There are a number of people Wanda does and doesn't wish to see. Steve's one of them.
He's easier to face than Vision. Much easier to face than Pietro. She can work with Strange in Thedas—after all, he already expects the worst of her, having survived the worst of her. But Steve…
A part of her hates him for being here.
His knocks are specific. They're patient. Sam's were impatient. Sam's presence behind a door was always suffocating. That's what she disliked most about the Raft, being on a different level to the rest of them. Steve was calm; Sam was energy; Scott was jokes. Her little cell was void of everything.
Dread's always accompanied her when someone's knocked at her door. Even in Westview, where everyone was underneath her control, she had a moment of her heart leaping into her throat, wondering who was waiting on the other side.
Of course, the Boy Scout would remember the knocks. Wanda's gone out of her way not to knock on anyone's door, but ring bells, tap windows, or shout.
Her hair's in a loose French braid, as light as fire's orange. Wanda doesn't let herself frown, because frowning means that something's changed, and Wanda wants to be selfish.
She opens the door with a furrowed brow and doesn't fight the urge not to smile. How can she? She finally has a reason.
"I heard an old man was in town." She holds her door open, scrunching her nose in delight like she's several years younger with less rubble on her shoulders. "I expected someone younger."
"So did I," he says, warm and without judgment. Wanda may not want to bring attention to the years between them, but it'd be hard for him not to notice that her hair isn't at all the color it was the last time he saw her. That's alright, if she doesn't want to dwell on it he's not going to make her—Stephen already explained that the multiverse works in strange ways, particularly where time is concerned. All that matters is she's Wanda, and she's here.
"I wanted to find you first," before she could find out from someone else, or see him across the Gallows, and think he was avoiding her, "but I guess this place is too small for that."
He holds his arms out, inviting, but lets it be Wanda's choice to move in for a hug if she wants.
She eyes him for a moment and wishes she didn't. That's not Normal Wanda Behaviour. She rolls her eyes like he's an exasperating person—and he is, in some ways, although, right now, it's because he's being so Steve about things—and steps into him. Wanda's never been a hugger, but she tries for him. Steve deserves that at least, doesn't he?
Wanda's hugs aren't bear hugs. She sticks her hips out and intentionally pats him on the back like he's made of glass. Many think Steve won't shatter, but she knows better.
"I would be surprised if someone as tall as you could hide."
If Steve knew what she'd done, would he still invite her for a hug?
Wanda is not a hugger; that doesn't mean she doesn't need hugs. Steve is used to her being a bit like a stand-offish cat about affection, so he just smiles, brings her in a little closer, and rubs her back.
"It's really good to see you, Wanda."
Maybe she doubts his sincerity, can't believe he'd see her the same way after everything she's done... And maybe she's right. There's so much he knows he doesn't know, not just about her but about Thedas and the life she's lived here. His affection and respect aren't unconditional, they never have been. He wouldn't lie that she could never lose him.
But she's his closest link to Earth, she's the only other Avenger, she's one of two people who could have any way to understand him—and also, she's his friend.
After a long moment, he steps away from her, releasing her from the hug, and—well, here's where he would put his hands in his pockets, if these trousers had pockets. As it is, his hands go to his hips, unintentionally in full Captain America dorito mode.
"Can I come in, do you have time to talk? Strange told me you've been here for a while."
How long will she feel that twinge in her chest when someone reveals that Strange spoke of her?
Should she be thankful? The mention of him distracts her enough from the fact that Steve's here. He's here, he's real, and the anger she felt at him not saying goodbye has abandoned her. How could she hold onto such a horrible feeling? She's never had anyone who's left her return.
She steps aside, gesturing for him to come in. There's nothing inside that speaks of Wanda, much like how her room in the Avengers HQ had been a patchwork of what everyone else thought she was. She misses her old television and Samantha's couch. It's comfortable enough with a small lounge and table set by the corner. There are no pictures, but there are a few books stacked on a wooden table. It's her idea of minimalism: she can't lose anything if she doesn't own it.
"I'll always have time for you, Steve," she says. It's meant to sound like a joke, but Wanda doesn't commit to the bit. It's true. Steve was—is—her friend. Another one that she's lost. One that she's lucky enough to regain.
She stays by the door. "So don't be stupid," she says warmly. "I'll kick you out if you break my rule." She had something similar way back when. Her hair had been darker, her nails were painted, and Vision used to break her rule every single time he stepped through the wall.
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He's easier to face than Vision. Much easier to face than Pietro. She can work with Strange in Thedas—after all, he already expects the worst of her, having survived the worst of her. But Steve…
A part of her hates him for being here.
His knocks are specific. They're patient. Sam's were impatient. Sam's presence behind a door was always suffocating. That's what she disliked most about the Raft, being on a different level to the rest of them. Steve was calm; Sam was energy; Scott was jokes. Her little cell was void of everything.
Dread's always accompanied her when someone's knocked at her door. Even in Westview, where everyone was underneath her control, she had a moment of her heart leaping into her throat, wondering who was waiting on the other side.
Of course, the Boy Scout would remember the knocks. Wanda's gone out of her way not to knock on anyone's door, but ring bells, tap windows, or shout.
Her hair's in a loose French braid, as light as fire's orange. Wanda doesn't let herself frown, because frowning means that something's changed, and Wanda wants to be selfish.
She opens the door with a furrowed brow and doesn't fight the urge not to smile. How can she? She finally has a reason.
"I heard an old man was in town." She holds her door open, scrunching her nose in delight like she's several years younger with less rubble on her shoulders. "I expected someone younger."
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"I wanted to find you first," before she could find out from someone else, or see him across the Gallows, and think he was avoiding her, "but I guess this place is too small for that."
He holds his arms out, inviting, but lets it be Wanda's choice to move in for a hug if she wants.
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Wanda's hugs aren't bear hugs. She sticks her hips out and intentionally pats him on the back like he's made of glass. Many think Steve won't shatter, but she knows better.
"I would be surprised if someone as tall as you could hide."
If Steve knew what she'd done, would he still invite her for a hug?
no subject
"It's really good to see you, Wanda."
Maybe she doubts his sincerity, can't believe he'd see her the same way after everything she's done... And maybe she's right. There's so much he knows he doesn't know, not just about her but about Thedas and the life she's lived here. His affection and respect aren't unconditional, they never have been. He wouldn't lie that she could never lose him.
But she's his closest link to Earth, she's the only other Avenger, she's one of two people who could have any way to understand him—and also, she's his friend.
After a long moment, he steps away from her, releasing her from the hug, and—well, here's where he would put his hands in his pockets, if these trousers had pockets. As it is, his hands go to his hips, unintentionally in full Captain America dorito mode.
"Can I come in, do you have time to talk? Strange told me you've been here for a while."
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How long will she feel that twinge in her chest when someone reveals that Strange spoke of her?
Should she be thankful? The mention of him distracts her enough from the fact that Steve's here. He's here, he's real, and the anger she felt at him not saying goodbye has abandoned her. How could she hold onto such a horrible feeling? She's never had anyone who's left her return.
She steps aside, gesturing for him to come in. There's nothing inside that speaks of Wanda, much like how her room in the Avengers HQ had been a patchwork of what everyone else thought she was. She misses her old television and Samantha's couch. It's comfortable enough with a small lounge and table set by the corner. There are no pictures, but there are a few books stacked on a wooden table. It's her idea of minimalism: she can't lose anything if she doesn't own it.
"I'll always have time for you, Steve," she says. It's meant to sound like a joke, but Wanda doesn't commit to the bit. It's true. Steve was—is—her friend. Another one that she's lost. One that she's lucky enough to regain.
She stays by the door. "So don't be stupid," she says warmly. "I'll kick you out if you break my rule." She had something similar way back when. Her hair had been darker, her nails were painted, and Vision used to break her rule every single time he stepped through the wall.