Safe Place

7: This Girl Talk Thing

Wanda's POV:

I change into real clothes - not pajamas or sweatpants, but jeans and a tank top. I have no idea how all this clothing got here, and it's not really my style, but I'm fine with it. I could use a change anyway.

I study myself in the mirror before putting on a couple touches of makeup, not as much as I used to wear, but enough to darken my eyes and smooth out my blotchy skin. I feel like me again, which is both surprising and familiar - the weirdest combination of emotions. 

I step over my door and pad down the hallway. It's surprisingly twisty, but I find my way to the kitchen in a couple minutes. In the fridge, there's a Tupperware with a stack of pancakes, so I stick two on a plate and heat it in the microwave. I've watched enough TV and seen enough of the world to know how to do normal-life things, but it still feels foreign. It feels like I'm playing pretend.

I sit at the counter and lift a forkful of warm pancake to my mouth. It's surprisingly delicious, and before I know it, I've finished the entire plate. Well, guess I was hungry.

I stay there for another moment, letting the little rays of sun stream through the window. It's pleasant outside of my room. 

I'm so caught up in the warmth of the sunlight that I don't notice a figure slipping up behind me. When I hear footfalls, I freeze.

"Hello, Wanda," a voice says. I spin around, powers at the ready, and face an alarmed-looking Vision wearing a sports jacket and pressed khakis.

"Oh," I say. "Sorry. Hi."

"No trouble. It's good to see you out of your room. You're looking...very nice."

"Oh! Thanks!" 

Vision comes up beside me and takes my plate and fork, clearing them to the sink and then washing them for me. "It's fine, I can do it," I tell him, but he just shakes his head and dries them off.

"I'm afraid I have to go meet with Mr. Stark," Vision says in his clear voice. "But Wanda, perhaps we could spend some time together later?"

I blink. "Sure. Sounds good." I shoot him a double-thumbs-up - which is kind of weird, but whatever - and he chuckles before disappearing through the wall. Okay, then, I think I've gotten the hang of social interactions. Good job, me.

"Wanda!" a woman's low voice exclaims. "Look at you!"

I turn to see Nat, now dressed in a tank top and bike shorts and drenched in sweat, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She crosses the room and gives me a quick hug, and my entire body freezes. My skin feels hot and tight. I must not be used to hugs yet.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and chugging it. Her hair swings past her shoulder blades in a wave of red curls.

"You have such pretty hair," I blurt, before clapping a hand over my mouth. Ugh, why am I being so awkward?

Nat looks at me for a moment before gazing carefully out the window. "Thanks. So do you." 

"Thanks!" I say, weirdly enthusiastic, and her eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit. She has very well-defined eyebrows, a quality I've always considered impressive.

I cannot deal with this right now. I was doing so well, talking to Vision, and then Nat walked in, and she must be way too cool for me or something because I want to crawl out of my skin. 

"So, what's up?" I say coolly, playing with one of my braids. 

"Just finished training. Gonna shower, maybe watch TV, maybe go shopping. I need a new pocketknife and a new bathing suit."

"Ah, that's cool," I say brightly. I am nailing this girl talk thing. "I haven't been shopping since I was ten!"

Aaaaaand I ruined it.

Nat's face crumples, just barely, before she smooths out her features. "You wanna come? I could use a buddy."

"Oh! Um, sure! When should I..." I trail off, a little uncertain about what, exactly, is happening.

"Let's leave in an hour or so. Maybe we can get you some stuff while we're at it, hmm?"

"Hmm," I agree. She cocks her head prettily, her eyes glinting.

"Okay, then," Nat says, and she turns on her sneaker-clad heel and leaves. I think there's a ghost of a smile on her face, which puts a whisper of a giggle in my throat, but I force it down. I'm already being weird enough.

I go to my room and sit on my bed, thinking about what a graceful person Nat is. It's a random thought, but something about the way she carries herself - it's regal and gentle at the same time, which is definitely not what you'd expect from an assassin.

I guess we're going shopping.

I really have to figure out this girl talk thing.

Why am I so nervous?