The two men stood locked in that narrow space, the air between them thick with the scent of damp wool and raw, masculine heat. The "slow" plan hadn't just been abandoned; it had been incinerated by the sheer proximity of two decades of unspoken tension finally finding a vent.
Will’s large, calloused hand stayed rooted to Miles’s jaw, his thumb continuing that slow, agonizingly rhythmic stroke through the silver-white beard. With his other hand, he maintained his grip on the zipper of the jumpsuit, having peeled it down far enough to expose the sturdy, golden-furred barrel of Miles’s chest. The contrast in the dim light was striking—the wet, obsidian curls of the Alaskan grizzly pressing against the bright, dense pelt of the Irishman.
"You've been holding out on me, Miles," Will rumbled, his voice a deep, vibrating bass that resonated against the bulkhead behind them. "All those years of professional distance... I had a feeling the 'Chief' was hiding a beast under that uniform."
Miles let out a low, shaky huff, his own hand tightening its grip on the wet forest of Will's chest. "And I thought the 'First Officer' was all charm and jazz trombones. I didn't realize you were carrying around enough thermal energy to power a Class-M planet."
Will didn't respond with words. Instead, he ducked his head, his nose grazing against the side of Miles's neck, inhaling deeply. The scent was intoxicating—soap, sweat, and the primal musk of a man who worked with his hands. Will's tongue darted out in a slow, tasting flick against the salt-slicked skin just above Miles's collarbone.
Miles gasped, his head snapping back against the metal as the "Irish Monster" surged with a violent, pulsing throb. The friction of the damp jumpsuit against his lower half was becoming unbearable.
"The bed, Will," Miles rasped, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt the heat of the Alaskan's breath against his skin. "If we don't get to the bed, I'm going to take this bulkhead down with us."
Will pulled back just an inch, his smirk wider and more predatory than ever, his blue eyes blown wide with a hunger that was finally, completely unregulated. "I told you, Captain. Structural integrity is my specialty."
He reached down, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Miles's boxers and the open jumpsuit simultaneously, and began to guide the shorter, sturdier man toward the waiting "big bed" just three feet away.
—-
Miles didn't just walk to the bed; he paused for a split second, his calloused hand reaching back toward the wall-mounted console near the door. With a sharp, practiced tap of his thumb, he keyed in the final command. “Computer, engage full autopilot. Maintain current warp factor. All non-essential alerts to silent running."
The console gave a low, obedient chirp. The Pulaski was locked in, screaming through the black on a tether of pure math, leaving the two men in a vacuum of their own making.
"Now," Miles rasped, turning back to the massive, wet presence of Will Riker. "The ship is taken care of. Which means the Captain is officially off duty."
Will didn't wait. He moved with the sudden, surprising speed of a predator, his large hands catching Miles by the waist and hoisting him the last few inches onto the "big bed." The mattress groaned under their combined mass: two broad, hairy men who had spent far too long pretending they weren't thinking about this very moment.
Miles fell back against the pillows, the slate-gray jumpsuit finally peeling away completely as Will’s heavy hands worked the fabric down over his sturdy, woolly thighs. The "Irish Monster" was finally freed, spring-loaded and rigid, a blunt testament to the decade of suppression Miles had endured. It stood proud against the silver-blonde thicket of his groin, pulsing in time with the low hum of the warp core.
Will hovered over him, his knees on either side of Miles’s hips. The water from his damp pelt dripped onto Miles’s chest, a cool contrast to the furnace-heat of their skin. Will’s gaze traveled slowly down Miles’s body, taking in the powerful, hairy barrel of his chest, the sturdy legs, and the "unregulated" hardware standing between them.
"My God, Miles," Will rumbled, his voice thick with a raw, Alaskan hunger. "You’ve been hiding a powerhouse down here."
Miles reached up, his fingers sinking deep into the salt-and-pepper forest on Will’s chest, pulling the larger man down. "Less talking, Alaska," Miles growled, his Irish lilt dropping into a guttural command. "The sensors are clear, the autopilot is set, and I’ve been waiting long enough for this 'maintenance' cycle to begin."
Will let out a low, vibrating growl and sank down, his bearded mouth finally crashing against Miles’s in a kiss that tasted of Kona coffee, salt, and absolute, devastating surrender.
—-
The heat in the cabin was so thick it felt structural, a pressurized atmosphere of salt and musk that was seconds away from a total blowout. But just as Will’s weight settled fully against Miles, the melodic, aristocratic chime of the computer pierced the silence like a cold needle.
"Oh, Little Ones!" Lwaxana’s voice trilled, sounding exasperatedly motherly. "As much as I appreciate the... rhythm of your current activities, I’m afraid the lower starboard nacelle is having a bit of a tantrum. Warp plasma is leaking at a rate that is frankly quite rude. If you don't attend to it, we’ll all be glowing as bright as a Betazed sunset. And not in the romantic way."
The effect was instantaneous. The two men froze, their chests heaving against one another. The raw, primal energy of the moment hit the icy wall of chief-engineer reality.
"Fuck!" Will barked, his voice a gravelly explosion as he rolled off Miles, his bare feet hitting the deck plates with a heavy thud.
"Double fuck!" Miles roared, sitting up so fast he nearly cracked skulls with the Alaskan. The "Irish Monster" was still raging, a rigid and defiant pillar of frustration, but the "Chief" had already taken over the "Lover."
They didn't waste a second. In a chaotic, synchronized blur of salt-and-pepper and silver-blonde fur, they scrambled for their gear. There was no time for finesse; it was a frantic, undignified wrestle with fabric.
Will let out a breathless, booming laugh even as he cursed, his large, hairy hands shoving his "restless" hardware back into his briefs with enough force to win a wrestling match. Miles was right beside him, his face a mask of concentrated intensity as he zipped his jumpsuit up over his own hard prick, the heavy-duty fastener snagging briefly on a stray golden hair.
"I told ye she was a high-performance machine, Alaska!" Miles wheezed, his lilt thick and manic as he yanked his boots on. "She’s jealous! She saw us getting comfortable and decided to vent some frustration of her own!"
Will zipped his own jumpsuit to the chin, his blue eyes dancing with a mix of adrenaline and hilarity despite the emergency. "Jealous? Miles, your ship has the personality of my mother-in-law and the timing of a Romulan assassin!"
They burst out of the quarters together, two massive, rumpled, and half-aroused veterans charging down the corridor toward the engineering crawlspace.
"Computer!" Miles yelled over his shoulder as they ran. "Cut the snark and give me a containment field on that leak! We're coming down!"
"Do hurry," Lwaxana’s voice echoed through the ship, sounding like she was suppressed a giggle. "The radiation is terrible for the complexion."
The next morning, Lando pulled up to the curb outside her apartment building in a car that, by his standards, was modest. A sleek, black Audi RS5 — not one of his usual hypercars, certainly nothing that screamed money the way some of his other rides did. But still, he caught the way her eyes widened just slightly when she stepped outside and spotted it.
Noted.
She hesitated for a second, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder before walking toward the passenger side.
“This is… a nice car,” she said as she climbed in, running her fingers lightly over the smooth leather interior.
Lando smirked as he pulled away from the curb. “Yeah? You like it?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s pretty.”
He chuckled. “Pretty isn’t usually how people describe it.”
She shrugged, glancing out the window. “I, uh, really don’t really know cars. Obviously. I mean, I’m sure you can probably tell. This one looks cool though.” A pause. “Fast, I’m assuming?”
“Very.”
She made a thoughtful hum, then—almost absentmindedly—reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place a second time, as if double-checking that it was secure.
Lando raised a brow but didn’t comment. Instead, he stole a quick glance at her as they hit a stoplight. She looked reserved, like she was still trying to figure him out.
Which, fair enough. He was trying to figure her out too.
“So...” he started awkwardly, drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “How’d you sleep?”
She made a face, lips pursing in mild contemplation. “Not terrible.”
“That’s not a good answer.”
“It’s not a bad one either.”
Lando huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll take it.”
For a few beats, there was only the sound of the city waking up around them—traffic, pedestrians, the occasional honk of a horn.
Then, casually, she asked, “Do you do this often?”
“Do what?”
“Drive your friends to class.”
You idiot, she mentally facepalmed herself. What kind of a question even is that?
Lando smirked, eyes flicking toward her. “No. You’re the first.”
That seemed to throw her off. “Oh.”
He could practically see her debating how to respond to that, and for some reason, it amused him. He let the silence stretch a little longer, let her stew in it before adding, “You should feel special.”
That made her huff a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I’ll be sure to brag about it to my classmates.”
Lando smirked. Yeah, he liked this. The slow push and pull of it. The way she wasn’t quite sure where to place him yet.
He shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as he was.
They fell into another brief silence, the kind that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but still carried something clearly unfamiliar. She was still adjusting to him. He was still adjusting to whatever this was.
“So… you don’t drive or somethin’?” he asked, cutting through the quiet.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Why’s that?”
“Never got around to learning, I guess.”
Lando raised a brow, sparing a glance at her before switching lanes seamlessly. “Never?”
She gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I mean, I get the concept of driving, obviously. I just… never had the time. Or the skill, for that matter. Not my thing, I’ve learned.”
Lando clicked his tongue, amused. “You’re missin’ out, you know.”
“I think I’m surviving just fine without it.”
“Surviving,” he echoed. “But not thriving.”
That made her laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lando smirked, but there was something else in his expression—something bordering on curiosity. He didn’t know why, but the thought of her not driving was oddly... something. It made her seem a little more untouched by the world he lived in.
And for some reason, he liked that.
Before he could dwell on it too much, they pulled up near the university. He idled by the curb, glancing over at her.
She hesitated for a second before reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride, Liam.”
He nodded. “Anytime.”
She lingered just a beat longer, like there was something else she wanted to say, but instead, she just gave him a small smile before stepping out.
Lando watched as she disappeared into the crowd of students, exhaling slowly.
He shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t have let him.
But maybe she breathed a little easier with him around.
The first few drives were awkward in the way that new things always are. She didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and neither did he.
Lando had never been one for small talk, and she—well, she wasn’t exactly shy, but she was still guarded in that way people were when they weren’t sure what to make of someone yet.
So, at first, the car rides were quiet. Not uncomfortably so, but just enough to make the silence noticeable.
She’d fiddle with the strap of her bag or stare out the window, while he kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. He never pushed her to talk, and she never forced a conversation when there was nothing to say.
But then, gradually, things shifted.
It started small—little observations, little questions that didn’t seem to mean much on the surface. She learned that Lando wasn’t much of a morning person, but he hid it well. That he always had a coffee before heading anywhere, but he never really finished the whole cup.
One morning, she was fidgeting with the strap of her bag when she casually mentioned, “You drink a lot of coffee.”
Lando raised a brow, eyes still on the road. “You work at a coffee shop.”
“Yeah, but you don’t even get anything different. Always a spiced black coffee.”
He smirked. “And?”
She huffed. “And that’s… boring.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s simple. Gets the job done.”
“You could at least try a latte. Maybe an espresso macchiato. Something.”
Lando gave her a sidelong glance. “Didn’t take you for a coffee snob.”
“I’m not! I just think it’s a waste to keep drinking the same thing over and over when there’s so much out there that you could try.”
“Right,” he drawled, but the next time he stopped by Brews & Books, he ordered a macchiato just to see the way she lit up in satisfaction. He pretended not to notice when she gave him a subtle, knowing smile.
One evening, after her shift, Y/N climbed into the car and sighed, tilting her head back against the seat.
“Long day?” Lando asked, pulling away from the curb.
She made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “You have no idea.”
“Try me.”
She huffed but didn’t hesitate to launch into a story about a particularly difficult customer, waving her hands for emphasis as she spoke. Lando listened, offering the occasional smirk or amused hum, but mostly, he just let her talk.
“Some guy came in today and asked if we had any books on taxidermy.”
Lando glanced at her, amused. “And?”
She huffed, slumping slightly in her seat. “And I don’t know why we do, but we actually had two.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You sound distressed.”
“I am distressed. Who’s coming into a cozy book café and thinking, ‘You know what I need? A book about stuffing dead animals.’”
Lando smirked. “Hey, at least they’re reading.”
She shot him a look, and he found himself biting back a grin.
She rolled her eyes at him before exhaling dramatically. “Anyway. That was my day.” Turning her face to see him better, she added, “How was yours?”
Lando arched a brow. “You want to hear about my day?”
She shrugged. “I mean, you always listen to mine. Fair’s fair, no?”
He could’ve given her a lie—could’ve made something up about a business meeting or a gym session.
Hmm, let me think: drug deals, a back alley brawl, and a private execution all in time for dinner with my gang of co-criminals.
Instead he settled on, “S’alright. Nothing special.”
She gave him a look. “Boo. That’s vague.”
“That’s the point. Obviously,” he deadpanned, the ghost of a smirk upturning the corner of his lips. Y/N rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.
The rides kept happening. Sometimes he’d show up unannounced after her shift, sometimes he’d send a text a few minutes before her class let out. It wasn’t always planned, but it was consistent. And that was what mattered.
He learned that she liked the window down, just a crack, no matter how cold it was outside. That she was a little clumsy when she was tired—nothing dramatic, just small things like fumbling with her seatbelt or nearly dropping her phone when she got in the car.
One evening, after picking her up from a late shift, he noticed the way she rested her head against the seat, eyes slipping shut as soon as they hit the first stoplight.
“You can sleep, you know,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “I won’t let you wake up in a ditch.”
She smiled sleepily. “That’s reassuring.”
But the next time she was exhausted, she actually let herself drift off.
It was subtle, the way things softened between them.
She started greeting him with a tired but genuine smile in the mornings, a quiet, “Hey, Liam,” as she settled into the car.
He started recognizing when Y/N was in a mood—when she was stressed about school, or irritated about something that happened at the shop. He never asked directly, but he’d say things like Long day? or You wanna grab a coffee before I drop you off? and she’d answer without thinking, without that usual hesitation.
And Lando… Lando didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Because he didn’t do things like this. He didn’t let people take up space in his life if they weren’t necessary, and yet here she was.
And somehow, it didn’t feel like an inconvenience at all.
Gantlos: Duman and Stella have probably got into something by now; we should just go home and call this a day.
Brandon: No! No, this is our standalone adventure, Gantlos! We are going to be defined as more than the damage control boyfriends! We’re gonna be more than just the piece of eye candy with an ass that just won’t quit, and the crazy arsonist that hates a dog! We’re gonna be the guys that went on an adventure so great that everyone flocks to us at parties just to hear us tell all our stories over and over in a giant loop of awesomeness! So come on! Let’s go make some really bad choices!
Gantlos: …That was actually pretty moving, honestly.
"I think they feast on magic!" Fluttershy cried out as soon as she saw Twilight. The alicorn was rightfully stunned by this sudden intrusion.
"...What?" She raised an eyebrow.
"N-None of the unicorns become infected. P-Pinkie got to Rarity, and b-broke off her horn! She ATE Rarity, Twilight! She ATE HER!" Fluttershy cried frantically, beginning to hyperventilate.
"But... That means that every unicorn with reasonably strong magic is in danger!" Sweetie said, briefly breaking through the shock of seeing her sister become food in front of her. They didn't have time to mourn their losses. They couldn't with Pinkie, and they certainly couldn't with Rarity. Their current task was just surviving.
"So I guess they really did get to Princess Celestia..." Twilight muttered weakly, before her eyes widened. "We need to work on researching more of that cure. It's our only hope now."
When we made it to the park, I couldn't help the way my heart pounded with anxiety in my chest. I hadn't been around this many people in a very long time. Even in 12 I was given a respectful berth of space, never overcrowded.
I could do this for Lucas though. I just really hope no one recognizes me because I could not handle being mobbed. Venia did an excellent job though, so we should be fine. We walked hand in hand through the grass, looking for something to nibble on while we waited for the show dogs to come through.
After securing some chicken kabobs and a strawberry cream crêpe, we made our way over to the sectioned off area for the show dogs to come out and do their tricks. The crowd was beginning to squeeze in a bit tighter, making me scoop Lucas up into the crook of my right arm, up securely onto my hip. I needed to keep him safe and my emotions in control. He was my anchor.
The cheers begin to raise as the dogs come out one by one, each a different breed, more beautiful and exotic than the last. Some were bred with other species of Capitol creatures, some could fly, some breathing puffs of fire. Lucas is in awe, as he cheers and screams in perfect time with the performing pooches. Some were actually pretty impressive. I'd managed to snag a cookie stick and lemonade from a passing vendor cart, to keep him happy and hydrated, earning a toothy grin as he chomped away happily.
When they call for a volunteer, I can see Lucas practically bursting at the seams. So despite my terror, I grab him by his little waist, and shoot him a wicked grin before launching him high into the air above my head.
He shouts 'me' as loud as he can, with all three tosses, grabbing the attention and admiration of all the little ones around us. I try to ignore the goosebumps that break out over my skin at the dozens of eyes that are now watching us with humor.
"Well alright, looks like we've got our volunteer! The little tiger over there in the blue, come on over here!"
I immediately pick him up, placing him on the other side of the small barricade and pat his back.
Summary: The journey of a soldier made anew, riddled with the guilt of his past and on a steady path to redemption.
Warnings: Violence, injury, mild language, more warnings as the series progresses.
Word count: 5.1k
a/n: Quite a big stepping stone for Wanda and reader this chapter, a heartfelt moment that changes the nature of their relationship. Hope you guys enjoy it!
//
Chapter thirteen
New Avengers Facility, The compound
It had been a few weeks after the Sokovia tragedy, and everything had begun to settle down. Hulk had gone MIA and turned off the Quinjet’s tracker so that he couldn’t be found. Stark relief foundation had been working endlessly trying to find all the Sokovian civilians new homes and making sure they had access to proper healthcare after the incident.
The team had officially offered you a place as an Avenger, you were a viable asset, and they’d need you fighting their corner; but you were still considering their offer. You didn’t know if you were ready to make a decision like that right now. You’d been alone for so long; working with a team was so unfamiliar to you.
Everybody had taken a well needed break, Thor returning to Asgard to be with his family and the others taking some time away from fighting. Sam had heard of what happened in Sokovia and decided he wanted to be there for Steve from now on, therefore making him an official Avenger.
You, however, felt as if you couldn’t catch a break. You hadn’t completely finished your recovery period when Steve had asked for your help and you hadn’t gone back to Wakanda since; so the nightmares were still in full force, jolting you from your bed every night in a cold sweat. You spent most of your time in the training room to get your mind off things and it tired you enough to grant you a few hours of sleep before the night terrors woke you.
Since you’d returned, the air between you and Wanda had been… very still. She had her own room at the other end of the floor you were on meant for the new recruits, but she never left it. She’d sometimes get up to get something to eat but that was it, even then, she did it at times when nobody could see the looming emptiness that had settled in her bones.
You couldn’t blame her; she wasn’t supposed to be here alone. She was supposed to have her brother in the room right across from her. You could tell that the empty room haunted her, she’d walk past it and remember that he wasn’t here anymore. That he never would be.
You hadn’t tried to talk to her. You knew better than anyone that sometimes you’d feel so lost you just… couldn’t find the words. You still felt the same things she did, the ache in your chest whenever you were near her; the grief she couldn’t shake. You hated that she was feeling so much all alone.
//
“I walked by here this morning, and you were in the exact same spot. I’m starting to think I should be a little concerned.”
You held the punching bag by its sides until it stopped swinging, turning to Steve as he leant against the training room’s doorway, “Not much else for me to do.”
Steve nodded, watching as you wiped the sweat from your forehead and walked over to the benches to grab your water bottle, “How’s Wanda?”
You frowned at this, shrugging at him. “How would I know?”
“She hasn’t talked to you?”
You started unwrapping your fists as Steve stared at you, “Did you expect her to?”
Steve uncrossed his arms, walking towards you “I guess not. How have you been?”
You sighed, clenching your jaw as to not lash out at him, his constant questions agitated you but they were of good nature. He was one of the only people who actually cared, you reminded yourself, “I’ve been… okay, I guess.”
Steve was clearly expecting more out of you, but you didn’t know what to tell him. You couldn’t describe how you had been because you didn’t know. You didn’t know if this was you doing good or not.
He relented after a moment, patting your shoulder, “Well, dinner should be ready soon. Will I be seeing you tonight?”
You lowered your head, scratching the back of your neck, “I don’t know…”
“It’s just me tonight, everyone else is out.”, he rushes out, trying to convince you before you have the time to disagree.
You look back up to him, seeing his hopeful smile and biting the inside of your cheek, “Okay.”
//
Dinner wasn’t terrible. You talked with Steve about mundane things, which was… easier. He wasn’t the worst chef, and the food was admittedly much better than the slop hydra gave you. He had given you strict instructions to not go back to the training room tonight, and just to satisfy him, you didn’t.
Instead, you took a slight detour.
You stepped quietly over to Wanda’s door, lowering yourself to the ground and leaning your back against the wall beside it. You couldn’t hear anything coming from the other side, so there was the possibility that she was asleep. You didn’t mind. You hadn’t come to strike up a conversation with her.
You didn’t fully understand what it was that the two of you shared but you hoped that she knew you were sitting there. That you were trying to be there for her.
You’d gotten the same pulsing ache within you as you sat down, and you wished desperately to take it from her. You knew you could handle it and even if you couldn’t take it all; you wanted to take as much as you could. So you could hurt together.
It was likely that she wouldn’t leave the room tonight, so you stretched your legs out, crossing one over the other, and let your eyes slip shut. You couldn’t give her much, but you could give her this.
//
The next morning was even less eventful, you’d been startled awake by a particularly rough nightmare, a slight tremor to you and a sore back as you were still beside Wanda’s door. You’d headed for the gym not long after awakening and you had been in there from the early hours, noticing that Steve had seemingly disappeared considering he hadn’t come to do his routine check on you.
At around ten, you decided to roam the building, really see how much money Stark had. You had been walking for nearly ten minutes and come across an indoor swimming pool, a cinema room which seemed a little unnecessary, a basketball court, and a field track.
There was a lot of option, that’s for sure, but you were more interested in the never-ending running track, and when you got to it, you could admit it was pretty cool. It was a large, grassy area with red tarmac stretched across it and sprinklers scattered around to cool you off.
You had nothing to do today so you figured you’d try it out.
You stepped onto the track and began a slow jog, your intention wasn’t to train necessarily, just to think. You had been doing that a lot lately; thinking for yourself. There was so much you realised you never had the chance to think about, to really understand. It petrified you. There was this expansive mind you had yet to explore, and it was almost too big for you.
You wanted to know who you were, what you liked. The simple things. You feared there wasn’t any of that left to find out.
After a few hours, you decided you’d been in your head for too long and that Steve probably wouldn’t be too fond if he found you doing any form of exercise this late into the day. You maneuvered yourself off the track, stepping into line with one of the sprinklers and letting it drench you.
The cold water helped you come to, all previous thoughts rinsing away with the liquid dripping down your body.
Heading back to your room, you walked past the kitchen, pausing when you heard faint clattering. You peered inside, catching sight of brunette hair and feeling your entire body tense up. You watched as Wanda padded around the room, searching for something; and you were tempted to go in, but you didn’t want to scare her away and ruin any chance of her staying out of her room.
With one last glance, you turned away and continued back to your room.
//
“I just think it’s kind of… I don’t know, unnatural leaving them two alone in the compound. Dangerous even.”
Steve turned to Natasha with a frown, not seeing where she was coming from, “Dangerous? I don’t think it’s dangerous, do you think it’s dangerous?”
She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink, “It’s kinda dangerous.”
Unbeknownst to you and Wanda, Steve had purposefully made sure that the team weren’t in the compound 24/7 and he did it because he wanted to make sure you both felt comfortable enough to explore the compound on your own. You couldn’t exactly do it if there were people walking around and watching you all the time.
Now that he’s hearing Natasha’s opinion on it all, he’s starting to second guess his decision, “I just want them to be- “
Natasha interrupts, “Comfortable. I know, and it’s nice, really, but we’re a team. We learn to work together because that’s what we do for a living. How are they going to learn that if the aforementioned team is never there?”
Steve looks away sheepishly, “They have each other.”
“And neither one of them talks.”
Steve sighed, now seeing that she was right. He took a sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat. He had invited Natasha out for coffee as a means to get her out the compound, and while it was a genuinely nice outing, he had too much on his mind to enjoy it completely.
Natasha leans forward, placing her cup onto the table, “They’re adults, Steve. They know what they’re doing.”
Steve looks back to her, sitting up similarly to her, “But that’s the thing, they’re both still kids, Nat. Their experience doesn’t make them any older. I just hoped they’d find some comfort in one another.”
“It’s gonna take a long time for them to come around. This isn’t something that’ll happen overnight. I mean, it took you seventy years to come join us so, I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”, she smirks at that last part, Steve returning it.
“Alright, very funny.”
Natasha chuckles, raising her hands in surrender, “I thought it was kinda funny.”
Steve laughs, his eyes trained on her as she smiles back at him.
Natasha quiets down at his stare, resting her chin on her hand, “What?”
Steve just shakes his head, looking down, “We should probably get back, huh?”
Natasha agrees, rising from her seat and pushing Steve back into his as he tries to stand, eliciting a laugh from him.
//
A few days later
Steve had deemed today ‘team training day’, much to everyone else’s displeasure. He had pulled you to the side and told you that it wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t have to participate if you didn’t feel comfortable doing so, but it was only training so you figured it couldn’t do you much harm.
Wanda on the other hand, she had immediately shut it down.
“I’m okay.”
“Look, I think this could be a really good chance for you to work on your abilities. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of emotion pent up inside of you, this would be an ideal way to get it out.”
Still, to no avail.
Steve had listed off a few more reasons as to why joining would benefit her but she dismissed them all. Eventually, he gave up and let her be. You’d watched him walk into the training room a little less preppy than usual and quickly understood what Wanda’s answer had been.
Again, you couldn’t blame her. A room full of people she barely knew, practicing a skill she also barely knew. It seemed like a lot.
At some point during training, Natasha had slinked out of the room and you were intrigued to know where she had gone. You were a presence Steve would notice missing much quicker though, so you didn’t try to follow her.
You were on weird terms with Natasha. You weren’t friends, but she wasn’t the worst person to be around. She had been there for you in Wakanda, and you were grateful for that, but you still couldn’t trust her.
Steve was the only person you could see yourself trusting somewhere in the far future but that stemmed from a situation you had no control over. Steve knew everything there was to know about you based on your files and what he had seen in Wakanda, not that he’d ever use that against you, but it still unsettled you.
Natasha had returned not long after her leave, slipping into place as if she’d never left and it amazed you how no one bat an eye. She was sneaky, you could give her that. She must have noticed your gaze on her because she turned to you and threw you a small smile to which you nodded in return.
She had a tendency to soften slightly around you and it made you feel like a child. You knew it was pity. Ever since Wakanda, she had begun trying to be extra cautious when interacting with you and you hated it.
She didn’t know you. She may have seen something she wasn’t supposed to but that didn’t mean anything. She didn’t know anything.
She didn’t know anything.
You had to close your eyes for a moment, you could feel those dreaded thoughts coming back and Shuri wasn’t here to tell you what to do. Breath. Breath, she’d say. Why couldn’t you breath?
It all happened too quickly. One minute you were gripping your head trying to quiet down the voices and the next minute, you were advancing on Natasha. She hadn’t expected your attack so she couldn’t dodge the kick to her legs and when she dropped to a knee, you grabbed her by her collar and dragged her to the nearest wall.
The team were all yelling at you to put her down at this point but their words were no match for the ones swirling inside your mind.
You pushed Natasha against the wall so hard you could see the small crack in it from the force, gaze hardening as she watched you in fear. It excited you seeing her so scared of you. She didn’t know you; she didn’t know what you could do. No one did.
“You were stupid to think you knew who I was. To think you meant anything to me.”, your words cut through Natasha like knifes. They were harsh and dripping with hate. You were holding her so tightly against the wall, she couldn’t breathe properly.
“Y/N! Put her down!”
Steve’s shouts fell on deaf ears as you gripped Natasha tighter, you’d strangle her to death right here just to prove how little she knew. And that’s exactly what you planned to do, reaching for her neck before you were tossed across the room. Your back hit the stack of dumbbells at the far corner and as you stood, you saw the fading wisps of red around you.
You stood; eyes locked to the girl across the room. Your fists tightened beside you and your breathing picked up. She clenched her jaw as he stepped closer, hands out and ready in front of her. You turned your head over to Natasha gasping for air against Steve, clutching his arm tightly. When your eyes slid back over to Wanda, her eyes had returned to their normal cool green and she just watched you.
Her eyes didn’t hold any malice, not like you had expected them to. You kept watching them, they were drawing you in like a tidal wave. You could feel the anger dissipating slowly, she wasn’t someone you’d fight. Your chest heaved with your laboured breaths, and you slowly sunk to the floor, hands gripping your chest as the realisation set in.
You had done it again. You had hurt them, again.
Wanda didn’t come any closer, she just lowered her hands and waited. She watched as your hands shook with your guilt over your chest. She could… feel you. It was like she was you in that moment, burdened by the weight of what you had done. It startled her. Your body was wringing itself out, trying to dispel this feeling, it almost hurt.
You stood abruptly and the team all jolted back in defence. You observed their faces. Fear. Betrayal. Confusion. You couldn’t handle it.
By time the lights came back on, you were gone.
//
The team searched the entire compound and had come up empty. Steve was determined to find you and ask what the hell had happened, but he’d never get anywhere if you didn’t come back. He was disappointed, but not in you, in himself. He should have known you weren’t ready for this; he had pushed this on you, and it ended terribly.
Natasha was fine aside from a few bruises, but she just wanted to talk to you. Understand what she had done to make you react that way. She wouldn’t soon forget the look in your eyes when you attacked her. The words you had said. Cold and empty, like you wanted to rip her to shreds right then and there. For a moment, she thought you would.
She was glad she had talked to Wanda beforehand; she likes to think it was the reason she came down to help. She hadn’t said much, just that once training was over and everyone had left, she and Wanda could train just the two of them. If that would be easier. Wanda had said she’d consider it and Natasha took that as a win.
She doesn’t see that happening any time soon.
“Anything?” Steve had asked, meeting up with the rest of the team in the living room.
He sighed when they all shook their heads, rubbing his temples, “FRIDAY didn’t see him leave the building but he could have easily slipped past her.”
“I should probably install a heat signature detector.” Tony suggested, his mind already coming up with a way to do just that.
Sam sees the dejected look on Steve’s face and chooses to stay optimistic, “Look, there isn’t much for him out there. He’ll realise that we aren’t mad at him and he’ll come back. He can’t stay mad forever.”
Steve smiles thankfully at Sam, straightening his posture and trying to rid his mind of the predicament he’s in, “Sam’s right. Y/N knows we aren’t out to get him and hopefully once he’s cooled off, he’ll return to the compound. There isn’t much we can do while he’s gone, so get some rest and we’ll continue this tomorrow.”
The team separated, going to do their own thing, all for Natasha, who hung back. She watched Steve with a sympathetic look, not knowing what to say this time round. She wanted to find you just as much as he did but clearly today wasn’t that day. This changed things, she knew you still needed help and that was a decision she couldn’t make on her own.
“He needs help, Steve. He can’t stay here while he’s like this.”
Steve didn’t respond, he kept his eyes cast downwards as he thought. He didn’t want to send you back, it’d put too much distance between you and the team. But Natasha was right, you weren’t healed, and you never would be as long as you stayed here. He turned to look at Natasha and it was almost as if they came to a silent agreement.
//
Wanda could still feel you. It was distant and disturbed, but it was still there.
It intrigued her greatly and she wanted to know why she could feel so much around you. It was so strong it overwhelmed her. There was an odd balance to you, she discovered. Your mind was silent for her; like it wasn’t even there, but your body hummed with emotion.
Feelings and sensations she couldn’t decipher.
Turmoil.
There was a turmoil raging within you and because of it, you were never still. Even at night when you lay in your quarters across from her, asleep, you were never still.
You ran rampant around her body almost like you were living vicariously through her. Your presence lingered even when you weren’t there.
She wondered if you felt the same things. If you could feel that sinking sensation she got whenever she thought of her brother. The cold dread within her when she realises how lost she is, how far she’d strayed from who she used to be.
She had known you were at her door the other night, only because she was able breath for a moment, despite her tears. Usually she’d choke up and be sat there gasping for air until she felt lightheaded, but that night was different.
It was as if a surge of air had penetrated her lungs and for a split second… it didn’t hurt so much. She had felt the air around her buzz with an energy that soothed her enough to let her drift off to sleep, a comforting presence blanketing her in a dome of… something. She hadn’t figured that out yet.
She wanted you at her door every night.
//
The late evening breeze served as a temporary reprieve from the constant heat flushes running through your body. Your legs dangled over the edge of the building you were perched on, eyes cast forward at the hustle and bustle of New York city.
You liked how miniature the people looked down below. They all seemed so insignificant compared to the buildings that towered over them. Silenced out by the beeping of cars and patter of feet on the wet ground.
You wished more than anything to be like that. Irrelevant and unknown. To not have anyone bat an eye at you as you walked past. A quiet soul in the midst of such a large world.
You held such a heavy weight on your shoulders, and it was tipping you further down than you’d ever been. To the depths of something so cold and lonely. You’d been hardwired to hurt everyone around you, and you were naïve to think you’d ever be rid of it.
It was coming up to 4 days since you left the compound. You’d been sneaking into cafes and restaurants after closing time to get food, and you’d endured worse conditions than the gravelly floors of rooftops.
You hated that you had to leave in the first place. It hurt more because you knew they cared. The team had taken a chance on you, let you into their home, their family. They’d given you the benefit of the doubt and all you’d given them were empty promises.
You couldn’t be better. Not for them, not for anyone. It didn’t matter what you did, you’d always circle round to your roots. The branching evil within you.
You wished to tear every person who allowed you to become this shell of a person to pieces. Rip their hearts right from their chest just so they could see how they’d so severely damaged yours. Torment their minds in the most torturous ways just so they could see how they’d destroyed yours. Left it for ruin in their wake; singed every nerve ending until you were numb.
You would never understand what you were. How was that fair? How were they able to break you so easily? Twist the image until you saw that you were never really whole in the first place. That there had always been something missing, a blurred part of the picture.
You’d go your whole life without finding it and what did that make you?
//
“He hasn’t been spotted on the premises, sir. I could get my squad to search further beyond the gates, but we don’t have much of an idea as to where’d he be.”
Steve thanked the agent for her help, dismissing her from the meeting room. He turned from the closing glass door to face the expectant gaze of Natasha who sat at the head of the table, one leg crossed over the other as she leaned back into her seat.
“Anything?”
With a solemn shake of his head, he shuffled over to the seat beside her, dropping his head into his hands. He was at a loss. He’d never find you if you didn’t want to be found.
It was concerning how much pressure Steve was putting on himself and it had Natasha’s mind racing, trying to come up with a solution. She was confident in the notion that you’d return in your own time, she understood that you probably just needed space right now. It didn’t make her any less concerned, however. It wouldn’t take much to reel you back into hydra’s grasp and she had an underlying fear that they were lurking around the corner, waiting for the best moment to strike.
She hoped you had the will power to come back to them. Come back to the people who only wanted to help you.
These thoughts stayed with Natasha until that night, but as she was rinsing the day’s stress from her face, she reached behind her to grab a towel when she heard a soft voice from inside her room.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were awfully quiet and if she hadn’t stilled immediately at the sound, she probably wouldn’t have heard them. She wiped the water droplets from her face, placing the towel on the sink and leaning her hip against it. She took the time to consider her words, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have you running off again.
“It isn’t you. No matter what it says.”
You don’t answer straight away, and she knows she’s hit the nail on the head. She hears your shaky exhale, switching off the bathroom light so that her eyes can adjust to the dark. Once they do, she can just about make out your silhouette in the dark room as she slowly takes a step forward.
“What did it say?”
You keep your eyes glued to the floor, the tension throttling you as you try to find the words, “You don’t know enough. You don’t know anything. I…”
Your words trail off as your breathe catches in your throat but Natasha doesn’t rush you. She waits patiently for you to articulate all the thoughts screaming at you. She has all night after all.
“I want you to know what you don’t. The truth.”
Natasha blinks a couple times, taken by surprise at your admission. You were placing a fractured piece of yourself into her hand, and she didn’t want it to slip through her fingers. She needed to keep it so that she could gather the rest.
“I want you to know who I was, what I did.”
Natasha couldn’t understand why you’d want that. The truth was a calamitous thing, destructive. There was so much more to you than whoever you once were but such bitter honesty could change the way you were seen, perceived by others.
“None of that matters now. We… we think it’s best we send you back to Wakanda. To alleviate the burden.”
Your head lifts at this, eyes trained onto the woman in front of you. They were getting rid of you.
You felt your resolve slip momentarily, a flash of betrayal coursing through you.
“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. You saw the progress you were making; you can have that again.”
You didn’t believe her. Her words were a harsh contrast to her intentions, to everyone’s intentions. Whispers of comfort carefully woven into her looming fear. Her fear of you.
“You’re getting rid of me.”
“No, Y/N- “
“You’re getting rid of me. Because I hurt you.”
She was shaking her head rapidly now, stepping closer, but you flinched back. You’d only hurt her again. You supposed she already knew. Her tone was too gentle, condescending almost. It plucked at your patience, withering it down ever so carefully.
It was interesting watching your mind go to war with itself. The ultimate duel between rage and reason. You wondered how it would end this time.
“Look at me, Y/N. You have earned your rightful place on this team, that’s something we won’t ever take from you.”
Liar.
“We just want to help you; we can’t do that here.”
Doesn’t she get sick of lying? Doesn’t she know you’re not fond of being lied to.
You’re slipping again.
You frown, eyes dropping down to Natasha’s lips. The lips that aren’t moving anymore. Panic alights in your chest as your mind reels in disorientation.
I know you can hear me.
Your breathing grows erratic at the voice, eyes scanning the room for the source of it. You were going insane.
Natasha notices your sudden display of distress, her gaze flittering over you in immediate concern, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”
Leave the room, Y/N.
You comply, not wanting to disobey the order. You stumble past Natasha, shrugging your arm out of her grip when she reaches for you. You pull open her door, looking down both ends of the hall, and try to catch your fleeting breath.
You’re okay.
It was odd. The voice was intentionally soothing and you wanted to keep the low pitch soaring through your head. Let it wrap itself around you until there was no room for anything else inside you. You felt your chest thrumming again, it made the hairs stand on your arms and your chest warm.
You walked towards the only place you recognised the thrumming to have ever come from, eyes teetering on the edge of closing at the sensations you were experiencing. When the elevator pinged with its arrival to your floor, the air pulsed with an energy that had your mind mollifying.
You practically sunk to your knees against her door once you’d reached it, hands gripping the material of your pants as you leant your head against the door. You wanted to drown in the feeling, the silence in your mind. You’d weld yourself against the wooden barrier between you and the other side just to stay here as long as you could.
Gentle puffs of air left your mouth and you could feel them ricochet off the door and back onto your face. They were slow, and effortless. Beyond those breaths, there was a resounding silence in the dim hallway. There was a current of peace within you and it made your eyes sting with tears that never fell.
I can feel you.
You nodded silently, hand reaching up to press against the door, “I can feel you too.”
