Danger In New Horizons (Chp 3 New*)
CATCH UP FIRST! Read Chapter 1 AO3 |Tip Jar💰- If you want to buy me a Witches Brew | Story MasterList
Warning: Enemies to Lovers/ House Arrest/ HEX AU Bee Talk/ Misunderstanding / Jealousy / Agatha is conflicted / House on Fire / SLOWBURN / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / PlotPlotPlot / Ag-Rio-Reader Endgame / Requested Story / Blood Magic and Gore / Flirting and Magic / 18+ - Request by @rubyblue02
“The honeys gone,” you grumble looking around the kitchen as it stitched back together. No longer jars next to the sink. Your world that you had so carefully constructed all gone.
Agnes' fingers are still in the air - her mind still tracing over your dimple, as it’s smoothed out once more.
The black and grey kitchen dressing her once again in Agnes' old fashioned dress.
She says nothing in a state of shock.
You walk around the kitchen. Wondering if Vision realizes what’s happened. That Wanda has changed the plot once again.
“I ate a charred hamburger for nothing. I don’t even eat meat.” You complain and then glare at the clock. The stupid cat clock, with it’s stupid tongue and eyes. Fuck this clock.
“You are alright?” Agnes asks, her hands touching the smooth dress she’s now in.
“Yeah, peachy keen.” You pout.
“I need to check -“ she points down at the basement and you shrug.
“Right of course.” You give her the out, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about all that honesty.
Meteor moments aren’t supposed to last this long.
It seemed the rules were changing for more than just your roommate situation.
Whatever Wanda was going through, it needed to go backwards. But why?
Was it the BBQ gone wrong? Did she get into an argument with Vision?
You chuffed and plopped down onto the floor.
Your body ached once more, blood magic reminding you of the physical pain hurts less than the emotional.
Agatha said all of that and then…then the earth split.
You’d jumped into her arms, only wanting to be with here.
All of that was romantic and shit, but it didn’t change that Agatha’s one purpose for being here was to drain Wanda.
The second the earth stitched back together Agnes went back to her part to play.
If you got sentimental about all of those words…well then you’re just as much of a fool as Vision.
You need booze, but something tells you that whatever beer or hard liquor that might have been in the house is no longer in this episode.
Candy just wasn’t gonna hit this heart ache today.
Tears were so close to falling but you wouldn’t start now, you sniffle and stand up. Moving with purpose towards the bedroom you’d once hauled up in.
Agatha walked out of the basement, her glamor not yet fixed on her black fingers.
“Where are you going?” The anxiety in her voice was so thick you can almost feel the texture of it.
“Back to my corner of house arrest, that okay with you?” You say snidely and Agatha’s face instantly sours at your mood, but it quickly falls away to her icey fake Agnes.
“Whatever you say Dear.” Her eyes don’t match the mask and you don’t get the outlet you’d like from it.
But you bound up the steps and close the door once more.
The only friends in the room are between spines, on yellowed paper.
You ignore them, remembering how you’d told Agatha that you’d both been covenless witches. That that was how it should stay.
This was exactly why - if people only ever disappointed, what was the point of trying.
You climb into the bed and curl the blankets over your head.
What a powerful blood witch.
What a over 200 years of being on this earth, and you were hiding under the blankets.
Fuck this was pathetic.
You stay in the blankets for hours, haunted only by the inner anger that thrashes about the wall of your mind.
You don’t notice the change of day, you don’t meet Agatha’s favorite part - the sunrise.
You don’t want to see it in monochrome, or if by freak of accident it does swuirl in the sky. It’s blues, peaches, and pinks bleeding together to prove that the little Annie was full of shit. The sun does come out - well to hell with that orphan.
No one who’s heart is breaking should ever be subjected to a kind sky.
You’d wish’d it thundered, poured, that the sky opened up with end of day type storms.
But Wanda’s world in this Hex was…..plastic.
You wouldn’t be gifted such kindness as a rainy day.
A soft knock against your door was almost so careful you thought you’d imagined it.
But the creak of the door opening boldly leaves no question - Agatha’s standing in your room.
“Good news…Wanda’s going to bring us back in color. I mean she has to, she’s pregnant and she’s gonna want that epidural.”
The joke is met with silence.
“I um, I owe you for eating that burger. I made those lentils you liked…You should probably do something for your pain and…” Agatha trails off and you don’t move an inch.
“You know it’s easier to do this honesty thing when I can see your face.”
You won’t give her the satisfaction.
“Listen, none of this was my plan. I’m just - damn it. Don’t make us go backwards like this - I don’t. We can’t go backwards, we can’t go back to…to being strangers.” Agatha’s voice trails off softer, the idea of strangers makes you both sick.
Still you stay angry, unable to give into the witch. They were probably just a lateral move, nothing about you.
“Okay, guess you’re back to being Boo Radley. Okay fine, but I think I have a plan. I mean what if I could just get Wanda to release the towns people, stay here with her child…stay here with - with her love. Then, then…” Agatha trailed off and you held your breath.
Was she says you two could stay here?
Did she want that?
Did you want that?
Holy shit?
“Okay, well, when you are ready to come out of your blanket cave…Let me know.” The witch sighed defeated by your ability to hold a cold shoulder just as well as her. She left the door open but walked out.
You stayed there listening to her walking around the house.
Unable to find where you feelings started and the silence choked you in it’s vice grip.
Agnes left the house, bound for Wanda. The second the door clicked you sprung out of the bed, tripping on piles of books on the floor but over to the radio.
The black and grey set only supplied the radio, was annoying.
But you heard the theme music, the opening of the show.
You listened as Wanda pretended pregnancy was as easy as Lucille Ball did.
The jokes, the laugh track, Vision’s part was wary. He was playing the part but something inside of him was putting together that this was off.
You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what it was or if he’d even noticed the change in decade.
The doorbell rings, the joke about nosy neighbors.
Wanda opens the door to Agnes who has - what the radio Vision explains as casteroil.’
“Nothing induces labor faster!” She supplies and then there’s a pause to which she adds. “Dear you are about ready to pop!”
“Well, we don’t need to speed this anymore than it already is.” Vision adds breaking his character to prove that yes- this pregnancy isn’t normal.
“Agnes, how in the world did you hear about this?” Wanda plays along but then there’s a blip in the soundtrack, the laugh track layers in.
What the hell was that?
“Wanda, we must get you to bed! Rest is the best thing for a lady in your condition.”
“Agnes, do you think I’m dumb?” Wanda’s voice doesn’t have the sweetness of the sitcom and the static breaks over the radio.
You sprint down the steps into the kitchen, looking everywhere for the ring glamor.
Where the fuck was the glamor Agatha had made.
You are panicking the overwhelming sound of static still cracking on the radio upstairs.
You take the steps two at a time and then wrench open Agatha’s bedroom door, not taking a moment to think of her privacy.
You see the ring on the pillow, something Agatha had held in bed, alone and afraid. You climb onto the mattress and slip it on.
As you turn to run downstairs you can see Ralph in the mirror.
Good fuck, now your legs had to carry you faster.
You just about fall down the steps and leave the front door open as you jump over Agnes flowers. Then don’t knock as you bust into Wanda’s house.
Making all of them turn to you, the tension palpable.
“Ralph?” Vision asks, seeing even through the glamor your disheveled state.
Agnes appears positively stunned you are standing there, but Wanda’s angry. The room has red magic contrasting the black and white set.
You swallow and figure it out quick.
“Hone I tried to heat up the food, turns out I can burn food even with the microwave. Now I haven’t a fuzziest where the fire extinguisher is. But your mother’s tea towels may have been collateral.” You sigh like a dumb man and the laugh track makes a high pitch noise before it’s like the lights come back on in the living room - the high beams.
Telling everyone the set is back on, they’re live once more.
“Oh dear, Ralph! You caught my kitchen on fire, again! You know maybe I’ll start making you eat only candy while I was gone!” Agnes jokes again but heads for the door.
You understand it clearly. You’d told your witch about the food coloring in the m&m's. Specifically the red dye. Agatha was speaking through Agnes talk - code red.
Code red.
You’d come just in time.
“Well, we should all come and help!” Wanda played her part, but you noticed something was off, something angry and ugly inside of the sitcom witch.
“Wanda, why don’t we let Rlaph take his beating in peace?” Vision turns the charisma back up.
You’re thankful, three against one, three against the Scarlet Witch though, still not great odds.
You take Agnes' hand, and it throws her for a minute.
Your skin touching, the sparks of a love neither of you could admit beyond the sacred ten seconds of honesty.
You trail out of Wanda’s house, and the two of you quickly speed walk back to your house.
Agnes closes the door and eyes the kitchen.
“We need a fire.”
You’re already walking back to it and opening drawers so hard they fall to the floor.
Both of you silently understand that magic can’t start it - Scarlet Witch will smell it. Know that this is a witch home.
You find nothing - you don’t cook in here, and it shows. Agatha moves to the drawer next to the oven for the matches, and she strikes it.
The match breaks from her hard hold - her anxious shaking hands failing her.
You grab two kitchen towels and set them in a pot that hangs above the kitchen island.
Setting it on top of the microwave.
Agatha strikes another match and it lights she places it against the tea towel and it slowly burns. Not fast enough, not fast enough for this sitcom at all.
You open the back door and spin around to see if anyone is watching, then grab the lighter fluid next to the grill neither of you have ever used.
You come back inside and squirt it into the flame like it’s ketchup.
Big flames grow, and you both step back.
You twist behind you again to see that the kitchen window isn’t drawn you go to close it but Agatha grabs your hand.
“Let her see, she needs to see the flames.” It’s an ominous thought.
“You ward the basement?” You question, and she thinks for a second.
“It’s fine, besides she’s never bult a firestation. This will take her a minute.”
“What happened?”
“How did you know?”
You both speak at the same time.
“Radio.” You answer but you tilt your body to the side to see out the window, no ones coming still.
“I thought you-” Agatha stops, but her hold on your hand doesn’t slack.
“What happened?” You repeat, not wanting to talk about your shared feelings in this moment.
“She found magic in the Hex. I don’t know how, I don’t even know if it was me. But there can’t be another witch in here, I’d know.” Agatha’s face turns to the grey flames, she’s irritated at herself, she’d missed something.
“What was it?” You push and Agatha shook her head and shrugged.
“I don’t know but she’s paranoid, at first I thought it was S.W.O.R.D they’ve been flying drones and trying to get in. But this was different, she knew it was magic.”
“I’m guessing she won’t go for it being an Avenger on the outside?” You say weakly and Agatha’s lip curls up at your attempt to fix it.
“Not likely,” she agrees and you move your hand in her hold until your fingers are laced.
Neither of you speak, you watch the flames building.
“Think this set is flame retardant?” The microwave is gone, glass broken, corners dark black like the darkhold. The countertops ablaze as they reach the sink.
“No, but if we don’t have a charred house we might not get away with your lie.” Your witch’s gaze goes to the window again.
Both of you silently wondering if she’s building a fire house, or finding firefighters for you. You realize this was a probably making Agnes look more guilty than before.
“Sorry I-” You say knowing this was a lame lie.
“No-no don’t apologize. Wanda stopped the program, she actually paused it. The set lights dimmed, the laugh track gone - it’s like she was having everyone take five. But Vision was bearing witness, and he was so scared.” Agatha’s wearing Agnes clothes but her exhaustion contrasts so much with it all.
“Think we’ll get another house?” You question as the flames build from the microwave to the wall, curling the wallpaper.
“I think she’d rather let us burn in here.”
“How historically accurate.” You say and regret it the moment you let it out, remembering from Agatha’s meteor moment one night by the fireplace the story of her and her mother.
“I don’t think her Avenger outlook would allow it.”
“Tell that to our neighbors.” You interject and now Agatha twists to look at you and now the fire flicking against the cupboards.
“Lose your crush?” She jokes, but you see the underlying jealousy.
“I never had a crush on the Scarlet Witch and her sitcom of mediocrity with her toaster DIY husband.” You defend but Agatha just laughs and you can tell she doesn’t buy it.
“You felt awfully bad for her when you saw the baby bump.”
“Well I was worried she’d killed you so - no. Not liking this episode.”
The quiet stretched.
“Thank you for that by the way.”
“Lighting our house on fire, sure anytime.” You shrug at the lameness of the joke.
“You came in at the perfect time actually, Vision was defending me. Then he said something about the strangeness of their home. Then you burst in, making Vision think his darling wife had done it.” Agatha tilts her head to the side as you both watch the burn spread.
“I didn’t do it for your plan.”
“No, I know that.”
You both sit with that.
“I need to get you out of here.”
“What?”
“It’s too dangerous, you didn’t sign up for any of this.”
“How are you going to explain that?”
“I’ll say you left me for a younger woman.” Agatha laughs self deprecating.
“No.” You said it so quickly it scares both of you.
“What?” Agatha’s confusion is almost comical.
“No.” You repeat, a bit of heat from the house burning making you sweat. Yeah; the house is why, sure.
“You-“ Agatha’s almost angry now.
“I’m not leaving you here with her. You could use the back up, like today!” It sounds stupid, fuck it sounds desperate. Why were you doing this, a ember bounced off the burnt cords towards your arm. Agatha watched it and you don’t feel a thing.
Centuries of chronic pain and yet all you can feel is Agatha’s hand.
She seems to be overwhelmed and drops her hold.
You miss it instantly.
“That’s sweet of you. But I’m not in need of a white knight. I am an infamous witch killer remember?” Agatha’s fists clench and you don’t see it. Too focused on this fake version of the witch.
One that probably watched their coven die around her.
You’ve never been more afraid, but not of death - of loving someone more than they want. How do you ask to be wanted?
“Yeah and I’m a himbo. You can wear whatever disguise you want. It’s okay to…to need someone.”
Agatha steps forward and your mouth opens, fucking submissively. But she doesn’t kiss you, just takes off the ring and puts it on the surface currently not on fire.
“And you think what? That I need you?” She says walls in place. Her face looks back at the wedding ring. And you wished you could read minds like she did.
Why is it Agatha didn’t just cheat and read yours?
“I think you don’t need a coven. But maybe, just maybe a partner in crime…maybe that wouldn’t hurt. I mean Bonnie had Clyde right?”
Agatha’s demeanor shifts and her face turns back to the house in fire. Her plans literally and figuratively up on some.
When did you do decide to burn together? Why weren’t either of you stopping it.
Your gut twisted with all of the possibilities.
“You’re Clyde in this sinarrio ?” Agatha jokes, rolling up her sleeves.
“If the pantsuit fits.” You remind her, thinking of Ralph like a theoretical easy scapegoat.
“Oh, please.” Agatha laughs and you missed the sound.
“Starsky and Hutch?” You grin, wanting to flirt, needing to flirt.
It’s a good thing you don’t have a smoke detector.
The flames are now moving to ignite the ceiling.
It’s a little too symbolic of the tension of two witches dancing around love in a small space.
“You are incorrigible.” Agatha’s gaze strokes the fire. Magic crackling just under the surface.
Had no one ever picked her?
“The creature of the black lagoon and Addams!” You list delighted that she’s having fun now.
In your burning house in a sitcom, neither of you were the star of.
“I’m ignoring you now.” Agatha’s sing song voice adds as she is moving back to the grey flames, turning everything black around it.
Somehow this burn didn’t hurt, instead feeling closer to a tactical burn, something that grows back twice as strong.
Agatha goes to the fridge and pulls out a thing of lemonade and throws it on the flames currently eating at the sink. Setting the glass down and you can’t help but feel giddy.
“Don’t go! What’s more intimate than watching a home burn together. The look of fire reflecting in your irises!” You tease but cough and the ash filling the air and Agatha rolls her eyes and turns the charred sink on. Then locates a cleaning bucket under the sink.
You curl around her to get a plastic pitcher from some container party. Filling it once she’d thrown the water onto the flames.
It took two witches doing it the old-fashioned way, entirely too long.
Most of the kitchen was burnt, even the fridge had scorched marks.
“The 1950s didn’t have take-out pizza.” You say and Agatha laughs fully again and you swear you’ll do anything to hear her keep going.
She finds the kettle and sets to filling it.
“Let’s start with tea.”
You set up shop in her basement with tea and flavorless crackers.
Agatha hesitated as you walked in, you wrote it off as being caged around her villain hangout. When in reality the color that cast in this bit of magical space made it easier for the older witch to see her dimple once more. The bit she’d coveted and missed in the shades of grey. The slight bit of your hair that was darker than the other patches. The scars she’d mapped out - Agatha had missed you in technicolor.
“Can’t wait for them to figure out salt.” You grumble and sit cries cross on the floor. Not noticing the lovesick woman who was ogling you two feet away. You’d set up your snacks and tea and tried to get comfortable.
Your back hurts, your hips ache, and you try stupidly not to fidget.
“You’re not doing well.” Agatha sees, because she seems to see everything.
“It’s fine.” You lie, but don’t move as your body criples in pain. It’s not that you don’t want her to be right, because she’s right. It’s simply that now was not the time for such an intimate reality.
“It’s-”
“Explain the hex.” You wave your hand dismissively - cutting her off and she swallows and cracks open a grimoire. You try not to let your magic callus in your fingers as you can tell the darkhold is near. You don’t want to see it, and the witch who seems to enjoy your company doesn’t press the issue.
You two get to work in this basement of old magic.
The most ancient way of getting to work - two crones in hiding, reading secret text and practicing witchcraft. Being over 200 didn’t curb your enthusiasm with magic, the glint in Agatha’s eye as she showed off her collection of grimoires told you, she felt the same.
Though it didn’t matter how much ancient text, grimoire spells, or potions.
Chaos magic was simply different, as was it written by all the old crones who spoke of the scarlet witch. How annoying, for these books to speak of your neighbor like the ender of worlds and the creator of ruin.
When she was really playing puppet show with her ex vibrator with legs. But that was Oracle work for you.
After a few hours, you are lying flat in the cold ground, tea gone, snacks gone. While Agatha paces and sighs. Covering her eyes as she rubbed at her temples. A headache of grand proportions coming to fruition. You’d lost track of time, unsure on what the upstairs sitcom world even looked like anymore.
“Chaos magic isn’t easily contained, but runes and a witch fight isn’t a horrible idea.” You say, before you can counter, Agatah finishes your thought. Not from reading your mind, but rather this new creepy thing where you were both on the same page. A strange new way of being, domestically connected in thought.
You hoist yourself up on your elbows to look at her hunched-over form.
“You think it’s too risky with the chaos magic. It’s hard to predict, making Wanda a force where planning is irrelevant because of the variables. You’re absolutely correct.”
“Now that’s what every husband wants to hear.” You say and Agatha actually moves her hand away from her face to glare at you.
“Easy Ralph.”
“Apologies, Agnes, please continue.” You say laying back down, not because you wanted to. But this level of flirting was doing things to your face that needed to be shielded. You bring your forearm over your eyes to drape it like you would on a sunny day.
“I think I liked Atticus Finch better.” Agatha groans, taking her hairpins out, and unbuttoning the back of her dress. Nothing about it was comfortable.
You were still in a button-down and trousers, which wasn’t comfy but it wasn’t a 50’s bra that’s for certain.
“Atticus….” You say with your eyes closed.
“Yes, Boo?” Agatha’s smirk could be heard without being seen. You uncover your eyes but throw your hands in the air.
“No, not the characters - the book. That’s your plan, you’re hoping like Atticus that the consistency of showing Wanda she’s wrong will bring her to a humane answer.” You reason, too much of a bookworm not to make the connections.
“That’s a stretch even for you Ralph.” Agatha says and you hear fabric move but are far too chicken shit to look.
“You’re struggling with yourself. Part of you longs for Wanda’s hex. That’s why you haven’t upped the game. It’s not that you’re scared of her - you want her story to break of course. But why are you playing the long game?” You’re getting too warm, to close to the truth.
“I’m not.” Agatha answers too fast, and you lift yourself up on your elbows again to see Agatha - not Agnes. She’s wearing a slip that’s purple - you can tell from down here. You gulp as her long long curly hair is out of the tight 50’s buns. Her breasts are pushing against the slip - bra gone.
She was in the middle of unlatching her garters under the slip and you fell back to the floor with a plop.
“Easy does it Ralph, you’ll get a bloody nose.” She teases fliratiously and you can’t ignore how aroused you are.
“I’m fine.” Your voice cracks - now that was humiliating.
“Dinner time?”
You see the crack now in her plan. You cover your eyes with your palm but sit back up. SO you can talk towards her and not get distracted by….the woman underneath Agatha’s hard exterior.
She laughs lowly at your prudeness.
“You changed the game, not Wanda. She found something she wasn’t supposed to. But you showed me all the rules all these books. Trying to explain - but you didn’t need my help. You wanted me to understand! To see it without you needing to say it! The reason - the why you’re doing it.” You’re on a roll so fast your tongue can’t slow down as you're more confident on your logic.
But the closer the truth comes the less you want to say it outloud.
Agatha makes a shuffling sound and you don’t stop speaking.
“You’ve changed the game. Not Wanda - Wanda’s response is paranoia, yes! But you could have made her angry today. You could have made her blast you with magic. You were in her house yesterday. You’ve set the runes in her home! You just need to set the last one! You’ve been doing it around town this whole time. For whenever the fight breaks out! You could have gotten her to blast you today and this could have all ended but-but”
Agatha’s weight lands on your lap, and you jerk to attention just as her hand removes yours.
Her face is so close to yours, her hair tickling your neck. Her breath on your lips, her knees on each side of your hips.
For being an infamous witch killer her placement on your lap is far closer to a black cat purring.
“Say it.” Agatha states, her pupils are blown. She’s as far gone as you are, but fuck does she look better at doing it.
Your mouth is suddenly rendered mute.
Agatha’s eyes flick between your lips, that dimple, and your irises. Like she’ just needs you to set both of you free.
“Why didn’t you take her - end this fucking season of TV. You don’t need it in color. You had a witch fight at your fingertips. Vision wouldn’t have stood a chance, it would be you and her. Just as you’d planned it from the start?”
“Don’t play coy. Not now, say it.” Agatha whispers against your lips.
In this moment, you were sure this is why so many mortals must have feared witches.
Because Agatha had you wrapped around her finger.
Blood witch for 200 years had nothing on Agatha’s creamy thighs, how your hands could reach out and hold her ass.
Make her shift impossibly closer to you.
You can’t say it though.
You just don’t have the strength, and as Agatha waits, you see she’s refusing to say it either.
Why should she? She’d already declared her love for you less than twenty-four hours ago.
It was your turn; all you had to do was reach out and take the chance.
“Agatha, end this.” You say instead and you hope it’ll push her away. But it doesn’t, the witch simply tilts her head, her face straining with pain.
“You said I showed you how it’s done. Our meteor moment…” Agatha says it so softly your soul might actually wheep in your chest. Where your heart had once been, but is no longer in your employment. No, your heart was wherever this feared witch had put it. Harkness owned your beating heart and you would not ask for it back.
“Agatha, this isn’t that.”
“Ten seconds.” She pleads, her hands so close to reaching out and touching your face, caressing. Milliseconds away from breaking from simply roomates of doom to so much more.
There’s a loud booming siren and both of you flinch from the noise.
“The bitch.” Agatha says so fast, so honestly that you can’t help but agree.
“It’s been hours, what is she hoping her new characters will find? Our bodies would be closer to Visions hamburgers by now.” You groan as Agatha lifts herself off of your lap. Then heads up the stairs, her hand waiving and the uncomfortable Agnes attire returns.
You miss Agatha instantly; you weren’t Ralph. You wanted that witch, with her wild, untamed hair, her lips so close to yours.
You sighed, and closed your eyes.
Yeah, you were the coward for sure.
That’s when the water started to pour down the basement, you really hated that fucking redhead.
The new firefighters were very underwhelming, in full old school costumes, three of them. Well, the only three that Wanda could produce hit your house with water hoses.
Agnes pretended to be thankful, while you waited in the basement.
You bit your thumb until it bled and then smeared the door.
Agatha’s magic hid the basement, yours hopefully hid the entrance and stopped the water from pouring in.
You waited what felt like an hour as you tried not to use magic to dry things.
But picked up your little picnic of tea and empty boxes of crackers.
When Agnes busted back downstairs, the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention.
She looks perfect in her apron and fake caricature.
But you could tell from her overall tenseness that Wanda and Vision were upstairs.
“Ralph Dear, leave the firefighting to the grown ups who can lift more than a beer can.” She says and you glare letting your arms hand alittle too low.
You mouth to her ‘gee thanks.’
But she pulls from her apron pocket a wedding ring and throws it at you.
You’re amazed you can catch it, but instantly your hand spasms.
Agatha see’s it, or rather Agnes does and her worry makes you feel guilty.
You slip on the ring as your body betrays you.
“Dear, I just need to find that one magazine!” You say eyebrows lifted and Agatha doesn’t find that funny one bit. As she stands at the middle of the basement steps.
“Darling, I’m sure Mrs. August will have another issue.”
You snort and start up the steps, Agatha puts her hand to stop you from walking up.
“What was that?” Her tone that of a wife who just caught their partner in a lie.
Only you weren’t lying; you just weren’t sharing the truth of your chronic pain.
“Hand cramping with the weight of our martial ring. Sometimes I hate your cassarole.”
“Stop it,” Agatha chastises but the sound of Wanda upstairs cuts you off.
“Do you two need any help!”
“No!” You both say in unison but return to share a glare.
“We don’t have time for this.”
“They want us to stay in their guest bedroom….We-”
“Would be delighted to spend time with our lovely neighbors. Now is your shot, now go before they walk down here and find out Agnes enjoys the occult. Not the way this episode should end.” Your eyebrows furrow in upset, you keep the hand in pain behind your back.
It’s enough to make your ears ring, Agnes doesn’t have a chance to push further as you bound up the steps.
You hear Vision and Wanda arguing in your living room and stop abruptly. Agnes just about runs into you.
“What are you waiting for?” Your witch hisses behind your stopped form.
“She’s going to change it again - the decade. Can’t you feel it?”
Agatha grabs your hips, a place that feels like it was carved for her to hold.
You try not to make any noises as she holds onto you tight.
“Why, how can you tell?”
“Her chaos magic, it’s bent on emotion right? She’s a child, she’s upset. The dolls aren’t all playing house like she’d like. Vision is asking too many questions. She needs to end the episode - but she can’t until all her toys are put back. Only he doesn’t want this.” You saw low and hear Vision in that moment raise his voice.
The sound of something breaking makes Agatha’s nails dig into your hip harder, as though she’s ready to yank you back into the basement and barricade you there.
“Let them fight. This can only end with more chaos.” You weigh the possibilities in your head but Agatha’s hands start to glow purple around you.
“Don’t, if you distract them they’ll turn on you.”
The use of magic already could have spooked the Scarlet Witch.
“If you are hurting like I think, you’ll not be able to shield yourself from this - we need to go back in the basement.”
“You want her magic, we gotta move when she’s most vulnerable.” You push, confusing even yourself. You’d hoped no one would get hurt, even though you’d done your fair share of hurting others. But now why did you need this hex to end so badly?
“What happened to she’s pretty and pregnant?” Agatha’s voice is angry and you don’t understand why, you do really but you won’t admit it.
“She’s vulnerable; this is your moment. What are you doing?”
Now it’s two couples fighting a burnt and sopping wet house.
The color starts to fizzle like a heat wave through the shamble of a home. You open the door just as Agatha wraps an arm around your waist to bring you back to the stairs.
You could joke about how now that you were in color once more - you two would have to share a bed. No longer two single beds in a room, you could have made a lot of jokes in the quiet of the hallway.
But you push forward, so Agatha has no choice but to follow.
Once in the living room once more you see a new set, yet some things are still stuck in the past. A half-remedy spell - Wanda’s not done yet, and now she has an audience.
You see, Vision has run off, you couldn’t trust appliances nowadays.
Wanda is quick to wipe at her eyes and wave her hand, then you’re back in the 80’s. No questions asked, you grin, ready to play Ralph.
Wanda’s demeanor is no longer that of the kind host. Now when she spots you, she asks what the camera would not have allowed;
“It was you who left the beer can, wasn’t it? You did the spell.”
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