Love and War (Wandanat)

Wanda: Vodka and Hairbrushes

Wanda watched Nat as she strode into the bedroom a few seconds before she did. She certainly doesn't seem to care that I'm here. Wanda thought as she heard the zipper of Nat's suit and the slap it made as the wet material hit the floor. She walked in quickly, careful to keep her eyes focused on her closet.

"What the hell do you even wear under that thing, Romanoff?" The guys had asked about Natasha's suit on many occasions. Every time Nat just flashed Wanda a knowing glance before saying, "You boys will never be lucky enough to find out." At this the girls would always break into childish laughter. Evidently, she didn't wear anything under the suit.

Wanda remained focused on finding a dry set of clothes, throwing her dress and red leather jacket onto the chair near her bed. She had stolen the jacket from Nat's room at the old Avengers tower. It was right before the team went to confront Ultron in Sokovia. Nat had never said anything about the jacket, which was unlike her.

After she was dressed, Wanda went to sit on her bed, wrapping a blanket around her still-cold legs. Nat had turned around, still running a brush through her rust colored hair. "Do you want me to take care of that?" She said, gesturing to the cut above Wanda's brow.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Nat put down the brush and walked out of the room to get the first aid kit she usually kept in there.

Wanda took her absence as an opportunity to check the state of her own hair in the mirror. It had started to dry, becoming frizzy and matted against her head. She took Nat's brush and started running it through her dark locks. She cursed as her hair got tangled up, yanking painfully on her head.

"Yikes," she jumped, "You know Steve doesn't like that kind of language." Nat had appeared again behind her, a small red box in her left hand and a bottle of clear liquid in her right.

"Is that vodka?" Wanda nodded to the bottle in Nat's hand, noting the label.

"We ran out of hydrogen peroxide and this was the closest thing." She set the box down and unscrewed the top of the bottle, taking a swig. "Besides, cleaning cuts hurts like a bitch so it's good to have a bit of liquor in you."

"I don't mind it in me, but I'd rather you stay sharp while attending to my face." Wanda snipped, plucking the bottle out of Nat's hand and gulping down a bit herself.

"Sit down, Maximoff, " there was an edge to her tone. She pointed to Wanda's bed and moved out of her way. Wanda smoothed the duvet with her free hand before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, her feet barely touching the floor. She took a few more sips from the bottle before handing it back to Nat, who dampened a cotton pad with the liquid.

Natasha wrung out the pad, though a drop of it still fell across Wanda's thigh as she moved it to the cut, rubbing over it gently. "Sorry," Nat said as Wanda winced, sucking in air. Despite the alcohol starting to set in, Wanda's forehead still burned as the vodka made contact with her skin. There was pity in Nat's eyes as she worked. Her face was close enough that Wanda could see her pupils as they dilated, focused on her own face. Natasha reached down to grab a small bandage from the box and laid it across the cut, biting her lip slightly in concentration. Wanda couldn't help but stare at them, perfectly full and pink. Natasha's hand moved to push a lock of hair away from Wanda's forehead, her hand lingering a second too long against the side of Wanda's face.

Nat's expression sobered for a second as she cleared her throat. "There, now that pretty face of yours can heal properly." She moved her hand down, but Wanda grabbed it before she could stop herself. They both looked at their joined hands, eyes caught by the sudden movement.

Ever since she had become an Avenger, Wanda had felt a certain closeness to Natasha. Everyone assumed it was just because they were the only women on the team. Wanda thought it might also be because they had similar life experiences, and their shared trauma had led them to support each other in a way the guys couldn't.  But this, what she was feeling right now, must have been more than just close female friendship.

She remained still, her fingers wrapped around Nat's. "Wanda-" before Nat could even get her name out, she lunged forward, closing the space between Nat's lips and her own. The contact sent a jolt all the way through Wanda's body. Nat's lips were soft and warm against hers.

Suddenly clear-minded, Wanda pulled away with enough force to send her head reeling. Nat looked shocked, exhaling sharply. Wanda's eyes grew wide with fear. "Oh my god," her thick Sokovian accent rang out, "I'm so sorry." God, what had she been thinking? She shouldn't have done anything. Why did I drink the stupid vodka?

"Don't be," Nat's low tone cut into the panic running through Wanda. Their lips collided once more, the hesitation from before gone. She guided Wanda's hips roughly with her hands, pulling her further onto the bed and into her own lap.

Wanda breathed in her scent, the dull sweetness of her skin mingling with the smell of rain left from the roof. Her lips parted slightly, then opened fully for Nat, who now had one hand in Wanda's hair and another still on her hips as she started to rock.

Next thing she knew, her palms were flat against the wall, one on either side of Nat's head. She had no recollection of how they had managed to move all the way across her mattress, but she was too occupied with Nat's mouth to wonder any further.

"Wait, wait," Natasha pulled back again for a second. "This isn't just the vodka, is it?"

"No," Wanda almost whined, desperate for more contact. Nat relaxed further, planting kisses along Wanda's jawline and tracing her throat with her thumb. Wanda threw her head back, a low moan escaping her. Natasha gave a satisfied grumble as she licked and sucked at a sensitive spot on Wanda's neck.

Natasha's hands moved down to the hem of Wanda's black tank top. She yelped as Nat dragged a finger across her stomach, near her hip, causing her muscles to tighten. She raised an eyebrow at this, and Wanda felt her cheeks flush. "Don't get all shy on me now, Maximoff," she said.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, letting her hands roam over Nat's back and kissing her once more.

"Miss Romanoff."

"Oh my God," Wanda nearly launched herself off the bed. The voice was clearly somewhere between robotic and human.

"What is it, Vision?" Natasha looked angrily towards the synthezoid.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but Mr. Stark sent me up here to make sure the girl got in safely." He glanced over to where Wanda was now standing next to the bed. 

"Clearly she's fine," Nat gestured to her.

"Very well then," Vision turned to leave.

"Vis," Wanda piped up, "maybe don't tell anyone what you saw up here." She didn't need the guys to know about something she wasn't sure she understood to begin with. There would be questions, questions she didn't know how to answer about her feelings for Natasha.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Vision flashed her a knowing look before phasing through the wall, right next to the door that was still closed.