda’s shoulder, where Natasha is still frowning. “Good to finally meet sober you.”

Wanda likes her immediately and smiles as a chuckle escapes her. “I promise I’m not usually like that. Last night was a… celebration. A rare occasion, if you will.”

“I believe it.”

Clearing her throat, Natasha moves forward, taking her hands out of her pockets. She touches the small of Wanda’s back once more, her tone is apologetic as she speaks. “Yelena, we should probably go.”

“Sure,” she says, turning and pulling Kate into her arms. She kisses her, their lips lingering as the silence stretches on. Kate’s hands make their way to Yelena’s hair, the blonde’s hands tight around her waist as she presses herself fully into her. Wanda looks away, down at her feet.

God, she never knew what to do when people kissed in front of her. It was so… awkward. Then again, she’d never been a fan of public displays of affection in her own - very short and few - relationships.

“Bye, малышка,” Yelena murmurs, grinning widely.

Kate melts. “Yeah, um. Haha, uh you too,” She ends her rambling sentence with an awkward finger gun motion, and Wanda shakes her head as she lowers her hands.

Natasha rolls her eyes, looking over at Wanda with an unreadable expression. The corner of her lips quirk up, as though she’s amused. Maybe she is, but Wanda can’t read her that well yet. One of those hands reaches up, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind Wanda’s ear.

Hearing her breath hitch, Wanda is painfully aware of the other two people currently in the room, but can’t quite bring herself to care. Natasha’s eyes soften, her hand grazing Wanda’s cheek until her thumb just barely brushes her lower lip. It feels as though her nerves are on fire, but the feather-light touch is gone before Wanda can really process it.

“Goodbye моя любовь,” she murmurs, a prominent accent shaping the last two words. The words confuse Wanda, and her curiosity burns as she sees Yelena’s mouth fall open slightly from the corner of her eye.

Wanda decides then and there to start learning Russian.

“I’ll pick you up at 8.”

Natasha steps away, jerking her head at her sister as she opens the door to leave. Yelena follows her to the car, turning and blowing Kate a kiss that causes her to blush and wave awkwardly back. Wanda eyes her, raising her eyebrows as a flush appears on Kate’s cheeks.

The door shuts, instantly blocking the view of the two sisters. Kate turns slowly towards her, eyes wide and lips stretched into a smile. It's contagious, and Wanda can’t help but smile back, her heart rate finally calming and slowing down to a normal pace.

“So… how did it go? Did she fuck you?” Kate asks, jumping on the couch excitedly and pulling Wanda down with her.

“Why do you assume that she fucked me?

A loud laugh erupts from her roommate, and Wanda just grumbles and crosses her arms over her chest as Kate wipes fake tears from her eyes. “Oh please,” she says in between gasps for air, “You couldn’t top that woman even if you tried. She’s got a dominatrix sort of vibe going for her.”

A vision of Natasha in black leather and sharp heels standing over her flashes through Wanda’s mind for a moment. She locks that thought firmly in the back of her mind, where she can think about it later in the darkness of her own room while her fingers move feverishly under the covers.

“Well no,” she says, a bit too sharp. “We didn’t… you know.”

“So you just had a sleepover?”

“God, you make it sound so juvenile,” Wanda exhales, her breath pushing thin strands of hair away from her cheeks. She swipes at them, tucking them behind her ear and remembering the heat of Natasha’s fingers against her skin.

“Even if I didn’t get laid, you obviously did,” Wanda turns her gaze to Kate’s face. The brunette is trying to suppress a giddy smile, and failing epically.

“We totally did,” Kate says, wiggling her eyebrows. “We did it in the car, and in my room, and over the counter, and on this…”

“Stop!” Wanda covers her ears, swatting at Kate as her shoulders heave in laughter. “I don’t want to hear any more about it, spare me the explicit details.”

“And I’m seeing her again tonight!” Kate exclaims, clapping her hands and bouncing slightly on the couch. She can’t contain her excited energy, and Wanda can’t help but feel happy for her.

“Natasha is taking me to Seattle tonight,” Wanda says, regretting it slightly as Kate’s excited eyes turn towards her. She leans forward, her hands grabbing Wanda’s tightly.

“Seattle?”

“Yes.”

“Will she fuck you then?”

“God,” Wanda can’t help the laugh that spews out of her. “I really fucking hope so.”

“Oh, so you like her then?”

“Obviously. What’s not to like?”

“No, what I mean is. You like her enough to let her fuck you?”

“Yes.”

Kate leans back, her eyes wide and an astonished look falling across her face. “I never thought I would see the day,” she shakes her head slightly. “Wanda Maximoff falling for someone, and it’s Natasha Romanoff the hot, sexy, dominatrix billionaire.”

“Oh please,” Wanda giggles. “Stop with the dominatrix bit, I’m going to start to believe it's true. Besides, maybe I’m just using her for her money.”

Kate glances at her before they both fall into a fit of laughter. “Jeez Wands, you can’t even joke about that. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re falling for her already.”

“I know,” Wanda says, her voice soft. She can’t get rid of the small smile on her face.

“Has she at least kissed you?”

“Once,” Wanda says, and that’s all she offers.

She wants more. She knows that much, but she can’t help but wonder why Natasha hasn’t kissed her again. Maybe she didn’t want to? Maybe Wanda was just a really bad kisser, and now she’d ruined any chance she had with the woman.

“We’re going to make you absolutely irresistible this evening,” Kate exclaims, standing and pulling Wanda towards the bathroom. “And we’re going to start with a shower. I want everything scrubbed and shaved. She’ll have to kiss you again once you put in a bit of effort into your appearance.”

Stopping outside the bathroom door, Kate’s expression softens when she sees Wanda’s face. “Hey, listen,” Kate grabs Wanda’s hands again, locking eyes with her. “You’re incredibly attractive, anyone can see that. You’re also really kind and smart and now you have a degree. I can’t tell you how many people I know that have a crush on you. You. Can. Do. This.”

“Kate I-”

Shaking her head, Kate pushes Wanda into the bathroom. “If Natasha Romanoff can’t see what’s right in front of her, then she’s a fool.”

The door closes behind her, and Wanda lets vanilla shampoo and warm water take over her thoughts. She pushes any doubts out of her mind, instead focusing on remembering the way Natasha’s lips felt against hers, the woman’s strong body pinning her to the elevator. There had been no hesitance on her part, and Wanda clings to that as she prepares herself for the date later tonight.

A thought hits her, and Wanda feels momentary panic as she remembers what Natasha had planned for her. God, Kate was going to freak out.

What does one wear for a helicopter ride?

Chapter Text

Vision has called five times, left two voicemails, and sent seven messages to Wanda’s phone. He’s also texted Kate. She showed Wanda the texts, her responses vague and dry. He’s smart, he’ll know that Kate is covering for Wanda, but she doesn’t particularly care. She’s still angry with him.

She’s angry and she can’t get the phantom feeling of his sweaty body pressed against her out of her memory. It leaves a bile taste in their throat and an urge to avoid and run.

The only thing that gets her mind off of that night is the thought of her upcoming date with Natasha.

Kate had helped her pick out an outfit, a pair of loose denim jeans with black boots and a comfortable black sweater. The temperature had dipped for the weekend, leaving everything gloomy as clouds gathered overhead.

It was the perfect weather, in Wanda’s opinion.

Truthfully, there was nothing she liked to do more than sit down with a book and a lit candle as a thunderstorm sounded overhead. Unfortunately for her, by the time Natasha’s car had pulled up to her apartment, the clouds were already clearing. It looked like the helicopter ride was officially happening.

Wanda didn’t know why she was so nervous. It’s not like this was the first date, after all. This time, it felt… official. This date felt more concrete somehow, a spontaneous coffee date nowhere near the level of this.

Natasha was punctual, of course. She was waiting outside, leaning casually against a car, the exterior shining like it had been newly buffed. She opens the back door politely, smiling warmly at Wanda.

“Good evening, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Ms. Romanoff.” Wanda nods politely to her, climbing into the backseat. She hopes it looks grateful, and not at all as awkward as she feels. Nick is sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hello Nick,” she says, watching Natasha round the car.

“Good evening, Ms. Maximoff,” he says, his voice polite and professional. Natasha opens the door, sliding into her seat next to Wanda and gently grabbing her hand. She gives it a squeeze, the feeling of electricity running all the way from Wanda’s fingertips to her furiously beating heart.

“How was your day?” she asks.

Wanda grimaces slightly as she remembers all the prepping Kate put her through. She answers honestly, “Very long.”

“Yes, it’s been a long day for me too.” Natasha’s tone is serious.

“What did you do?” Wanda manages to ask, her voice catching slightly in her throat as the first scent of cinnamon hits her nose. How does the woman’s perfume manage to smell sexy and warm at the same time?

“I went hiking with Yelena.” Her thumb moves, stroking over Wanda’s knuckles. At the feeling, Wanda’s heart skips a beat, her breathing accelerating slightly. She doesn’t dare look in Natasha’s direction, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip slightly. How does she do this to her? She’s only touching a small part of Wanda’s body, and now she’s all worked up like a teenage boy.

The drive to the small airport is short, and before Wanda can get nervous about her first helicopter ride, they’ve arrived. Scanning the outside, she wonders where the helicopter actually is, since there are buildings all around them. Wanda knows that a helicopter needs space to take off and land, but she doesn’t see one anywhere.

Nick parks the car, climbs out, and opens Natasha’s door. She quickly steps out, rounding the car and opening Wanda’s door before she’s even had a chance to unbuckle herself.

“Ready?” she asks, holding out her hand. Wanda nods, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth as excitement and nerves build within her.

“Nick,” Natasha nods curtly to her driver, and heads towards the building. Wanda sees a set of elevators, and a flush rises quickly to her cheeks. The memory of their kiss flies through her brain, and Wanda quickly tries to think of something else.

She hadn’t been able to think of much else, her brain constantly replaying it in her mind the whole day. Twice, Kate had to snap her fingers in front of Wanda’s eyes with a knowing smirk plastered on her face. To say she’d been distracted would have been an understatement.

Natasha glances over at her, a faint smile on her lips. Ha! She’d been thinking about it too.

“It’s only three floors,” she murmurs, her green eyes crinkled at the corners as amusement plays out on her perfect features.

Wanda tries to keep her face impassive as they step into the elevator. Then the doors close, and the tension spikes. It’s an almost electrical attraction crackling between them and sparking where their fingertips meet. Wanda closes her eyes for a moment, attempting to ignore it. The grip on her hand tightens, and five seconds later, the doors open, a cool breeze rushing in and wiping away the heavy layer of tension.

There it is. A white helicopter with the name, Romanoff’s Global Enterprise written in red with the company logo on the side. Surely this was a misuse of company property. But then again, Wanda supposed it didn’t matter since Natasha was the CEO of the company.

Natasha walks over to a small office on the roof of the building, an older man seated inside.

“Here is your flight plan, Ms. Romanoff. All external checks are done. It’s ready and waiting, ma’am. You are free to go.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Natasha says, taking the papers and smiling warmly at him.

Oh, this was someone deserving of polite treatment from Ms. Romanoff. Maybe he wasn’t an employee. Wanda stares at the older man in slight awe.

“Let’s go,” Natasha says, tugging slightly on Wanda’s hand. As they walk towards the helicopter, she realizes that it’s much bigger than it looked from far away. Wanda expected it to be just enough space for two people to fit in, but it looks as though it could fit at least seven people inside. Natasha opens the door and directs her over to one of the seats at the very front.

“Sit,” she commands, and Wanda feels a warm feeling begin in her gut. “Don’t touch anything,” Natasha orders, climbing in and shutting the door.

The door closes with a slam, the outside wind cutting off abruptly. Wanda blinks slightly, noticing the small lights lining the cockpit. It gives it a very homely feel, and she tentatively sits down in the seat directly next to the driver’s seat. Natasha crouches down next to her, strapping her into a harness. Her green eyes are focused on the four straps, connecting them to the central buckle. Wanda hopes she doesn’t say anything about the way her chest is heaving.

Natasha tightens both of the upper straps until Wanda can barely move. She glances up and smiles, like she’s enjoying her own private joke. Wanda is pleased to note that her eyes are dilated slightly. Her strong fingers wrap around one of the upper straps, pulling slightly.

“You’re secure, no escaping now,” she whispers, her eyes intent and scorching as they rake over Wanda’s face. “Breathe,” she adds, her hand releasing the strap to cup Wanda’s face. Her fingers are gentle, running down her cheek until it grasps her chin. Leaning forward, Natasha smiles as she places a brief, chaste kiss on Wanda’s lips.

“I like this harness,” she murmurs.

Wanda’s eyes widen, her mind flying to the dirty connotations of that word. She hopes her blush isn’t too apparent in the dim lighting, but something in Natasha’s smirk tells her that her reactions are glaringly obvious.

Sitting down in the driver’s seat, Natasha buckles herself in, then begins checking every little gadget and gauge. She flips switches and turns buttons, little lights flickering and flashing from various points, the whole instrument panel lighting up. Wanda is mesmerized, watching with wide eyes, even though she doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Put those on,” she instructs, pointing to a set of headphones hanging in front of Wanda. Putting them on, Wanda blinks at the slight static she hears before Natasha puts her own set on, and hits one more switch. The rotor blades start, the vibrations traveling through Wanda’s seat, her fingers gripping the sides as Natasha continues to flip more switches.

“I’m going through the pre-flight checks,” Natasha’s slightly staticy voice reaches Wanda’s ears. She turns and grins, watching the woman as her hands seem to move over the instrument panel with ease.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Wanda asks. Natasha turns to her and smirks.

“I’ve been a fully qualified pilot for over four years, Wanda. You’re safe with me.” Natasha’s smirk widens, becoming slightly sharp. “Well, at least while we’re flying,” she adds, winking saliciously.

Wanda doesn’t even try to hide her reaction to that, her tongue wetting her lips slightly before she gently takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Are you ready?”

She nods, her eyes going wide.

“Okay, tower. PDX, this is Romanoff, cleared for take-off. Please confirm, over.”

“Romanoff, you are clear. PDX to call, proceed to one four thousand, heading zero one zero, over.”

“Roger tower, Romanoff set, over and out. Here we go,” she adds, pulling back slightly on the half-wheel in front of her. The helicopter rises slowly, smoothly ascending into the air.

The buildings grow smaller, and Wanda feels as though she’s left her stomach down on the sidewalk. The bright lights shirk until they’re twinkling below them, similar to the stars above them. Once they’re higher, there isn’t much to see. It’s pitch black, the moon covered by clouds. How can Natasha see where they’re going?

“Eerie, isn’t it?” Natasha’s voice sounds out, and Wanda looks over at her.

“I kind of like it,” Wanda says, catching the warm yet surprised look the older woman sends her. It’s true, though. There’s something inherently peaceful about being this high up. It feels… intimate, almost. Wanda wishes they could stay in this private bubble of theirs for a while.

“How do you know you’re going the right way?” she asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Here,” Natasha points at one of the gauges. Wanda leans over, catching sight of an electronic compass. “Don’t worry, this helicopter is one of the safest in its class. It’s fully equipped for night flight.” She glances over and grins.

“There’s a helipad on top of the building I live in. That’s where we’re headed.”

Of fucking course there’s a helipad where she lives. Wanda feels completely out of her league. She chooses to focus on Natasha’s face instead. It’s softly illuminated by the lights on the instrument panel. She’s concentrating hard, glancing at the dials and gauges in front of her every so often. Her lashes are dark and long, her profile one of the most beautiful things Wanda has ever seen. Her jawline is sharp, her lips full… Wanda would like to run her tongue over that jaw.

“When you fly at night, you fly blind. You have to put your trust in your instruments,” she says, interrupting Wanda’s slightly inappropriate thoughts.

“How long will the flight be?” Wanda manages, slightly breathless. She tells herself that she doesn’t sound eager, her heart beating wildly.

“Less than an hour, the wind is in our favor.”

Okay, less than an hour. That’s not too terrible. Wanda can handle that. She just has to keep her mind off of the upcoming night. The anticipation is eating at her, different scenarios flying through her head at what Natasha could possibly have in store for her.

“Are you alright, Wanda?”

“Yes.” Her answer is short and clipped.

Wanda thinks she sees a smile, but she doesn’t have much time to look. Natasha begins speaking over the radio again, exchanging information with air traffic control. It sounds professional, but Wanda understands enough to tell that they’ve moved into Seattle’s airspace.

“Look,” Natasha points to a small pin-point of light in the distance. Wanda squints at it. “That’s Seattle.”

“Do you always impress women this way?” Wanda asks, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“I’ve never brought a girl up here, Wanda. This is another first for me.” Her voice is quiet, her tone serious.

Oh, that was… unexpected. What did she mean another… oh. The sleeping thing.

“Are you impressed?”

“I’m awed, Natasha.”

She smiles.

“Awed?” For a brief moment, she looks her age again.

Wanda nods, looking away briefly. “You’re just so, I don’t know… competent.”

“Why, thank you, Ms. Maximoff,” she says politely. Wanda can’t get a read on her, but she thinks she’s pleased.

They ride in the dark, comfortable silence for a while. The bright spot in the distance that marks Seattle slowly gets bigger.

“You obviously enjoy doing this,” Wanda murmurs.

“What?”

“Flying,” Wanda says, meeting those inquisitive green eyes.

“Well,” Natasha sounds thoughtful, her fingers drumming the wheel for a moment. “It requires control and concentration. How could I not love it?”

Oh. Right. Wanda feels her flush return as Natasha exchanges more information over the radio.

Seattle is getting closer, they’re on the very outskirts of the city now. Fuck, it looks absolutely stunning. A large city at night, from the sky…

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Natasha murmurs, her eyes glancing out the window.

Wanda nods eagerly. It looks almost unreal, like they’re on a massive film set. It reminds her of Vision’s favorite film, Bladerunner. The memory of Vision’s attempted kiss flashes behind Wanda’s eyes, and she pushes it down, her stomach curling slightly. She resents the guilty feeling that rises within her for not responding to his calls.

He can wait.

The helicopter slows, hovering as a large helipad comes into view. Natasha carefully lands it, a gentle bump signaling the end of their ride. Wanda feels as though her heart is in her mouth, butterflies erupting as Natasha switches the ignition off. The rotor blades slow, the deafening noise Wanda had been filtering out finally quieting until the only thing she can hear is her own quick breaths.

“We’re here,” Natasha says, reaching over to gently take off Wanda’s headphones. Her fingers brush a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ears, and she feels her heart melt at the gesture.

“You know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right?” Natasha asks, her tone serious, a note of desperation running through it. Her green eyes are burning into Wanda’s. It takes her by surprise.

“Of course,” Wanda responds, hoping her words hold enough conviction in them, despite her shaky tone.

It seems to do the trick, Natasha nodding before helping Wanda unbuckle. Every brush of her fingers sends heat down Wanda’s spine, and she hopes her legs won’t tremble as she takes the older woman’s hand and steps onto the roof. She wraps an arm around her waist, holding her tightly as she ushers Wanda towards the doors.

Swiping an ID card and pressing the down button, Natasha pulls Wanda into the elevator. It’s warm on the inside, with mirrors covering the walls and ceiling. She can see Natasha an infinite number of times wherever she looks, and she finds herself smiling.

The elevator descends quickly, the doors opening to an unbelievably huge living area. Wanda can barely take it all in, the dark wood and numerous furnishings catching her eye as they make their way towards a spacious, well-lit kitchen.

“Would you like a drink?” Natasha asks, removing her jacket. She smiles at Wanda’s slow nod, opening a bottle of white wine as she moves to look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Wanda can see all of Seattle from here, the bright lights painting a beautiful picture before her. She would be happy if she could look at this view for the rest of her life.

“Is Pouilly Fumé alright with you?”

“I know nothing about wine, Natasha. I’m sure it will taste wonderful.” Wanda’s voice is soft, hesitant almost. Her heart is thumping wildly in her chest, the urge to run strong. Natasha is rich. Like, billionaire with almost too much money to handle kind of rich. What is she doing here?

Ah, that’s right. Wanda lets her eyes run over the woman’s body for a moment. She wants Natasha. Badly.

“Here,” she says, handing her a glass of wine. Wanda takes it, sipping it as she marvels at how expensive the glass feels. The wine is light, crisp somehow, and utterly delicious.

Taking a seat on the white couch in the center of the room, Wanda licks her lips for a moment before biting her bottom lip. She looks up at Natasha, who has suddenly gone still, her eyes narrowed and locked on Wanda’s face.

“Wanda, stop biting your lip. It’s very distracting.” Natasha’s voice is low and raspy. She sounds lightly strained, and her fingers grip the countertop behind her. “Would you excuse me a moment?”

She leaves quickly, her wine left on the counter. Wanda blinks, sitting back and taking a few healthy mouthfuls of her own, her nerves settling slightly as she turns to gaze out at the city. It really is a beautiful sight.

The sound of footsteps approaching breaks Wanda out of her thoughts, and she turns to see Natasha’s eyes locked on hers as she holds up a document. Bending down, she hands the paper and a pen to Wanda, shrugging slightly as she stands.

“My lawyer insisted on a non-disclosure agreement.”

“What for?” Wanda asks, glancing down at the paper. Natasha waves a hand at it, picking up her wine glass again.

“It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.” Natasha puts an emphasis on the last word, sending a pointed look her way. Wanda smiles slightly. Too bad, Kate, guess she’s not getting any insider details after all.

“Okay, I’ll sign.”

“Are you going to read it?”

“No.”

Natasha frowns, taking a sip of her wine. “You should always read something before you sign it, Wanda.”

Looking up, Wanda gives her a deadpan look. “Natasha, what you fail to understand is that I would talk to anyone about us, even without this agreement. And yes, including Kate. So, it doesn’t matter whether I sign this paper or not. If it means that much to you, or your lawyer, then fine, I’ll sign it.”

“A fair point. Well done, Ms. Maximoff.” Natasha says, looking serious as she takes a longer drink of her wine.

Smiling up at her, Wanda signs the dotted line on both copies, her signature lavish as the pen smoothly glides over the paper. She folds her copy, handing the other to Natasha. Placing her copy in her purse, she finishes off her wine. She sounds much braver than she actually feels.

“So, what now?” Wanda asks, biting her lip again.

Natasha practically growls, her eyes zeroing in on the action. Wanda loves the burning feeling that rises within her, the way her chest heaves slightly as her breath stutters. God, the effect this woman has on her is absolutely intoxicating.

“Come with me,” Natasha says abruptly, holding out her hand and tilting her head expectantly. Her grip is firm as she gently pulls Wanda down the hallway. They go up a set of stairs, turning right and walking until they reach a dark brown door. Pulling a key out of her pocket, Natasha turns to Wanda with a serious look on her face.

“You can leave anytime, you know that right? I’ll be fine with whatever decision you make tonight. Your comfort is my top priority.”

Wanda lets out a breath at that, anticipation itching in her veins. “Open the door, Natasha.”

Unlocking the door, Natasha slowly pushes, the door silently swinging open. Taking a deep breath, Wanda walks in, the scent of cinnamon and the warmth of the older woman right beside her.

Holy fuck.

Chapter Text

The first thing Wanda notices is the smell; leather, wood, and a faint hint of cinnamon. It feels almost inviting, the soft, subtle warmth of the lighting creating a pleasant atmosphere. She can’t locate a source, but it seems to glow from the corners of the room, the soft shadows creating a relaxing ambiance.

The walls and ceiling are the same dark burgundy color, giving the room a spacious, warm feeling. The floor is dark brown wood, varnished and smooth. Looking across the room, Wanda’s eyebrows raise slightly as her eyes land on the large cross-shaped like an X. It’s fastened to the wall across from the door, the straps on each of the corners telling her exactly what it is.

Valiantly fighting a blush, and acutely aware of the woman standing right beside her, Wanda continues to look around the room. Above the cross is a large iron grid, suspended from the ceiling. On it, many ropes, chains, and shackles hang. Near the door are an assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and thin sticks with feathers sprouting from the ends.

Near the door is a large chest of drawers, the dark mahogany fitting the theme of the room perfectly. Each drawer is slim, as if they were meant to hold old items in a museum. Wanda sonders what the drawers actually do contain, before a sliver of fear works its way into her brain.

Does she actually want to know?

Clearing her throat, Wanda continues to look around, unaware of the way her body leans subconsciously towards Natasha. In the far corner of the room, a leather-padded bench innocently sits. The legs look bolted to the floor, and Wanda fights her rising heart rate as she looks at the wall near it. There is a large wooden rack, similar to one used to hold pool sticks, but actually holds multiple canes of different lengths and widths.

The main event, the thing that dominates the entire space, is the bed. It’s somehow larger than a king-sized bed, with detailed wooden posts carved as they stretch towards the ceiling, a sturdy-looking metal grate as the canopy. It’s intricately designed, with gleaming chains and cuffs attached. There is no bedding, just a mattress with a dark red leather cover and a pile of red satin pillows at the head of the bed.

Looking around the room, Wanda finds herself surprised that the wood, dark walls and soft warm lighting make the room almost… romantic in a way. She supposes that this might be the way Natasha shows true affection, and the sudden urge to unravel the woman’s layers and secrets hits her.

Biting her lip, Wanda turns towards the woman beside her. Dark green eyes stare intently at her, just as Wanda somehow knew they would be. Natasha’s expression is unreadable. Walking further into the room, Wanda smiles slightly as the older woman follows closely. There’s an object that has her intrigued. Hesitantly, Wanda reaches out a hand and touches it lightly.

The suede leather is cool to the touch. It looks like a small cat-of-nine-tails, but slightly bigger. There are small, dark red, plastic beads on the end.

“It’s called a flogger,” Natasha says, her voice soft.

Wanda just nods, her mind slightly numb. There aren’t any words coming to mind, all she can do is look around and absorb the dark furniture and various toys neatly arranged around the room. What is the appropriate response? Wanda would have appreciated a slight warning or hint before she walked into a BDSM wet dream.

It’s not that she was… upset. It was just more of a shock. Somehow, the thought of Natasha Romanoff being a domme wasn’t too hard to understand. Wanda had read quite a bit about different kinky aspects of sex, but she’d never had the opportunity to actually try much of anything herself.

The farthest she’d ever gone was light groping behind the school bleachers with her ex-girlfriend. And not many other opportunities had come her way since.

Wanda shakes her head slightly, wiping the thoughts of her past away as she forces herself to walk farther into the room. She can feel herself becoming almost… excited.

“I’m assuming that you’re a Dominant?” Wanda finally manages to say, her words feeling muffled and quiet in the space. She flushes at the pleased look that spreads across Natasha’s face, the woman’s lips turning upwards as she responds.

“That is correct,” Natasha steps closer, watching Wanda as she runs her fingers over one of the delicately carved bedposts. “You don’t seem shocked.”

“I read a lot.”

“Ah, Ms. Maximoff,” Natasha’s voice is teasing, “What kind of books are you reading?”

Wanda lets out a small chuckle, a mere exhale of laughter really. “I’ll bring them over for you sometime, I’m sure they’ll be really enlightening.”

Letting out a thoughtful hum, Natasha smiles at the response, letting her eyes linger on the younger woman’s for a moment. She feels satisfaction building at the way Wanda flushes, her eyes blinking rapidly before she distracts herself by once again looking around the room. Then, Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

There’s that goddamn lip bite again.

Before she can even process the movement, Wanda feels firm fingers gripping her jaw as her eyes meet Natasha’s. The woman is looking down, her pupils dilated as she gently runs her thumb over Wanda’s bottom lip.

“What have I said about biting your lip,” Natasha asks, her eyes dark.

Wanda feels her back pressing against the same bedpost that she’d been admiring just seconds earlier. It’s rigid between her shoulder blades, the back of her head resting against it as Natasha holds her jaw captive. The feeling of the older woman’s body pressing ever so slightly against hers is sending her brain into overdrive.

“Um,” Wanda says, feeling her eyelashes fluttering. She can practically feel her heartbeat as it pulses strongly through her veins, her whole body feeling weightless with need. “Something about you biting it for me.”

Because Wanda is looking at the older woman’s lips, she sees the way they curl into a pleased smile. She finds herself desperately wishing that Natasha would kiss her, and feels her heart rate spike as the woman leans in closer.

Her lips graze Wanda’s as she speaks, the scent of cinnamon wrapping Wanda’s brain in a pleasant haze. “You understand that as a Dominant, I have rules, yes? If you comply, you’ll be rewarded. If you disobey, you’ll be punished.”

Wanda’s eyes dart over to the rack of long canes as Natasha speaks. Somehow, she isn’t frightened at the thought. Rather, she feels herself growing excited at the prospect. Sure, she’d read all about the BDSM community, even visited different blogs and websites where Dominants and Submissives shared their experiences, but actually being in a dynamic?

God, it was the most thrilling and exciting thing she’d ever considered.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda forces herself to concentrate. She wants to give in, to let Natasha take control and make her feel good, but she resists. “Can we talk first? I just… want to make sure we both understand what we want.”

Leaning in fully, Natasha leaves a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips before fully pulling away. Her eyes are gentle, a pleased smile on her face. “Of course, I’m glad you asked. Would you like to talk over dinner?”

Nodding, Wanda lets her tongue wet her lips, wishing she could taste more of Natasha’s lips against her own. She never thought she’d have the opportunity to explore the more… kinky, hidden desires she had.

But now, looking at Natasha Romanoff in front of her with her perfect red hair and dark green eyes, surrounded by all of the tools a Dominant could need at her disposal… Wanda felt nothing but excitement. She also felt a strange fuzzy feeling threatening to take over, but she adamantly pushed it to the back of her mind. She needed a clear head for this discussion over dinner.

—

Watching Natasha cook had been a surreal experience. For some reason, Wanda had assumed that she would have a cook to do everything for her. After all, that’s what rich people do, right? Natasha had chuckled when Wanda voiced that thought, telling her that she did have a cook, but it was rather late at night.

Wanda had glanced at the clock, her eyebrows shooting up at the numbers that read 9:37 above the stove. She hadn’t realized so much time had passed, but she quickly forgot about the late hour as she watched Natasha prepare what looked to be a warm grain bowl.

“There’s a bottle of white wine with a green label in the rack,” Natasha said, gesturing in the direction of her wine rack. Wanda looked, catching sight of it as she stood from her spot at the table. “Would you mind grabbing it for me? There are glasses in the cabinet above the rack.”

“Of course,” Wanda murmured, watching as Natasha turned the stove off, sweeping the baby tomatoes she’d cut into a bowl. Carefully, Wanda grabbed the wine bottle and opened the cabinet. A limited selection of glasses told her that Natasha didn’t host many large dinner parties, but the glass was cold and heavy against her fingers. Selecting two wine glasses, Wanda made her way back to the marbled kitchen table, slowly setting the glasses down with the bottle in between them.

“Where is your corkscrew?”

Natasha looks over her shoulder at Wanda’s question, her features soft in the kitchen lighting. Wanda feels her heart melt slightly, the relaxed line of the older woman’s shoulders setting her at ease immediately. She can almost envision Natasha like this many years from now, completely comfortable in her own space as they make dinner together. Shaking that thought from her head, Wanda grabs the corkscrew as Natasha speaks, her fingers gesturing towards a drawer while she carefully pours the steaming quinoa from its pot on the stove into a large bowl.

They don’t speak, a comfortable silence lingering as Natasha sets the table, Wanda’s fingers only slightly shaking as she uncorks the wine, refusing to think about how expensive the bottle is.

It’s not until she’s almost halfway done with her bowl that Wanda finally speaks, the wine she’s been sipping on giving her courage. “I have a few questions.”

Natasha pauses, setting her fork down and gently wiping at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes are intent and focused, locked on Wanda as she tilts her head slightly while her hands rest casually on the table. It’s an open stance, and it makes Wanda trust her even more.

“Ask whatever you like, Wanda. I don’t intend on keeping secrets from you.”

Wanda feels the urge to leap across the table and crash her lips against Natasha’s when she says that, but luckily keeps her cool and casually sets her fork down as well. Well, she tries to at least, the metal clangs slightly against her bowl, and she curses her shaking fingers.

She’s not… scared, exactly. Mostly just nervous and slightly intimidated by the powerful, knowledgeable woman in front of her. Not to mention, she was a Dominant, and Wanda had never exactly interacted with someone from the BDSM community before. She really didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Do you want a romantic relationship or just a Dominant and Submissive relationship?” Wanda asks, trying not to cringe at her bluntness.

Nodding thoughtfully, Natasha takes a deep breath before responding, the only sign of her emotions is the slight tightening of her fingers around her fork. “I want both.” She says, her words firm but her eyes searching Wanda’s with an almost nervous energy.

It’s strange, to see someone so confident looking at her like this. Wanda doesn’t know how to feel, but she knows that she’s grateful for the vulnerability that Natasha is showing. After all, expressing your true desires and emotions is a scary thing, Wanda understands that.

“So do I,” Wanda says, smiling at the relieved expression that washes over Natasha’s features. “Although, I will admit that I’ve never really been in a relationship with a Dominant before.”

Smiling, Natasha takes a sip of her wine. “That’s perfectly alright, Wanda. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it’s rather exciting to be the one to introduce you to this dynamic. If you’d like that, of course.”

“I would.” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think about them. She means it, every word. This was something she didn’t know she needed, but ever since Natasha had shown her this side of her, especially her playroom, all Wanda could feel was an intense, deep craving.

She wanted this. Wanda wanted to explore everything she could with Natasha. She wanted to build a lasting relationship with her, one built on trust and love and a deep understanding of each other. Sure, it wasn’t like the conventional relationships she was surrounded by, but Wanda didn’t quite care. She wanted to be happy, and right now, Natasha Romanoff was the only person she could see herself truly being happy with.

“Perfect,” Natasha says, taking another sip of her wine, her green eyes intent and hot as she watches Wanda.

Wanda can’t quite focus after that. She compliments Natasha on the food, of course, as it was one of the best meals she’s ever had, but her mind is elsewhere. The only thing she could think about was the way Natasha’s lips had felt against hers and the intensity of her eyes as she watched her look around at the various toys and tools in her playroom.

The wine is making her head slightly fuzzier than usual, her nerves dissipating as they talk about random things. She learns all about the art Natasha has hung up in her office, and even enquires about the all-blonde staff.

Natasha laughs at that, telling her that she hadn’t exactly planned it out that way, but most of the qualified candidates for each various position just happened to be blonde. She doesn’t even mind when Wanda tells her about how out of place she’d felt during their first meeting, or about how awkward it was to walk into her building for the first time.

After a while of mindless chatter, Natasha asks a question, one that turns Wanda’s blood to ice.

“Are you a virgin?”

Her cheeks burn, embarrassment and insecurity flooding her. What if Natasha didn’t think she was experienced enough? What if she wasn’t good enough, or worse, if she made a mistake and ruined everything? Doubt consumes her, but Wanda forces herself to breathe, to calm the raging emotions inside her. She can’t let fear control her now, not when she’d gotten so far already.

“Yes.”