Possession

The Offer

The following morning, Wanda woke you with a littering of kisses and a coffee. She forced you into town with her, despite your opposing desires. You'd have much preferred to stay home and lounge for the day, but Wanda seemed adamant to get out, so you caved. You walked hand in hand, pretending to be interested in her shopping. You weren't huge on retail therapy, so she was occasionally picking outfits and pieces for you to buy. You agreed to every one in order to please her.

You scaled the aisles, running your fingertips along the surfaces whilst waiting for Wanda, who was trying clothes on in the fitting room. You imagined she'd be a while, considering the formidable stack of outfits she hauled in with her. You turned the corner, your mind absent and wandering until you felt the press of a sharp blade on your abdomen and a presence close behind you. The edge was tearing your shirt, making contact with the flesh beneath.
"You'll walk with me. Come back for your girlfriend later."
You'd recognise her voice anywhere now. Natasha.

You tilted your head to face her gaze.
"You could just ask."
Holding your hand against hers, you pulled the blade away - which she allowed, surprisingly. She moved from behind you, walking by your side through the aisles. Her face was stern, an everlasting gravitas plastered her appearance. You giggled a little, stifling the noise with a cough as if Natasha wouldn't notice.
"Something funny ?"
She raised her brow at you, tensing her knuckles round the knife. Clearly, you'd already irritated her.
"You're always so serious. To me, it's funny because you're significantly shorter than I am. Bit like an angry toddler."
She flashed you a disapproving look, coming to a halt and facing you with her arms folded.
"You've met me twice, counting this interaction, and you're already passing judgement on me ?"
She continued on, shoving a key into the lock of a cleaner's closet, turning and pushing it open.
"I guess. You look a lot taller in photos, by the way."
She sighed, visibly rolling her eyes as you walked in behind her. She closed the door quietly, locking it and pocketing the key, leaving just you and her alone in the dim room. Upon some odd reasoning, you felt hardly unsettled. Naturally, you should feel somewhat intimidated being cooped up in a secured space with your father's newfound enemy - knowing all too well that she's a perfect match to you, combat wise.

She glared at you, examining your stance as you leant against the racks.
"Are you always this laid back ? I mean, aren't you even a little nervous...scared ?"
Natasha seemed vexed by your attitude. Perhaps she wasn't used to others not being intimidated by her. Before you could answer, she interrupted.
"Never mind. I don't wanna hear it."
She shuffled on her feet, playing with her pocket a little. An empty silence stuffing the room.
"So...why did you drag me here."
You couldn't help the sarcasm that cluttered your tone, despite being overly aware that it bothered Natasha. She huffed before providing her answer.
"I want to lay an offer out on the table. I didn't know how else to approach you."
You nodded, astonished by her civility.
"Oh really ? An offer. Sounds exhilarating." you pushed yourself from the racks, pacing the room with your back to Natasha, adapting a condescending tone in your speech as you mocked her offering.
"Oh what could it be Miss Romanoff ? Eternal peace between our quarrelling families ?"

All of a sudden, she had pinned you against the farthest wall, the blade pressed to your neck, digging into the skin - no doubt drawing blood. She had pressed her face to the back of your head, her mouth beside your ear as she spoke.
"Make one more joke, Stark. I swear, I will kill you."
Her voice was deep and hoarse. It was dark and her tone was grave. Perhaps it was this that made up for her lack of height.

You sighed into a light giggle, which only inclined her to press the edge of her knife further into the skin of your neck. You could feel the sting of your opened flesh, the familiar contrast of a cool blade and your heated blood.
"You won't kill me."
You laced your arm through hers, pulling her away from you. The movement left a cut on your throat as her hand was dragged away. She attempted to writhe out as you twisted to face her, pinning her wrists against the wall. You pushed upon the pulse point of her left hand, forcing her to drop the weapon. She winced under your grip, staring you straight in the face as you grinned wickedly - letting her struggle beneath you. As you alleviated yourself from her, she tensed forward, grunting as you pushed her back, holding her hands above her head. You leant against her clasped wrists on the wall, speaking down to her.
"Let's not fight anymore, sweetheart. Aren't we too old for this ?"

She touched your fingertips, intertwining her hands in yours. You felt a dampness between your palms having transferred from Natasha's - the blood from your neck.
"God, you're so like your father. You shouldn't joke so much."
You shrugged, staring at her, waiting for continuation.
"I want you to leave Stark. Come work for me and my people. You'd be my right hand...woman."
You laughed, properly this time, astounded by her request.
"You want me to leave, my own father ?"
"I promise, it's for the best. Better pay, better deals, better team. We'll take your father down eventually - I'm not offering you security, I'm offering you salvation. When we overtake you, I'll need to kill you, because this offer will no longer exist."
You backed away from her, resting your hand on the doorknob.
"Open this for me, now."
She remained still, panting as she inspected your demeanour.
"The answer is no and it'll always be no. I don't care how adamant you are that you'll overrun us."
Slowly, she approached you, pushing the key into its lock. She stood before you, touching her thumb to the bleeding wound on your neck.
"You're making a mistake, Y/N."
You swiped the key from her hand, turning it yourself and pushing the door open.
"I've made a lot of those, Natasha."
As you went to close it over, she grabbed your arm, holding you in place.
"The next time I see you, you're dead, Stark."
You smiled at her weakly, pulling yourself free from her grasp before turning from her.
"I guess I'll meet you there."

You pushed the door shut before rushing to the nearest bathroom, hoping Wanda hadn't finished her try ons yet. You held your palm to your neck, desperately trying to conceal and clot the bleeding. Passerby's gave concerned looks in your direction as you sped past the crowds. You burst into the quietest lavatory, standing before the first mirror. In the reflection, you noticed the shine of a familiar red-head.
"Oh my god, Wanda ?"
She turned, eyes wide at your state before joining you in front of the mirror, holding her hand to your neck as you ran damp paper towels under the tap. You noticed her eyes were welling as your blood coated her fingers.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's just a lot of blood because it's my neck. Little bit of pressure and it'll stop."
You removed her hand from your throat, clasping it in your own. She was shaking lightly, her lip trembling a little as she stood - speechless. You held the towel to your neck, pressing gently as the bleeding finally subsided.
"What's wrong ?"
You pulled the blood dampened towel from your neck and chucked it in the bin, ridding your hands of the red stains in the sink before taking her in your arms.
"What even happened, Y/N. One minute you're outside waiting for me to try on clothes, the next you disappear and return with bloody hands and a sliced neck. It's scary being with you."
You frowned, a little hurt by her comment. You were well aware of how difficult it was for your partners, yet you still hated hearing it. You pulled her into your chest, running your clean hands through her hair.
"Come on, you gotta wash your hands."

You leant over her, your feet planted firmly behind her as you wrapped yourself round her stomach - running the tap over her hands, watching the scarlet liquid run down the drain. You pulled a towel from the dispenser and dried her hands gently, tossing it away before turning her to face you and taking her in another embrace. You towered over her, her back to the mirror as she melted in your arms. She pressed her face into your chest, shutting her eyes, leaning in unison against the bench of sinks. You examined yourself in the mirror, holding Wanda in place, running your fingers through her hair. Silent tears stained your cheeks as you stared yourself down in the reflection. You hated the way your life made those round you feel. Wanda didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve the risk that came with you. The doubt, the uncertainty - you wondered how long she'd stay. How long she'd tolerate it.

You heard light footsteps enter the bathroom, perhaps Wanda had ignored them. Either that or she was too caught up in her emotions, as she stayed glued to your chest. You examined the reflection, a grim taste swirling in your spit as you watched the figure take a step into view.

Natasha smiled grimly, standing from afar, watching as you comforted Wanda. Her hands were smothered in your blood, with the odd drab staining her outfit. She looked you right in your eye, her expression turning sour as she noticed your hands in Wanda's hair. She moved to take a step forward, only to stop as you shook your head at her - refusing to turn, only observing her from reflection. You took one another in for a moment, soaking in the remaining seconds left of relative graciousness between you.

She turned on her feet, her eyes falling to the floor as she exited - her boots making a small screech against the floor. Wanda came to attention at the sound, peering up at you.
"Is someone there ?"
You pulled away, resting your hand on her jaw.
"No, baby. No one important."