Chapter Summary: After their successful pilot test, Vision and Wanda have to decide what it means for their collaboration.
Vision’s chest heaves, lungs gasping for air, each hurried, shaky inhale falling on beat with her equally desperate exhales. Their shuddering duet continues for almost 45 seconds before she has enough composure to speak, “What the fuck, Vision?”
“You,” he sucks in two more breaths to get enough energy to respond, “said you wanted to try this place,” vaguely he waves towards the images of dancing omelets drawn onto the otherwise unnoteworthy windows, “omelets the size of American footballs, right?”
It is a tradition of theirs, for eight years now, to partake of early morning runs that end with the reward of breakfast. Where many of their contemporaries flock to brunch on the weekends, he and Natasha have always sought out the quieter 6am crowd of the weekdays. “Well, here we are.” Natasha punches his shoulder, not the friendly oh you fiend style but a solid, potentially bruising punch usually reserved for their sparring sessions. “What?”
“I also told you we’d need to take the subway because it was too far for a run.”
She did explicitly mention that when they last discussed the famed omelets that Sam, via Steve’s friend Bucky, recommended, but Vision needed the longer than usual workout after last night, his mind still shackled in a daze of ambiguity, waffling between elation, perplexment, anxiety, dread, and a concerningly unmitigated desire. That’s not what he is going to tell her though, at least not this very moment, because even after staying up most of the night and the physically taxing run, he still hasn’t found the words to convey precisely what he needs to. Hopefully several glasses of water, a strong coffee, and a humongous omelet will help. “If they really are as big as you say, we need to counterbalance the calories.” Only years of practice allows him not to crumble immediately under the sharp glare leveled at him. “We will take the subway back.”
