Wanda and Strange

[x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com]

Deciding enough time has passed, Wanda and Strange visit his mostly abandoned house to take stock.  And Wanda suddenly wants to discuss the one thing she never does - them.


The yard was ... not dead.  Wanda stood on the sidewalk, hands on her hips with her motorcycle helmet dangling from her right hand, and stared in amazement at the green grass.  She'd fully expected the lawn to be brown as a desert when she'd agreed to meet Stephen at the little house he owned; after all, it had been months since she'd been able to come on by and it was probably only by sheer luck that the grass was still alive (or the building still standing).  She smiled a little in a mix of disbelief and relief as she headed up the drive.

After their first break-up, he'd asked her to take care of the place while he was away and she had, even doing so once they'd reconnected ... and then broken up again.  Thinking back through the years, she couldn't help but laugh as she reached the door.

The door opened before she needed to knock. "I heard your motorcycle," Stephen offered by way of explanation as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Hello, love. I'm glad you could make it."

"As if I would stay away," she murmured, accepting the one on the cheek before turning her head so she could capture his mouth with hers.  After a moment, Wanda broke the kiss and brushed past him into the house.  "Besides, when was the last time you were back within these walls?  I would not miss your 'homecoming' for anything.  Well, maybe a demonic invasion but I think I would have a good excuse."

"Your work has a habit of cropping up at inconvenient moments," he reminded her, following her inside. "But at least this time, our timing works. As for the homecoming... I do admit it's strange. It's been so long." Years, in fact. "I can't help but think I had more white goods before, however."

Wanda twitched.  Just a little bit.  "Weeeeeeellll," she stretched out, dropping the helmet on the floor with a soft thunk.  "And a sofa ...  it was right along that wall.  We had sex on that couch, remember?"

He coughed a little. "Indeed I do." There was a rather roguish grin despite the slight embarrassment. "It was rather... memorable. But I do appear to have been the victim of a rather odd burglar. One with a taste in beaten up old furniture."

Amusement showed on her face as Wanda sank into a couch that had been left before and started to toe off her boots.  "Have you not been in my study recently?" she asked, laughing outright now.  "I came home one day and found that couch seated neatly behind my computer desk and I have been using it as a seat ever since.  Now, who might have had an annoyance with you and could have easily absconded with your belongings without most people noticing?"

He put his hand over his eyes and groaned. "I have never known any one to hold a grudge like that girl. Thank heavens she's safely away at Oxford." He dropped the hand and gave Wanda a pitiful look. "I suppose it's too much to hope she left the electric kettle? So I can offer you tea?"

"Oh, she took that as well but I brought it back," she said, still laughing.  Using her toes, she nudged the boots away from her so she could stretch out her legs with a groan.  It had been too long since she'd taken the motorcycle out and her muscles were displeased with her.  Wanda look at Stephen with a quirked smile.  "I figured it would be the first thing you looked for whenever you returned."

"You know me far too well, Wanda," he said fondly. Having someone know him like that was by far the best thing about a relationship. Well, that and the crazy gypsy sex, but that thought was one not to be voiced.

Shoving herself up from the couch, she padded after him to the kitchen and while he went in search of the electric kettle, Wanda hopped up on a counter.  There was plenty of empty space and she grimaced as a small puff of dust fluttered down to the floor.  "I think I may have forgotten to dust," she commented with a laugh, wiping her hands on the knees of her pants.  

"The thought of you brandishing a duster is both terrifying and erotic," teased Stephen as he set the kettle to boil. "I'll clean up later. That is, if I still have a vacuum cleaner."

"Men - always thinking about French Maids whenever a feather duster comes up in conversation," she teased back.  "And no worries about the vacuum cleaner, love, it was far too practical a thing to abscond with."  Wanda watched him with amused fondness as he puttered around the kitchen; it was all so very ... domestic.  A word she would have run from, gladly, not too long ago and she wondered if she shouldn't feel uncomfortable.  They'd never spoken much of where they stood with each other outside of the, apparently temporary, break ups.

"We are the products of our upbringing and the French Maid is a classic," he replied with a smile and only a touch of pink around his ears.

"It is nice to see that I may have debauched you utterly," she responded, managing to remain straight-faced.

"And it has been thoroughly enjoyable."

"Has it been?" she asked quietly, head thunking back against the kitchen cupboard.  "I dragged you across the entire globe at one point, dear, chasing after someone I have yet to find.  And lately, nothing seems to have gone right ..."  The after effects of Genosha still lingered as did their most recent exploits.  Wanda's shoulder still made funny popping noises after that ice giant had dislocated it during the fight.  And suddenly, Wanda realized, she was trying to ask questions of her relationship that she had never bothered to ask.  Had never wanted to ask.

And all she wanted to do was run.  Instead of running, though, she slid off the counter top and, muttering to herself in Rom, wandered through the house without waiting for Stephen to respond, heading towards the little office that he hadn't been back to yet.

Strange finished making the tea, letting her have a moment before following, mugs in hand. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, standing in the doorway.

She was standing in the middle of a smaller room, also filled with books, and it had clearly been used more recently than any other room.  Though it, too, had fallen into some disrepair as she had less and less time over the years to come to the house.  "I have always been aware that I am, at heart, a rather selfish person," Wanda said slowly, picking up a dust covered book.  This room had become ... a sanctuary of sorts.  A place to recharge.  "I am generally rather comfortable with that knowledge.  Until now."

Wanda turned back to him, hands still loosely wrapped around the book.  "We have been moving forward, both in professional pursuits and not so professional, at my pace.  And I seem to be wondering now what it is you want."

"I suppose if I say something terribly sentimental like, 'I want what you want', you'll throw that book at me?" he replied, with another of his half-smiles. He came in and set her tea down on the desk, leaning against the edge as he wrapped his hands around his own mug, contemplating her and her words. "I suppose I haven't been exactly proactive about things lately, have I?"

"When have I given you the chance?" she asked, half-teasing, though she did put down the book in favor of the mug of tea.  "We have both been guilty of being reactionary, I suppose, but for once, it seems to be quiet.  We might not get this chance for a while now and ... I wish to know what you want."

"Honestly, dear heart? This is what I want. What we have here and now." He gestured with one hand, encompassing the room and the house beyond. "Be it sitting quietly with you here at home, or traipsing across the world on one mission or another. I think sometimes you forget I am older than you - I've had the chance already to pursue my career, and then I spent several years travelling the world righting magical wrongs. I still have ambitions, but they tend to be rather smaller than they were thirty years ago."

Righting magical wrongs.  Wanda's lips twitched a little - Dr. Stephen Strange was not the type of person she thought she'd end up with but she couldn't say he didn't make her smile.  "I forget the age difference if only because there are days where I feel simply ancient," she sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of her face.  "The children that I watched over as teenagers are now watching over teenagers of their own.  Which I know you find rather hysterical."

He chuckled. "Oh, I really do. The thought of Amanda tormented by her own students... poetic justice for all these grey hairs she created." He leaned over and brushed his lips over her forehead. "Perhaps, my love, if you are feeling so ancient, your body is telling you it is time to stop for a while? You are not part of a team for nothing - your friends can help with your search, you know."

"Mmm, as much as that sounds lovely, you know I will not be able to stop until we find her," Wanda said, turning her body so that she could lean against Stephen.  "Or stop doing other work until we find her.  It is not only her that I owe it to but to myself, too.  I was never very good at letting things go."  She chuckled into his shoulder.  "Which worked out to your benefit, of course."

"Then you will have to accept the fact that I'll be right with you, wherever you go, helping you look for her." He slipped his arm around her waist. "And enlisting help when we need it. I won't let you drive yourself into the ground, Wanda. No matter how hard you try."

She took a deep breath, getting the scent of the tea mixed in with the light cologne he wore, and slowly let it out.  "I would not have it any other way, my love."  A slight move tilted her head just enough to allow her to actually look at him.  "And now that you have indulged my rather rare emotional flare up, I think we should commence with the sex.  Our tea can be reheated in the microwave."  Wanda's brow furrowed.  "If Illyana didn't teleport that to Siberia, that is."