#kit is annoyed that i'm up past bedtime

[punmasterkentparson]

Sleep Talk

inspired by this post, because i think it’d be hilarious if Alexei Mashkov talked in his sleep and unwittingly inflicted it on Kent. But then feelings happened?

also on ao3.

“I love you, big rat.”

Kent is in the process of picking his clothes off Alexei Mashkov’s hotel room floor in the near-dark when this statement comes from the bed. In slow motion, Kent turns. He can just make out Alexei’s silhouette from the lights of Vegas coming through the hotel room window.

He doesn’t know which he’s more baffled by: the love confession from a guy he literally just hooked up with last night, or the attached nickname that’s either an insult or an unfortunate mistranslation from Russian.

“...Sorry, what?”

Alexei is still horizontal in bed, but he shrugs as if he’s sitting up. He hasn’t even opened his eyes. “It’s fine. Take the turtles with you, they’re lonely.”

Kent gapes. “What turtles?”

“The ones underground. Don’t feed them after midnight.” Then, as if that has concluded the conversation, Alexei rolls over under the blankets and presumably goes back to sleep.

Kent pulls on his clothes and sneaks out of the room. As he drives himself home, he wonders under his breath, “Turtles?!”

--

All-Star weekend is a gift and a curse. It’s a curse because it pulls Kent out of regular season and away from his team. It’s a gift because he loves kicking ass in the skills competitions. But mostly, it’s a gift because this year, when he’s out at a bar and spots Mashkov watching him, the hot tingle he gets isn’t residual terror from the memory of being single-handedly yanked out of a dogpile and yelled at in Russian last year.

Okay, it isn’t just from the memory of that.

The first hookup had involved a some name-calling and taken a while to get from ‘resentful opponents’ to ‘resentful opponents working off sexual tension.’ This time, it’s easier. All Kent has to do is slip Mashkov a napkin with his room number on it and then tell everyone he’s calling it a night. The guys accuse him of being a wet blanket for ditching the party early, but that just means they’re all still out when Kent lets Mashkov into his room at the hotel.

Mashkov blows him on the bed, both of them still half-dressed, then turns Kent around and fucks his way to orgasm between Kent’s squeezed thighs. It’s almost as good a workout as the day’s events had been. It’s definitely more satisfying. Lying on the bed afterward, Kent feels like his brain has melted, in the best way.

Mashkov, facedown on the blankets at Kent’s left, grunts. “We messy. Get towel.”

Kent’s legs are slippery with lube and his muscles are jelly. “You get it.”

“Rock paper scissors you for not go.”

Kent snorts but holds up a hand. They throw down, and Mashkov loses.

After they’ve wiped up the spunk and Kent has graciously tossed the towel back in the bathroom, Mashkov rolls off the bed and starts collecting his clothes. Kent watches, thoroughly enjoying the muscular flex of Mashkov’s ass whenever he bends down. “You wanna just stay over?” he asks, without even thinking.

Mashkov turns, nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

Kent shrugs. “’Cause I wanna blow you tomorrow morning, and if I do it in the locker room or the showers, the guys’ll complain.”

Mashkov laughs, shakes his head, and says, “Okay. It’s good plan.” He pulls his briefs back on but leaves off everything else. Kent goes to brush his teeth, and when he comes back to bed, Mashkov is already under the blankets and half-asleep. Even with the heat on in the room, Kent gravitates to pocket of warmth on Mashkov’s side.

Even though he can’t quite admit it to himself, he falls asleep faster and easier with Mashkov there. He even drops into a deeper sleep than usual.

So when Mashkov grabs his arm in the middle of the night, Kent startles awake like he’s been stabbed.

“The fuck!? Oh, shit. Mashkov, what the hell--”

Mashkov responds in Russian.

“I don’t know what the hell you just said?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mashkov says, in what is...Jesus Christ, is that Jack’s Canadian accent? “We’re not in Russia?”

“We’re in Florida. Why do you sound Canadian?”

Mashkov frowns. “What is he usually?” he asks, his accent now closer to Rhode Island.

Kent stares, wide-eyed, and for the first time in his life entertains the notion that body-snatchers are real. “You’re Russian? But you speak English?”

“Oh,” Mashkov says, thankfully back to his normal accent. “You don’t say.” And he lets go of Kent’s arm and rolls over. Within ten seconds, he’s snoring.

Kent can’t get back to sleep for another half hour.

--

In the morning, Kent wakes to find Mashkov already sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

"Do you talk in your sleep?" Kent blurts.

Mashkov jumps at the sound of Kent's voice. He puts his phone down and looks over. "Little bit? Why, I'm say something last night?" He's grinning.

"You grabbed me in the middle of the night and asked if we were in Russia. You had a Canadian accent. And you talked about yourself in the third person."

Mashkov laughs. "Sorry. It's happen sometimes. Never remember what I say."

"In Vegas you talked about turtles," Kent says accusingly.

Mashkov laughs some more and shrugs. "I don't know what it's mean. It's just my brain, you know? Say stuff, I'm not thinking."

"Your brain has weird thoughts."

Mashkov winks and puts his phone on the nightstand. "Maybe you guess what my brain is thinking about now? Give you hint, it's about your mouth and my dick."

Kent rolls his eyes and shoves him, right before ducking under the sheets.

--

They hook up twice more during the All-Star weekend. Then it's back to the regular season. They're on opposite ends of the country more often than not, but Kent somehow ended up with Alexei's phone number (and vice versa) so the distance between them seems to shrink.

It turns out that Alexei is fun to talk to even when he's NOT sleep-talking. He's a social media fiend who Instagrams everything he eats, and also things he wishes he could eat--like ice cream.

"I'm lactase intolerant," Alexei tells him over Skype one night. The video is off but they've got audio, and Kent is at home so he's multitasking by talking to Alexei and also cleaning Kit's endless toys off the floor. Alexei adds, "It was first English I learn when I come here. Because agent not want Mama and Papa kill him because I die in milk accident."

Kent laughs so hard that Kit flattens her ears. "So that's why your Instagam feed is full of cheese."

"Want to eat so much," Alexei moans. "Sometimes in off season I'm eat a little, even though make me sick and have gas. Trainer always know, always sigh like I'm disappoint her. And then ban me from office, sometimes weight room, because she say farts is smell too bad."

Kent laughs harder. "Shit, you're ridiculous."

"Takes one to know one," Alexei replies, and even through the connection, Kent can hear the grin.

A week later, Kent is in Toronto and Alexei is in Tampa. The Leafs trounce the Aces, and the Falcs lose in a shoot-out.

Kent doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wants to sleep. From the lack of texts on Alexei’s end, he guesses the feeling is shared. It’s fine. Everyone deals with losses their own way. Kent knows his own grief cycle by now, and how to get himself through it by the time he has to play another game. He gets on the bus to the hotel, chats with the guys who need to talk about it, and then goes to his hotel room and finds something mindless to watch for an hour. By the time he’s brushing his teeth and turning off the lights, he’s not exactly calm, but he’s not wound up so tightly that he’ll get caught in a spiral of doubt and self-blame the second his head hits the pillow.

He expects to fall asleep. He can’t.

Taking his phone off the nightstand, he checks for texts. There aren’t any. He sends a quick message anyway.

u up?

There’s no reply for such a long time that Kent gives up and puts the phone back. He’s just starting to drift when a buzz startles him back awake.

yes. skype?

Kent stares for a second. His heart thumps hard in his chest. He just sent a text, he wasn’t asking for...

He thumbs open the app and hits CALL.

Alexei answers without video. “Don’t want talk,” he says, apologetic. “Sorry. Just... sound. Room quiet, head loud.”

Kent is already lying back down, resting the phone near his head. “No, it’s okay. I get it.”

Rustling bedsheets come through the connection. “Thank you.”

Kent doesn’t say ‘you’re welcome,’ because he feels like he needs this, too. Alexei is right; the room is quiet and his head is still too loud. But with the background susurrus of someone else’s breath, he falls asleep within minutes.

Then, in the middle of the night, he stirs. It takes him a muddled moment to understand what woke him up. There’s a voice, tinny and digital, coming from his pillow, and it’s speaking in Russian.

Kent blinks at his phone, glowing in the dark. The Skype connection never cut out.

“Alexei? Are you sleep talking, or are you awake?”

“Fuck you, Santa Claus, you owe me twenty dollars,” Alexei replies, clear as day and clearly dead asleep. Kent has to bury his face in the pillow to keep from laughing. When he can manage speech, he says, “That dick. He should pay you.”

“If it’s yellow, they’ll buy it,” Alexei mutters, sounding pissed as hell. Kent puts his face back in the pillow; there are tears coming down his cheeks.

Alexei goes on, “Nevermind, it’s Wednesday,” and then two seconds later, snores lightly as he falls back into deep sleep.

It’s a long time before Kent calms down enough to sleep again. And even then, he’s still smiling.

--

The Aces’ last game of regular season is in Providence. It means nothing, because everyone has known since last week that the Falcs are going to the playoffs, while the Aces are not.

Kent works hard not to think of it as a throwaway game. He knows the team is just ready for the season to end. They missed a wild card spot by one point, which they’d have gotten if they’d pushed a game against the Hurricanes into overtime. And even though Kent knows that the Falconers win 3-2 because they’re riding the high of success while the Aces are mentally checked out, it still feels like the last nail in a coffin being lowered into a grave that he dug for himself through an entire season’s worth of small mistakes.

He doesn’t meet Alexei’s eyes when they go through the handshake line. For that reason, it’s not remotely a surprise when Alexei tries to call him after the game. But by then, the Aces are already on a flight back to Vegas, so Kent doesn’t get the notifications until after they’ve landed and disembarked.

Alexei called five times and left two messages. Kent ignores them all. When a sixth call comes through, he waits until it disconnects and then turns off his phone.

This isn’t like the few other times they Skyped overnight. Alexei can’t share this loss with him. Kent would rather he didn’t try.

--

Nashville knocks the Falcs from the playoffs in game seven of the second round. It makes Kent feel like a dick. Alexei has texted him several times and tried to call him as well, and Kent hasn’t responded, on the grounds that he wasn’t ready to stop feeling like shit. Now, Alexei will be grieving, and Kent wants to call him. But after what he did, he wouldn’t be surprised if Alexei gave him the cold shoulder in return.

He almost doesn’t reach out. But he knows he’ll be angrier with himself for not trying, than getting cut off permanently and knowing he earned it.

At 10pm on a Saturday, Kent gets up the nerve to dial. Alexei doesn’t take the call. Kent’s heart sinks into his socks and he curls up around Kit on the bed.

Ten minutes later, his phone buzzes with a text.

skype?

“I’m sorry,” Kent says as soon as the audio call connects. It’s the exact same thing as an actual phone call, but there’s symbolism at work here that doesn’t escape him for a second. “You tried to talk to me. I should have answered.”

“Apology accepted. Is okay.” Alexei sounds tired, raw. Like he’s been taking out his frustrations on himself at the gym, but instead of earning some peace, he’s just hollowed himself out. Kent knows the feeling.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Kent says. He’s still wrapped around Kit, one hand petting her and the other cradling the phone. If he closes his eyes, it feels like Alexei is in the room with him. “I’ll probably always be like this.”

“Could be worse. Could never call.”

Kent swallows. “Guess that’s true.”

“I know is true.”

Alexei sounds so confident that it drags a faint smile out of Kent. But it fades as he murmurs, “And, I’m sorry. For...” He doesn’t have to say it for Alexei to know what he means.

There’s a small silence, and then Alexei whispers, “Me, too. Want so much. Think we get, this year.”

“Yeah.”

They both fall silent. Neither hangs up. It’s getting late, and Kent knows he should sleep. He’s already dressed for bed. But he doesn’t want to hang up, not yet. “Do you want to... I don’t know. Talk about it?” The words feel trite as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“No. Not about... Don’t want talk about it. But maybe just... we talk?” He sounds hesitant. Kent has never known him to be hesitant.

“That sounds good to me,” Kent says. But then he can’t think of something to say.

Alexei chuckles. “I don’t know what talk about.”

“You could just go to sleep,” Kent says. “You talk in your sleep, you’ll say something eventually.”

“Yes, ‘weird shit,’ you tell me.” There’s still exhaustion coming through, but warmth is creeping into Alexei’s tone. “Why you want hear if it’s weird?”

“‘Cause it’s also fucking hilarious. I told you about Santa, right?”

“Asshole still owe me money.”

Kent guffaws, startling Kit. “Well, Christmas is over, so you’ll have to head up to the North Pole if you want him to pay up.”

Alexei snorts. “You say I’m say weird shit.”

“You do. You know that first night we hooked up, in Vegas, you called me a big rat?”

“I call you big rat even when not sleeping, that’s not weird shit.”

“You monologue, sometimes,” Kent insists. “In Russian. Other times you’ll have halfway normal conversations with me, which isn’t even weird, it’s creepy. And you keep asking me about turtles. Why the fuck do you care so much about turtles?”

Alexei isn’t even listening anymore, he’s laughing. It makes Kent grin, still alone on his bed in the dark except for his cat, but with Alexei’s voice filling the room it doesn’t feel so awful.

That doesn’t change how tired he is, though. A yawn escapes him.

“Kent?”

“‘M here. I can keep talking. I just might fall asleep in the middle.”

“Okay.” Alexei is smiling too, Kent can hear it. “Maybe it’s same for me, too. But I like this. I like be with you when I’m go to sleep.”

Kent’s chest feels a little tight. He reaches down to tug the bedsheets over himself, and tugs the phone closer. “Yeah. Me, too.”

[randomshyperson]

Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Thirteen

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 5.727k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Thirteen - The Star of David

Wanda was scared that if she admitted that she was happy, everything would be taken from her again. But as days go by, from waking up in your bed, sharing kisses in the morning, and having silly yet meaningful conversations in the afternoons to warm intimate touches at the night, she often comes to the conclusion that happiness didn't even get close to define how truly delight she was feeling. And that was pretty much terrifying.

The first day, there had been a little anxiety between the two of you as you woke up so wrapped together - and after so many kisses and touches exchanged before bedtime - but you smiled at her with lazy eyes, hiding your face in her neck and murmuring 'good morning, witchy' against her skin and Wanda could only think how much she wanted that every day.

The three of you were trying to fall into a normal routine, as far as the word could go for two sorceresses, a child who could open portals in a magic van around the multiverse, and despite everything, you were doing a very good job.

America had been crestfallen the first few days with the news about her world, so in addition to Wanda discovering and preparing her favorite foods, she suggested that you try to teach her about her powers again.

The van moved according to the road, but it was obvious that you were going somewhere by the discrepant change of scenery and weather. Every three or four hours, you would make the vehicle stop so that everyone could stretch their legs, and even spend some time trying to train a little with America with her portals.

At night, you slept in the same bed with Wanda, and that was probably the only reason the nightmares stopped. She let herself believe, even for a small moment, that it was because you kissed her so well that she forgot about any other problems.

Wanda grew more afraid to admit how happy she was every second, so she wasn't taken by surprise when things started to go wrong again.

It was clear that you had left the In-Between Realm when the van broke down for the first time.

You climbed off with a grimace - it was dark and fucking cold - but at least you still had a tool kit and a flashlight.

America was asleep, and Wanda looked around for a jacket before coming after you, finding you in the back of the vehicle, the panel open and a confused expression on your face.

"What happened, dorogaya?" She asked approaching you and leaning against the vehicle.

"I have no idea." You muttered half annoyed. "I didn't even know magical cars could break."

Wanda chuckled softly at your comment, moving closer to rest her face against your shoulder, and look at the smoky engine. "It's freezing. Let me fix it, and get back inside."

"Hey, who says I can't fix it?" You retort with a false offense, making her smile at your stubbornness as you clear your throat and raise your hand to the engine. "Let's see..."

You try a few times, small sparks but nothing more. Your sigh of frustration makes Wanda kiss your cheek. 

"Come on, baby, it's no big deal. Let me fix it."

But you tense up, upset. You turn your face to Wanda, and though you squeeze her waist gently, you only murmur an 'I'm sorry' and walk away inside.

Wanda swallows dryly and tries not to let it grow on her. You both know that if your magic is getting weak again, soon you will too. And the time is running short, and neither of you has any idea how to attract the gods yet.

With a simple flick of her fingers, the engine starts up again with a scarlet thread. The van makes a different sound, but Wanda smiles small when she sees that it had worked, and doesn't waste any more time outside.

She doesn't notice the way the remaining wires merge with the gold ones until they form three tiny family members' stickers on the back.

—--

Wanda has one of the Kamar Taj books - which she has no idea how you were able to memorize well enough to appear in the van - in her lap as you step out of the shower.

She raises an eyebrow at the pajama pattern.

"Don't wear that in front of America." She warns, and you give a small laugh as you dry your hair. The phrase Scarlet Witch' Little Bitch on your chest.

"I have an incredible subconscious sense of humor, you have to admit." You comment, and with a small gesture, the print changes to 'Scarlet Witch's Wife and it's your turn to raise an eyebrow at Wanda. "Better?"

"Absolutely." She replies with a small smile, and as you go to put the towel away to dry, she stows the book on one of the high shelves, lying down on the bed and waiting for you to join her.

The van moves at a slow speed, and it is almost snowing outside. As you lie down, Wanda asks if America has enough blankets, and you mumble half-heartedly that you made sure she did. She notices that you are distant because your hands are under the pillow and not around her.

"Talk to me." Wanda asks as she straightens up to look at you, and although your arm covers part of your face, she can see your eyes clearly. 

"About what?" you murmur back, your voice half-muffled by your skin.

"Anything you want." Her response makes you smile softly. 

"Sorry for breaking the car." 

Wanda sighs with a smile, shaking her head. "Detka, you know that it' s not your fault."

"I know, and it still sucks." You retort, closing your eyes for a moment. "But whatever, we knew we'd get back to real life at some point."

Wanda swallows a dry breath, hesitating for a second. She lets these insecurities fly into her head sometimes - about the fragility of the routine in the last days, about the hope of it not being temporary, about having and keeping a family by your side - and you, of course, notice.

Straightening up finally, you move one hand to Wanda's cheek, allowing her to finally see your whole face.

"Tell me what you're thinking." You ask in a whisper, and Wanda feels the tears welling up easily. She doesn't want to cry, and she hates how easily she does it. "Oh, don't cry, was it something I said?"

Your concern, your tenderness almost hurts her. She moves forward, kissing your lips hard and taking you by surprise, so she doesn't take offense when you pull away.

"Darling, talk to me." You insist with your hand firmly on her cheek, licking your lips as if not continuing what she has started requires too much control from you. "Just tell me what's wrong first. And we can go on."

Wanda nods, offering you a small smile as she raises one of her hands to your face as well.

"I'm just scared." She confesses low, fingers caressing your cheek. "I don't think I can lose someone again. I don't...I can't take it."

You swallow dryly, moving closer. "I'm not going anywhere, Wanda. You know that, don't you?"

But she doesn't answer, sniffling softly, and you pull yourself up to rest your face on your hand. "Hey, look at me." You ask, waiting until hesitant green orbs are staring back at you. "All my promises are for real, even the ones I was too stupid to keep. I said I would come back to you, and despite the delay, I am here. I said I would face the gods to be with you, and I mean it. You're my priority, I'll find us a way."

"I want to believe you, Y/N." Wanda retorts in a half-embarrassed voice. "God, I really do. This thing, this life we're having with America is the best I've felt in a long time. And I want to keep it. But... there are all these voices, and then these dreams, and I just-" Wanda cuts herself off with a small sob, shaking her head and looking down. "I'm just so scared. I don't want to be alone again."

"Wanda, I'm here." You assure moving to hover over her, face to face, noses touching. "I'm not going anywhere." You whisper against her lips, closing your eyes but you don't kiss her, moving your face down to her neck and sinking your body into her and getting a deep sigh from the witch, who moves her hands to your shoulders and hair.

"Don't leave me alone again, doragoya." She asks in a whisper, and you sigh against her skin, sharp and warm until Wanda closes her eyes as well, nails scratching your scalp. "Do you still want to talk?"

"I do, Wanda." You confess surprising her a little because she can feel the heat radiating from your body. "I want to talk to you every day. To know you, to kiss you, to love you." You continue, brushing your lips downward and Wanda gasps only when she feels your face against her covered breasts, hips instinctively throwing up into yours. But all you do is pant heavily against her before you raise your head. "Tell me something I don't know."

Wanda has to push some of the arousal away, which doesn't prove very easy with your hands coming down and your fingers making designs on the bones of her hips, but she handles facing you back as you rest your chin against her chest, and look at her in a way that makes her stomach fill with butterflies.

"Hm, like what?" she retorts trying to buy time, because since when have her eyes gotten so deep and your lips so eye-catching and-

"Anything." You murmur back, leaving her hips to embrace her fully. "I could start, but it would be too easy, you know almost nothing about me."

"Hey." Wanda complains but you only offer her a soft chuckle, both of you knowing that that was no less than a half-truth. " That' s not fair, I know you."

You only close your eyes, resting lazily against her. "Looking at someone's memories isn't exactly knowing someone. Someone told me that once."

"Who?"

"Your dad." You retort making her frown in surprise, but you continue with your eyes closed as if you were telling a weekend story. "Well, my Wanda's dad, actually. He liked me, and well... it was nice to have a father figure who thought the marriage was an incredible idea."

Wanda swallowed dryly, remembering the story America had told about the badge. She straightened up a bit, and brought one of her hands to your face, leaving the other in your hair in caresses that she knew you appreciated from the way you sighed.

"How was it, with your parents I mean, after you guys decided to try again?" She asks because she really didn't know. These memories you sped through. 

You sigh a little, and open your eyes, keeping your gaze far away though you don't move a bit away from her.

"I think we tried to be something we weren't anymore. And then, I asked Wanda to marry me, and they had the reason they wanted to send me away again." 

Wanda presses her lips together. "I'm sorry."

You shake your head, turning your gaze back to her. "Don't worry, sweetheart." You assure with a small smile. "I had people, and well, Erik was pretty supportive."

Wanda blinks in confusion, "Erik?"

"Your father?"

Wanda gives a confused giggle, "My father's name was Oleg."

It's your turn to make a confused expression. "What? But Erik was so cool!" You retort making her laugh softly. "That's weird although, usually... well, at least with my variants, we all have the same parents you know? I guess despite the magic part, the biology of the thing still makes some sense. We are the same cosmic equivalents, we are born from the same people even though we don't go through the same events and-"

"Detka, you're overthinking this." Wanda cuts in with a giggle, grabbing your face to kiss you softly before pulling away. "It's just a name. It's probably the same man, though a difference in registration."

"Could your father move metal?" You ask causing Wanda to frown in surprise.

"What?

"It's just that Erik was a mutant like my Wanda, and could move metal and-"

"I'm not your Wanda, Y/N." She interrupts sounding more aggressive than she really would like, not really understanding why she suddenly felt so uncomfortable with the subject. You swallow dryly.

"No, I didn't mean-" You begin but Wanda is straightening up and trying to put distance between your bodies and you shut up to allow it, lying down beside her as she turns her back to you.

"I'm tired, sorry." She murmurs and you sigh softly. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

"No, it's all right." You retort and are moving to sit on the bed. "I'll keep an eye on the car so it doesn't crash again, good night."

And you are leaving the bed before Wanda can say anything, but honestly, she doesn't think she would anyway. And probably because you weren't there, Wanda had another nightmare.

—--

You weren't sure how to solve this problem with Wanda. 

To you, she was your wife. No matter what she looked like, no matter the change in nationality. She was your Wanda. In any version of this multiverse, you know you would love her. She was the same person to you, as an extension of the one you started out loving on your earth and now had a new history. 

But for her, it was not like that. A part of her felt that you were using her as a replacement for your dead wife, and that made you sick to your stomach. Wanda was your wife, in any world. She was yours as you were hers.

How could you make her understand that?

"Are you all right?" America's voice cuts you from your reveries, and just then you grunt at the pain in your right hand, realizing that you had put in far more coffee than necessary.

The van was parked again, and from the views in the distance, civilization was only a few hours away. Although you didn't know what kind of universe the road had brought you, for lack of enemies or magic stones, you were positive about it.

Wanda set up a breakfast table outside, and part of you had the impression that it was just because she didn't want to sit on your lap like she had the last few days, but neither of you said anything. You went to get the coffee, and when you looked at the cross-legged figure on the bench with a magic book in her hand, looking absolutely beautiful and stunning like all the other damn times, you found yourself lost in thought. 

Your delay made America come after you.

"Shit, sorry." You muttered, quickly looking around for a cloth to clean up the mess. " I got distracted."

"I noticed." America retorts with a giggle. "What's going on between you two?"

"What? Nothing." You say too quickly, and by the arched eyebrow, you sigh. "It's not children's business." You mumble defensively, making America roll her eyes.

"Come on, I'm already 14."

"Wow, a real old lady." You mock getting a grimace from her as you finish cleaning up the coffee. "It's nothing you need to worry about, I meant, Chavez. Wives' business."

"You upset her." America accuses in a casual tone and you frown.

"What? How...?"

"She makes my favorite foods when I get upset. When she gets upset, she doesn't eat. She's reading at the table, and she didn't even ask for coffee." America explains. "So, I suggest you fix things because she is scary when she is upset."

You sigh crossing your arms. "I don't know how to do that." 

"With that, I can't help, sorry. Like you said yourself, I'm just a kid." America teases shrugging, and leaving the kitchen with a box of cupcakes, ignoring the grimace you make at her.

When you look outside and see Wanda accidentally set one of the sunflower petals on fire, and quickly apologize before going to sit even farther away from the table in the grass, you think you need to find a solution to this soon.

—-

Your first guess at Wanda's irritation is the return of Chton's influence, but to your surprise, the few times you had the courage to pester her on the subject, she offered you a short smile and assured you that she couldn't hear him anymore.

So when you arrived in the first town, and Wanda remained distant, you knew it had to be about the last fight.

"I think we've finally arrived at a place not focused on magic, guys." America commented from in front of the television in the little convenience store you were in. You didn't really need anything, but you and Wanda thought it best to investigate a little about the kind of place you ended up in. 

It was a simple place, and the salesman was a long-haired teenager who spoke very slowly and had a strong smell of pizza and dog shampoo.

"Hey, pal, can you tell us what city we are in? We were on a family trip sort of off the beaten path." You ask as soon as you say good morning to him at the counter, while Wanda and America go deeper into the store.

"S-sorry, not English..." He starts and you quickly gesture to him that it was okay. The young man sighs with relief before he begins to speak in Romanian. "How can I help?"

You opened your mouth to repeat the phrase in Romanian but grunted as you felt your translation rune burn the back of your head, and before the salesman could get any more confused, Wanda was at your side, speaking for you.

"Ah, yes, that sounds like fun! Welcome to Dragorin. I've never seen Americans this far." Commented the boy, but you only understood a few words, trying to disguise the growing headache.

Wanda offered him a polite nod before discreetly pushing you aside.

"What's wrong?" She asked worriedly, but you shook your head quickly, pushing the discomfort away to force a smile at her.

"I didn't know you spoke Romanian."

Wanda frowned. "Sokovian."

"What...?"

"Guys, is it okay if I buy this? It's so adorable." America interrupted you, appearing with a keychain of a star, which made you smile softly.

"If you're interested in Judaism, of course." You retort, approaching her. America blinks in confusion.

"What's that?"

"A religion. Didn't they have that on your planet?" You reply, and she shakes her head quickly.

"What do they believe in?"

"In one God who revealed himself through ancient prophets." It is Wanda who answers, drawing immediate attention to herself. She clears her throat. "M-my parents were Jewish."

"Cool." America murmurs with a sincere smile, but you are looking at Wanda with surprise, and she is trying to pretend she doesn't care as she moves closer to trace the item Chavez is holding.

"This is the Star of David. Peit-my brother, he used to carry one." She continues half nostalgically. "But after we lost our parents, and the war got worse, we lost our connection to faith in many ways. I don't think I would even know how to quote anything from the Tanakh if I tried." She murmurs with a sad laugh, and finding the same in her and America's gaze, she clears her throat. "Anyway... I guess you could use this just as America's star for now. And if you ever want to learn about Judaism or any other religion, Y/N or I can help you with that."

"Oh, no, it's okay." America says with a small smile, returning the item to the keychain shelf. "We have no religions, but we have learned on my planet that symbols carry great meanings. I wouldn't want to appropriate this." She says, and you and Wanda can't help the proud smile you share. 

"Hey, what were you talking about this world not caring about magic before?" You ask remembering, and America quickly points to the television in the back of the store, where a local news report on what appears to be about vegetable gardens is playing.

"I guess things are quiet around this world." America murmurs, and you nod in agreement, ruffling her hair affectionately before asking if she wants anything that isn't magic food to eat before you head back to the van.

Neither of you notices Wanda swallowing dryly at the keychain of the Republik Transien National Flag.

—------

Only when you were back driving through the beautiful flatlands of Transia, and Wanda fell asleep in the passenger seat, did you discover that her distance was on account of nightmares.

America was eating non-magical hamburgers on the couch - for which she was kind enough to say that your powers cooked the meat better - and with crossword puzzle magazines that she got from the convenience store with the local currency, because Wanda didn't want her to steal it, and she had enough magic to conjure up some very real bills.

You were softly humming a song that you now couldn't pronounce anymore since your rune had simply stopped working, and tapping your fingers on the steering wheel when Wanda suddenly jumped out of her seat and you almost lost control of the car.

"Jesus Christ, Wanda!" You exclaimed in fright, ignoring the honking and cursing of the other drivers as you quickly parked the car on the shoulder, and turned your attention back to Wanda breathing heavily on the seat and looking on the verge of tears. "Hey, hey, baby, it was just a bad dream..." You started but when you went to touch her she jumped again, and began to cry, hiding her face between her hands.

You were out of the seat in record time, almost breaking your seat belt. 

"Wanda, I'm here, focus on my voice. Can you do that for me?" You insisted in a mixture of desperation and concern, your hands in her lap, and face, trying to bring her out of her panicked state. 

"N-no, I can't...I'm so sorry...I would never do that to you, I wouldn't-" She cried out disconnected sentences, barely breathing between pauses.

"Here, feel my hand. Focus on my breathing." You guided her without losing your calm, holding her against you.

Long, long tense minutes for her breathing to return to normal again, her forehead resting against yours. But she was still crying.

"I'm so sorry..." She gasped sinking her face into your neck, and you swallowed dryly, not knowing what she was talking about, but being able to imagine the kind of dream.

"Darling, don't worry, it was just a bad dream." You murmured softly, your hands caressing her back. "You would never hurt me, Wanda."

She hugged you tighter, and then something hit the car.

For long moments, you saw only water. 

Miles and miles, and a clear sky that reflected the wet ground. You were in the center, without shoes. You tried to look around, but there was nothing but still water. 

Then, your eyes saw a temple, and you were moving.

And you were back on the ground with a sharp pain in your abdomen.

It was obvious the impact had thrown you out of the car. Your ears were ringing, and when you forced yourself up, worry in your mind, you grunted in pain, but you were satisfied to find nothing broken.

Your tranquility ended very quickly as you looked forward to the Van. Whatever hit you came from behind. It threw you through the glass and you flew a good few feet away.

Through the broken window you saw that the vehicle was empty.

"W-wanda? America?" You asked immediately, ignoring the pain from the cuts to stand upright. You recognized some lights coming out of the area covered by the wrecked vehicle, and crawled in that direction.

You only had time to recognize Wanda with her fists raised and glowing scarlet as her eyes before one of the figures fighting her hit you with some kind of shield.

It threw you hard against the broken van, and you dodged at the last second a closed fist in its direction.

"What the hell is going on?" You managed to shout in confusion as the fight continued. Your opponent was a girl - angry and brunette - wearing a blue helmet. "Why. are. you. trying. to. kill. me?" You punctuated each question with a deflection of her punches.

She grunted impatiently, hitting your legs and you fell to the ground with your hands in front of your body. Before she could land the kick she planned to land on your stomach, scarlet magic threw her away from you.

The opposing group stepped back a bit, adjusting their position. There were three of them - Furious Girl in the right corner with her shield from England, a cloaked lady with a staff that was sure to do a lot of damage, and a third helmeted figure in the center, with some sort of golden armor - and they seemed well up for a bad fight.

Wanda used her magic to get you on your feet and pull you close to her.

"I won't ask again. Give the girl back." That's what she says, and it only makes your desperation grow for not having seen America yet. 

Instead of answering Wanda, the Knight in front pulls a glowing white sword from their back, going into a fighting state.

"Make sure she doesn't kill any more variants." Says the figure to the other two. Wanda grunts impatiently at your side, and raises her hand, with a simple movement of her fingers, the two girls are enveloped in a red mist, which makes the knight flinch. 

"Don't exhaust my patience." She warns, but to everyone's surprise, the Knight only moves forward. 

It's a mess. At the first moment, you think Wanda is holding back, and you don't even have a full minute to realize that her magic is actually not working properly. Everything she tries to attack, the Knight blocks with the white sword, and the scarlet threads unravel in the air. 

It disturbs Wanda enough that the old woman with the staff breaks free - and confirms your theory that she was a witch as well - and starts interfering in the duel, releasing the other one as too.

You immediately move to face them together, and in your state, it would be suicide. Except that apparently, they have no intention of actually hurting you at all.

"No, Peggy!" The Witch oddly stops the shield with her staff just before it hits your stomach. "Remember that she's just another victim."

Peggy grunts softly, the shield in hand. You don't give her time to respond from you, spinning on the ground and attacking her. You feel the witch conjure something in your back, and suddenly you can't strike anymore, hands clamped to your back by very painful black chains.

You lose your balance, looking forward. Wanda is losing it, somehow, she is. 

"Stop." You plead as the knight hits her in the face and she loses her balance, falling onto one knee. "No." You grunt with tears in your eyes, struggling against the chains.

"Do it, now!" Peggy shouts to the knight, and without delay, they move forward. The sword goes through Wanda at chest height, but it is you who screams. 

The chains explode in your hands, and the staff witch is thrown against the van as Peggy flies to the other side. 

The Knight fearlessly removes the sword, while Wanda presses on the wound with an expression of pure shock. 

You try to attack, but the Knight knows all your moves, and masterfully deflects and blocks them all. Within seconds, they hit you with the top of the sword and you fall to your knees.

"Wanda..." You gasp, reaching out to reach the fallen figure on the ground, but the knight grabs you by the collar of your shirt.

"Free yourself." She says, and you frown as you recognize your own voice. No time to question, though. You feel a familiar cold air behind you, and in the next second, you are pushed into a portal.

You try to go back, but it closes in and you only find a damp wall.

"No, no, no..." You start in desperation, punching the concrete. "Wanda-"

"Y/N!" Suddenly, America is hugging you around the waist. You spin around confused, hugging her back but looking around in complete confusion. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"America, what?" you start, but someone pulls her away from you, tugging you against the wall and pressing a very sharp dagger on your neck. "Okay, this is happening."

"Are you still asleep, puppet?" Asks a female voice with a strong accent that makes your eyes widen.

"My god, Natasha?" You exclaim in surprise, but the knife doesn't waver. "Oh, damn, you must not know me in this world-"

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Y/N." She retorts, and finally, the iron mask of her armor opens, and you can see the familiar - albeit bruised - face of your otherworldly friend. "Remember it well from your funeral."

You swallow dryly, in shock, and she presses you a little harder. "So tell me, are you still one of the witch's puppets?"

"Stop it!" America intervenes from the other side, a boy also masked was holding her by the arms. "She came with me! We are not being controlled by anyone!"

"Nat, it's Y/N! It shouldn't work on her right?" asks the boy holding America, and the redhead finally flinches, sighing softly.

"It's no sin to be careful." She says before putting the dagger down, and you grimace as you raise your hand to the red scar around your neck. America releases herself from her grip and runs back to you, wrapping her arms around your waist again.

You realize now that you are in some kind of cell - dark and damp and scary - with several mattresses on the floor, tables, and weapons, on the walls too. It makes you squeeze America harder.

"Who the hell are you people?" You question Nat and the five other masked men in the back of the room. The redhead gives a wry laugh.

"Definitely not from this universe." Is her reply before she turns away to look out the windows, from where you can hear fireworks. "We're running out of time, if Carter doesn't come back-"

"Where's Wanda?" You interrupt almost in desperation, startling the room. "I don't- God, she got hurt. And we're in the van, and suddenly the knight was there and we-"

You felt panic take over your chest. What if Wanda, what if she was...?"

"Are you sure she's not another puppet?" Natasha comments distrustfully, but suddenly the boy who was holding America is in front of you, as quickly as a blink of an eye.

"How did you meet her? Where did you come from?" He questions tilting his head slightly as if to analyze you, but you are leaning your hands on the wall behind you, trying to breathe properly. "Natasha, there's something different about this one."

Natasha rolls her eyes, and America is trying to calm you down, one hand on your shoulder. 

"There' s nothing different, she must be coming out of the spell or something!" Rationalizes the redhead. "Maximoff, we don't have time for that!"

But the boy pulls the mask off and kneels down at the height you sat against the wall. You choke in surprise to see young Pietro standing in front of you.

"Hey, you know me don't you?" He asks gently and ignores Natasha's grumbling in the background about that being a waste of time. "How do you know Wanda?"

"She's my wife."

He widens his eyes in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping his lips. "Wife? No way."

"That doesn't mean anything, Maximoff!" Natasha argues from the side with impatience, though Pietro continues to look at you with impressed eyes. "So what if in one of the million realities, she decided to put on a ring instead of pulling a knife? It doesn't mean anything! Get back to work!"

You blinked in confusion, still in a half-panicked state, and Pietro stood up suspiciously. 

"But that's never happened before, right, Nat? What if that's the Y/N she's looking for?"

"That's impossible because in case you've forgotten, our little witch has spent the last few months going into other universes after her! Do you really expect me to believe that the right Y/N would come right here?" Natasha argues back.

The argument begins to escalate. They shout about some kind of fight, and someone is looking for something and looking for you too. Your head is spinning, and there is a very strong taste of iron in your mouth.

When your back starts to burn, and you lose your balance forward, needing America's help not to fall to the ground, the discussion stops.

"She's bleeding." Someone says, and your shirt is being pulled off. Someone places you face down on one of the mattresses on the floor, and you recognize the familiar warmth of America's hand in yours.

"It's okay, Y/N, they're going to bandage your bruises." She whispers to you, but it's definitely not just that.

It burns like they are cutting you instead of helping you. You muffle your cries and tears against the dirty pillow beside your head, and just when it feels like the pain is going to kill you, it stops.

The room is completely silent until you hear quiet footsteps approaching.

Your face is wet with sweat, and you are breathing hard. When you raise your eyes to the door from which you heard the sound, you sigh softly.

"Hello, Y/N." Erik Lehnsherr greets you neutrally, hands folded behind his body, a black cloak resembling everyone's clothes. "It's good to finally meet our Guardian."

You don't answer back, letting exhaustion take over your body.

--//--