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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"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."
no subject
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.