you are in love | wandanat

too in love to think straight ౨ৎ

"Are you excited?" The soft vibrations have become a fond sensation as you peer out of the car window and admire all of the buildings that you pass. You're not in the best area, one of the worst actually, but you find something so calming about the construction crowded roads and graffiti covered storefronts. You've been stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for the last half hour, a plethora of detours and u-turns standing in your way of where you really wanted to be, but every time Natasha eases her foot back onto the gas and shoots between lines of cars that don't have the balls to make the move themself, you hum in contentment. You're okay with being stuck if you're stuck with them.

They'd been promising you this day for months, and although it had been canceled two weeks ago when you came down with an unexpected cold that left you miserable and bed-ridden for three days, it was finally here. There was no time left for another extenuating circumstance to push the date back farther. You hadn't stopped bouncing in the backseat since Wanda had affectionately buckled your seatbelt, your fingerprints are smeared against the backseat window from how you point out the exit signs that mean your destination is growing closer. Natasha had long since stopped asking you to refrain from touching the glass she kept spotless, looking back at you through the rear-view mirror with fondness whenever a lull in speed occurred. Now was one of those moments. The line of cars all waiting to merge back onto the Garden State Parkway kept the car still, the break was applied heavily and wasn't going to be let off soon. Unlike the other times she had looked back at you, she craned her entire body now, and you grinned at the easy way about her expression.

Your fingers left behind the glass of the backseat driver side window to press firmly against the tip of her nose, wanting to see it scrunch up in annoyance like it always did when you poked it. Natasha was less compliant with your need for physical touch then Wanda was, but she allowed you small victories every once in a while. Today was one of those days where everything seemed to fly. You had eagerly pulled her around the house all morning, sat in her lap at breakfast, and all but forced her to help you dress when you decided picking the perfect outfit was too hard to do on your own. The women had immaculate taste in fashion, you supposed it was something that needed to come with their high-profile occupations, but you'd never complain about them making your old clothes look fresh and new without adding anything tasteless or unnecessary.  You hadn't wanted to be apart from her since your eyes had peeled open at seven, the excitement in your belly too strong to ignore despite Wanda telling you that you wouldn't be leaving the house until eleven. You were so beyond grateful that Natasha had been serious about taking you out when her and Wanda's schedules allowed, that it didn't matter to you if your earlier than usual wake up time meant having a full four hours to merely sit around and wait.

You nodded your head at her simply asked question, bearing a smile that compiled a list of words you'd be happy enough to use in a sentence if she so desired. She didn't though, you knew she was well aware of how excited you were and was merely pulling your leg because she herself was bored. There was no way she could be oblivious to your hyperactive movements when your feet kicked the back of her seat every handful of minutes, but she'd not asked you to stop only rolled her eyes in fond exasperation and murmured to Wanda about the copious amounts of fingerprints and scuff marks she'd have to tend to later. Natasha and traffic were not things that should exist in the same sentence. For as patient as the woman was, she quickly lost her composure when 'assholes in black hondas don't know what the fucking speed limit is'. The first time she'd bellowed in annoyance you'd shook your head and giggled into your hand, your eyes connecting with Wanda's who had glanced back at you in a silent threat to not egg Natasha on further. You'd tried to keep your amused reactions to yourself after that, but it was hard not to laugh at Natasha's annoyance for anyone going under eighty miles an hour; especially considering the speed limit was only sixty-five.