How To Save A Life | Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff

2.

Upon walking into the candlelit cabin, Natasha can already see just by the state of the kitchen how bad it's gotten for her friend. There's copious bottles of wine and beer and other alcoholic beverages, a lot of which have been smashed up into small pieces, presumably from any breakdowns Wanda might have had. Anyone who knows the witch knows that the easiest way for her to find release is to break things. Whether that's physically destroying something, or tearing herself apart on the inside bit by bit. Sometimes her mind is her worst enemy.

The bottles aren't the only thing the assassin takes note of, it would be hard not to miss the open cabinets with hardly any food in. There's a few boxes of things here and there, mostly cereals or plain crackers, but nothing much else. And judging by the lack of light coming from the fridge, there's nothing in there.

If it wasn't clear to Nat that Wanda hadn't been taking care of herself before, it certainly is now. Anyone could see from the state of this house that she's not well.

"Alright..." Natasha says hesitantly, thinking of where to start. "First thing's first, we've gotta do something about this smell," she decides, her nose not being able to handle the stench of the strong drinks.

The discolored windows almost come off their hinges when she attempts to push them open, this house hasn't been built the sturdiest.

"Too bright," complains Wanda, shielding her eyes from the sudden intrusion of illumination.

"You'll get used to it."

The older of the two is leaving no room for argument. If there's any hope of nursing Wanda back to health, there's going to be non-negotiables and Nat is stubborn enough to ensure they stay that way.

Wanda almost finds it annoying how stubborn Natasha can be, it's impossible to argue with her because she always wins.

"I'll take this, thank you." And with that, the empty gin bottle is out of the witch's hands and thrown into the bin, followed by several others going in after. "Where do you keep your broom? I need to sweep all this glass up. Unless you wanna give me a hand and use your wiggly woos to do it?"

Oddly complying, there's the slight click of fingers snapping before red swirls cover the ground, clearing up every last bit of shattered glass and liquid that has been left laying on the floor.

"Wonderful," Natasha says, almost smugly for she knows she now has control over Wanda. Not in a manipulative way, but it just means that she can parent the girl. Prior to going slightly off the rails, Wanda would see Nat as not only her best friend, but a mother figure in a way, too. That mainly stemmed from when Pietro died and the witch needed some kind of adult to help her adjust to her new life as an Avenger, her older friend was happy to take on that task.

Next thing she knows, Wanda's being handed a full glass of water, expected to take a sip. But of course in protest, she instead slams it onto the countertop, just light enough so it wouldn't smash. That would mean more cleaning up.

"Witchy, drink," Natasha orders and picks the glass back up before holding it to Wanda's lips.

"No."

"It'll help with your hangover."

"I won't have a hangover, because I'm going to drink more wine."

The two women are at a stalemate. One wants her friend to do what's best for her and take the water, and the other wants the complete opposite and would rather drown away her sorrows in an unhealthy yet effective way.

"I think you might find that difficult since you've drank it all," Nat sasses, a slight smirk making its way to her face. "There's no more bottles left, Wands. Which personally, I think is a good way to start. From now on, this is a dry house. No alcohol is to be brought in and that is final," she asserts and again, there has been left no room for haggling.