Wanda and Jake - Monday morning

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Wanda and Jake finally make up. Backdated to Monday morning.



With a groan, Wanda rolled over in bed and shoved the various pillows and comforter off of her head. And immediately regretted it as the sun poured into her window, through the shades that were at an angle (she remembered Scott driving her home and then giving up on the fight with the blinds). The pounding in her head was intense from the combination of lack of sleep and all the drinks she'd had with Jean.

Even so out of it, the fact that there was something on her window didn't go unnoticed. Gingerly, she sat up and squinted at it through the sun and a clump of hair. After a minute, she sat back with a soft "Oh", smiling a little at the giant lettering of "KNOCK KNOCK" on the paper.

Ten minutes, a robe, two cups of coffee and a glass of water later and Wanda was knocking on Jake's window, leaning her head against the sun warmed brick of the building and trying not to drop the pot of coffee and box of strudel she was carrying.

There was no movement in Jake's apartment for a long moment, long enough that Wanda began to fear she might fall asleep with her forehead against the wall, before a pajama-clad Jake stumbled into the bedroom, blinking in the sunlight. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before crossing over to the window to let Wanda in, reminding himself that he had put the note up and she did appear to be carrying pastries of some sort. And coffee.

"Hey," he said with an uncharacteristic shyness, reaching out to take the coffee or strudel or both.

She let him take the coffee but held onto the strudel box, in part so he wouldn't potentially drop one of them but also because it was always good to have a bargaining chip. "Hey," Wanda responded, ducking so she could pull herself in through the window. Even with the two cups of coffee, she still looked peaky and tired, noticeably pale even with her normally tanner colors.

Jake backed up a few steps so she could slip in through the window but a combination of the robe and her state meant she didn't notice that the bottom of the robe had gotten caught on the windowsill. With a surprised yelped curse, instead of the slow but graceful entrance, Wanda tipped in with surprising speed. Reflexively, she grabbed for Jake and hung on, trying to avoid getting scalding coffee dropped on her head or ending up face planting on his floor.

"Hey--!" Jake yelped, his free arm wrapping around Wanda's waist automatically in an attempt to steady her, the coffee pot held as far away from the pair as possible. There was an awkward moment as he held her there, both of them off-balance and unexpectedly close, trying not to put hands in uncomfortable places (as Jake moved his hand up from where it had accidentally landed on Wanda's ass). It was followed by another awkward moment as the pair untangled themselves gingerly, with Jake nearly suffocating on Wanda's hair until he was able to take a step back. Once his hand was free, he ran it through his hair, the coffee nearly forgotten in his other hand. "Um. Good morning?" he tried.

Wanda looked up from where she had been glaring balefully at her now ripped robe, looking a bit sheepish. She also had a bit more color in her face but she shook it off, contributing it to the sudden rush of falling through his window. After all, Maximoff's did not blush, it was unheard of! "It will be after some more coffee," she said and then shook the box of pastry gently at Jake. "I brought breakfast?"

Normally, Maximoff's didn't do uncertain, either, but she was. But more importantly, she was tired of floundering and of being crabby and of drinking too much just because someone wasn't talking to her. She was in her thirties, not in her teens.

"I like breakfast," Jake said, but it was without the usual enthusiasm that accompanied him around baked goods. He looked down at the floor, trying to figure out what to do or say next--this whole fighting and making up thing was new to him, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to acknowledge the weirdness or pretend it never happened. He glanced at the pot in his hand, then held it up towards Wanda like an offering. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please." It sounded pleading and needy even to Wanda's ears but she didn't care. Tea wouldn't help, not with the amount she'd had to drink the night before. Days like this made her think cutting back might be a good thing. Her hands turned the box over a few times as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry I killed your cake."

Jake didn't answer as he led the way into the living room, clearing a spot on his cluttered coffee table for the coffee pot and balling up the blanket that was draped across the couch--all evidence that Jake hadn't been sleeping in his bedroom much lately. He disappeared into the kitchen to fetch a pair of coffee mugs, as well as cream and sugar, trying to figure out how to reply to Wanda's apology.

"It was just cake," he said finally, sitting down on the couch. He glanced up at her, then away again. "It's okay."

"I'm not sorry for being mad," Wanda said, almost hugging the mug of coffee to her chest after she'd filled it, looking almost content as she breathed in the thick scent of hot coffee. "But I probably overreacted. Maybe."

She took a sip just for something to do, wondering if she was just putting her foot in it more or if she was simply softening. Two apologies so soon? The idea that she was softening, potentially letting down some more of her guard to these people, had her clenching the mug in a spasm of panic before it settled. She'd let them in years ago, maybe she was just dealing with it now.

He shrugged. "You're not the first person to think that I needed a punch in the face." Jake meant it as a joke, but he was too tired and hungover, both physically and emotionally, to make it work.

He sighed and put his coffee down. "It's just been a bad couple of weeks," he said, rubbing a hand across his face. "I think I've overreacted or underreacted to every single thing that's come my way."

"I know how that is, I do," Wanda sighed, curling up on the couch and tucking the robe around her legs. "And you had every right to be upset about Jean-Paul's condition and what happened to him - to be honest, I had just put my foot in it with Nathan and some of my anger may not have been directed at just you." She was still upset that he had said what he had and hoped that Jake realized he needed to apologize for it. But it wasn't up to her to press.

He pulled his legs up to his chest at the mention of Jean-Paul's name, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees. The phone call he'd had with Nathan felt as if it'd been years ago, and at this point, Jake wasn't quite sure what he needed to apologize for. Furthermore, he wasn't quite sure how things stood between him and Wanda. "Are we in a fight?" he asked finally, tilting his head to look at her.

Wanda leaned her head against the side of the couch because it felt too heavy for her head to hold up. "I suppose we could still be," she admitted. "But I'm too tired to fight. So, I do not want to anymore. Do you, since I did break your cake? And your nose, I always forget about that."

It should say something that they were both more concerned about the cake than about his nose, but he wasn't quite sure what. "I don't want to be," he answered tiredly. "I'm not even sure why you and I are fighting instead of Nathan and me. And..." He swallowed. "I missed you."

Oh, good, she hadn't been forced to say it first. Carefully, Wanda leaned towards the coffee table so she could put down her mug. When she was satisfied that it wasn't going to tip over, she shifted and crawled over to Jake's side of the couch. "I missed you, too," Wanda said, shoving at his arm so she could slip under it and against his chest, fitting despite how he was sitting. "We're done fighting, then."

Jake wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tight; other than the night he'd spent drunk and moping to Jubilee, it was the most physical contact he'd had in several days. After the intensely physical relationship he'd had with Jean-Paul, he was almost starved for touch--something he didn't want to think too closely on. "Good," he said into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Let's not do that ever again."

"I promise not to come in through the door again." Her voice was a bit muffled from where she had her head tucked against his chest but she sounded a bit more like herself, a bit cheekier. "I'll keep coming in through the window, I suppose." Something that had been making her shoulders tight since the had argued finally loosened. Whatever issues the two guys still had, she was more than content to keep out of it. For once.

"Good," he said again, resting his cheek against her hair, relaxing into Wanda. God, he was tired. Sleeping on the couch and spending the weekend drunk hadn't done anything to make him feel better. He stretched out with his free hand, extending his reach until he could snag his coffee cup from the table. He took a contemplative sip, his other hand toying with Wanda's hair. "You know what's really stupid about this whole fight thing?"

"Which part?" she murmured, shifting so that she could stretch out lengthwise on the couch without lifting her head much. The curse of long legs meant she became very cramped, very quickly. The couch wasn't long enough at the moment, so she just hooked her feet over the top. Wanda was as tired as Jake looked, which was a feat in and of itself.

Jake set his coffee down and shifted so that Wanda could lean on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. "There wasn't really any point," he muttered. "He doesn't want to talk to me anymore."

At that, she stilled and closed her eyes. "Oh Jake, I am sorry." Reaching over, she grabbed the hand that had just put the coffee down and gripped it with her own. "Did he say why?"

He shrugged with the shoulder she wasn't leaning against. "They fucked up his head, and he doesn't think I can handle the aftermath. He's probably right," he said miserably.

"I think anyone would have a problem with the aftermath," Wanda said slowly. "It is never easy when someone you care for gets hurt and to such a degree ..." She sighed. "I would take physical damage over mental any day. It is so much harder to pull yourself out, to be okay."

He was quiet for a long moment, still running his fingers through her hair. "It would've ended anyway, I think. He wanted to Talk About the Status of Our Relationship when he got home from Tel Aviv." He didn't bother trying to sound like it didn't bother him, not with Wanda. "I didn't want more, and I don't think he was happy with less."

She nodded, completely understanding. The complications of a relationship were something she tried to avoid now, after the breakup with Stephen. It was why she had ended the one with Kurt when she had - the complications had been building. "I'm sorry," she repeated, squeezing his hand. "You really have not had a stellar week, have you?"

Jake smirked tiredly. "You could say that." He pulled her closer, nudging the box on the table with his toe. "Hey look, someone brought us breakfast."

"Mm, and a topic change, how convenient." Wanda patted him on the chest and untangled herself, sitting up so she could reach for the box. She shook it at him. "It's a strudel of no more fighting, followed with some coffee of ... you know, I am far too tired and hungover to be witty. But it was very good coffee."

"A strudel of no more fighting, followed by coffee of I was an idiot, sorry?" he asked ruefully.

Wanda perked and saluted him with the box. "Brilliant. And now, we feast before dragging our sorry carcasses to work."