When Spies Collide // WandaNat Spy AU

New Orleans

The turnaround was rapid. Only a few days of preparation were permitted before the threat posed by the biological weapon grew too great to delay any longer. Energy readings were berserk and the agency needed to nip it in the bud before the public found out and inevitably panicked. Luckily, a SHIELD scout team previously stationed in New Orleans managed to swipe schematics of the facility the squad expected to infiltrate, and the organization itself spared a few operatives to help contain this weapon of mass destruction. Plans laid out, weapons cleaned and loaded, plane fueled, all that remained was the operation itself.

Though on an incredibly speedy SHIELD jet, the flight from England to Louisiana was anything but quick to Wanda, and it lended far too much time for thought. Undoubtedly, this was the largest job of her life. If she succeeded, she'd be a hero, if she failed, though, countless civilians would perish. This couldn't be left up to her, to some rookie. Wanda was capable, sure, and kept a calm, cool exterior, but this was beyond out of her league. She was a federal agent, not a superhero, and the weight resting on her threatened to be too much to bear.

Natasha, on the other hand, felt only a steely resolve that this mission could not would not fail, no matter the cost. Though her shoulder's ache had subsided greatly, the memories of the young scientist haunted her. The scared, youthful eyes turned lifeless in half a second, body thudding to the floor. This would be different. It had to be.

Subconsciously, the two women found each other on the plane, taking their seats on the small, uncomfortable chairs. Neither noticed the other for a while; Wanda was wrapped up in her anxiety, Natasha in her stoic focus. Eventually, though, the sound of Wanda's boot heel clanging against the metal floor as her knee bounced was too much to ignore. The redhead placed a cautious hand on the hyperactive knee, causing Wanda's head to jerk in Natasha's direction, eyes a little wild.

"You alright?" Natasha whispered.

Wanda deflated, slumping in her chair and throwing her arms above her head, hands running through her hair. "Not really."

"I would ask why, but... I think we both know."

Spiraling slightly, Wanda sat back up in exasperation. "What if we fuck it up?"

"We won't."

"But what if we do?"

Annoyed, Natasha gripped Wanda firmly by the jaw. It wasn't rough contact, but enough to snap her out of her thoughts. "We won't."

Surprised, though not off put, by the other woman's firmness, Wanda inhaled deeply and sat back, earning a satisfied nod from her counterpart.

"You can't go spiraling on me now, Maximoff. Not when we're so close."

"Sorry," Wanda mumbled, eyes lingering on Natasha's hand as it brushed against her thigh. Shaking her head to clear the butterflies, she asked, "how is your shoulder today?"

Natasha winced. "It's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it actually hurts less than I thought it would."

"Really? I'm starting to think that you're half terminator."

"Three fourths, actually," the redhead joked, earning a slight smile from Wanda. "Doesn't hurt as bad as the slug I took to the thigh once."

"Oh yeah? What's the story there?"

Natasha shook her head. "I'll tell you after we save the world. That tale is better over a few drinks."

Wanda hummed, laying her head back on the small seat's headrest, exhaustion creeping in. Anxiety and sleeplessness drained her, and rest before the operation would do Wanda some good. "I'm going to hold you to that."