paper bags -- a wandanat au

day one: i suppose that was the beginning of it all

A/N -- hiii if you're from my last fic, welcome back. a new one as promised, sorry it took so damn long, writers block is a bitch. just a quick little warning, my first language is not english, my computer is not set to english therefore mistakes will not be caught by spell check, so PLEASE correct me if need be. anyways enjoy my second wandanat fic!! 

"And why did you feel that way?" I stir in my seat, deathly uncomfortable, shrugging slowly. I don't want to be here. I don't want to talk to anyone, especially a complete stranger who was literally getting paid to  listen. Tony's words echo in my mind, 'being standoffish will get you nowhere.' He didn't think I knew that? Did he really think I cared. I push some hair out of my face further revealing a mess of smudged eyeliner that I haven't even attempted to clean in a couple of days.

"Dunno." My accent seeps through as I focus on holding back tears instead.

"It seems you are afraid to be vulnerable with her?" She leans forward, glasses sliding down her thin nose. I shrug again, unwilling to make eye contact, "are you afraid that if you are vulnerable with her, she'll leave you, afraid of losing her like you lost your brother?"

"Pietro was different." I snarl, scowling back up at her.

"Of course. Pietro's death was a tragic accident." I scoff again, crossing my arms like a stubborn child, "but I think his death is causing you to fear losing the ones you love, in any way. Whether that be in death or in life." I look down, counting the cracks in the cherry wood floor beneath my feet. "You are afraid of letting her see you, Wanda. Why do you think that is?" I don't know. The worst part is, even though I coward into the shadows, she did. She saw me, she didn't ask questions, she just saw me and somehow I feel like she understood. We never talked much, she knew nothing of my past, I knew nothing of hers. All we knew was each other. It felt, at least on my end, peaceful. A step away from reality into some place where these kinds of questions and mundane therapy sessions were tacit. We never had to ask. There was so much I never said, yet she understood. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. My mind is flooded as I shake my head rapidly at the floor.

"It doesn't matter now." I inhale sharply, meeting her eyes for the first time, "She's gone."

                                                                                                 ***

I remember the first time I saw her. Short wavy red hair bobbing up and down just above her broad shoulder blades. She was wearing a rather conservative dress, black with tight long sleeves and a turtle neck. A gold necklace clung to her chest paired stylishly with golden hooped earrings. By some miracle, she noticed me. I remember meeting her eyes from across the room. Sound filtered out of my ears, people walked slower as the deep hazel of this strange woman's eyes seeped into mine. She offered me a tight lipped smile, so small I almost didn't catch it. I don't remember if I smiled back, I probably didn't. My first regret. I remember willing her to come over to me. I wanted to know what her voice sounded like, what her eyes looked like up close, was her skin soft or rough? Did she smell sweet or twangy? I had never seen anyone so intriguing at one of Tony's lavish get-togethers. It was always the same crowd, men, the majority of them white and muscular. Intimidating to me for some odd reason. There was one I had always liked, Steve. He was tall and blond with the traditional blue eyes and masculine features. His friend James, who Steve had lovingly nick-named Bucky, I didn't mind either, although he never spoke. He had the same wistful look in his eye that I had known all too well from my own reflection. That fateful night I was sitting away from the crowd, alone on a bar stool. I was incredibly confused when the woman I had seen earlier took a seat next to me, waving the bartender over with a delicate hand. I don't remember what she ordered I just remember hearing her speak to me,

"Parties not your thing?" She attempted to converse. I shook my head shyly,

"I suppose not." I was surprised at my own courage to respond. She nodded at me, her full lips quirking up into a smile as if she knew she had accomplished something by my response.

"You're one of Tony's rescues?" She sniffs awkwardly rephrasing, "I mean, you're one of the people who escaped from that Hydra cult...? I haven't seen you around before."

"I haven't seen you around before either." I dodged the question cleverly. One thing she did that no else ever had, she dropped it. She understood that I didn't want to talk about it, so she dropped it.

"That's because I don't drop by often." She explained, "and when I do, it's normally not for long." She took a sip of her drink as her head swiveled back to me. "But I'm gonna have to be around here a lot more now." I caught myself relaxing at that thought.

"What is your name?" I realize now that was kind of an awkward subject change. She didn't seem to notice though, 

"Natasha." She held out a steady hand for me to shake. After a moment of hesitation, It did. I shook Natasha's hand, trying not to grip too hard, but also trying not to appear weak. I think I may have over-thought it. Her skin was a bit rough, not dainty like many would expect. The chill from her skin clashed with the heat of my own causing my spine to tingle inconveniently. I took my hand away at the sensation. "What's yours?"

"Wanda." I had never really introduced myself to people here. Normally they knew who I was. The poor woman Tony saved. But Natasha truly didn't know my name, I could tell as her expression shifted. It wasn't an expression or realization, just simple curiosity.

"That's a nice name." She commented, holding eye contact. Normally I would be opposed to such prolonged eye contact but I powered through for her.

"Thank you." I meant it. "You said you would be here often?" I casually brought up.

"Yeah, Tony offered me a job." She nodded at the bartender to refresh her drink. "I will be full time, crime fighting, whatever the hell he does in this big ass building of his." She paused stirring her drink with the tip of her nail, "Do you stay in the facility?" I nodded, "You like it here?"

I nodded slowly, contemplating the question, "I do. It's better than Hydra." I decided. Natasha chuckled awkwardly, I was sure she was wishing she never struck up a conversation with me right about now.

"I bet." was her response. "I'm gonna be staying in the facility too." She continued to my pleasant surprise, "Finally getting out from the grip of my psychotic roommate will be nice. But then again, I am going to have several more roommates here."

"You hardly see anyone else who lives in the facility unless you are supposed to." I assured her.

"Well." She turned to me smirking, "I sure hope that isn't true." The gravel in her voice caused heat to swell up in the pit of my stomach as I timidly tore my eyes away from hers. I suppose that was the beginning of it all.