ostavil | don't touch that dial

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wanda

don't touch that dial

They're the two most terrifying people on the planet and wanted by several governments but they're playing house in the middle of nowhere and not a single person can tell. Bucky's used to being invisible and silent and he'd managed to hide out in Romania for longer than he should have been able to by living on cash only, working under the table, keeping to the shadows. This is different. This is a real life that he can have, out in the open, and nobody even thinks he's suspicious at all.

It's a very, very good thing that HYDRA no longer has control of Wanda Maximoff.

When they're out in public, he keeps his face away from cameras and his arm hidden; a hat and Wanda's tricks do the rest. He can take his time picking out food, plan meals, pretend to have the friendly banter that a husband and wife would have. It's nothing he's never had before and this kind of stability almost feels like he's stealing the life he was supposed to have after the war. There's some other version of him who died falling from that train and maybe it's that version that's getting a new lease on life now.

It's autumn and the leaves have started to turn, yellow like the sun and scarlet like Wanda's hair and there's a brisk wind that says there's gonna be a storm in a day or two. Rain or snow, he isn't sure, but it's Canada so it can go either way. He has his left arm slid into Wanda's to cover up that it doesn't hang naturally the same as his right does and nobody suspects a thing. Their neighbors aren't ever curious, there's no surveillance, there's nothing to worry about. It's a strange feeling but a good one.

"You know, if you can figure out how to explain it to my tiny soldier brain I would love to know how you managed to keep our house invisible from everyone else. Small words, though. I'm all brawn and no brains."

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Wanda gazes down at him before she shakes her head. Touching she can do, even though she knows she's akin to a skittish animal right now. She's outside of her element, and while she suspects that Bucky knows that, her not erecting all of her walls to protect her from that discomfort at something new has to mean something to her. He's opened up to her; she figures it's only fair that she lets herself have something she often stops before it can even start.

"Don't tickle me," she says pointedly. She reluctantly rests her chin against the edge of his shoulder so that she can see his profile and he'd be able to tip his head toward her and see some of her. She relaxes somewhat, although she still holds herself tensely. "Not that I'm ticklish, of course," she finishes softly.

"Not planning on it," Bucky says. He shifts his hand a little higher and just strokes his fingers lightly. If he was looking to actively get her off, he'd be a little more insistent, but he's not. He just wants to touch and see how Wanda reacts to it and if he learns anything for next time, he learns something.

"Why don't you kiss me? Kiss me while I touch you a little?"

He thinks that's a safe enough place to start and if she doesn't like it, she can stop it.

"Like before?"

She has a feeling that's not what he means. Wanda hadn't minded touching his chest and kissing what she had been allowing herself to daydream about until she'd take an editor's knife and cut it out of her mind when Bucky used to be unattainable. She likes Bucky's chest; she's enjoyed it when he's stood closely behind her or when she's accidentally walked into him. She's a simple woman despite all the complications she brings.

"Or like this?" she asks more quietly before she lifts up and shifts against him, moving so she can kiss the corner of his mouth. The placement isn't purposeful—she'd been meaning to slant her mouth directly over his—but she much likes what she achieved, nonetheless. It feels more like her, not doing things so perfectly.

Bucky murmurs a yes against her lips and kisses her and even though the angle is a little off, it doesn't matter. It's still good. Sometimes things don't have to stay in the lines to be perfect and while they have a picket-fence kind of life, maybe it doesn't have to be so perfect behind closed doors. Weren't the best parts of life the messy ones?

He slides his hand up higher and touches her, really touches her, and while his fingers are light and aimless, he's still touching her a lot more intimately than he had been earlier. Maybe he can just ease into this a little at a time and eventually they'll both be more relaxed with one another.

He just hopes that Wanda doesn't pull away.

Wanda tenses and squeezes her thighs together, effectively trapping his hand. But she wills herself to relax at the unfamiliar touch. She wishes she was more like him, comfortable at the presence of a kind hand, accepting of gentleness. She worries uselessly—about what he feels, if he likes it, if he thinks any of this is worth it with how taut she always seems to be.

She's distracted by his touch, not quite kissing him back, although she keeps her lips pressed against his. Parting her legs slightly, she makes a soft noise low in her throat. She doesn't hate the touch; Wanda couldn't, not with the way he takes to her so gently like she's something worth being admired by hand.

Although she's very aware of his hand against her cunt, she slopes her mouth firmly against his, still gentle in her kiss even when she cups the sides of his face to tilt his head slightly toward her.

The kiss is good enough that he gets distracted for a moment and stops moving his fingers and just focuses on kissing Wanda and feeling her soft lips against his and her hair touching his skin. It's probably one of the better kisses he's had in his life if only because it's this soft, delicate intimacy and he hasn't had a lot of that.

He pulls away just enough to whisper against her mouth, "Stop me when it's too much," and slips his fingers against her again, glad to see she's at least a little slick and this at least feels good for her even if she isn't coming from it. That's good.

"Just relax and kiss me, all right?"

Touching his face, Wanda doesn't pull away when she nods. She exhales roughly through her nose and shifts her hips slightly in a bid to relax, but tenses her legs instead. All she needs is a moment to metaphorically shake it off.

When she kisses him again, it's a little harder. She traces his lips with her tongue before she pulls away to only kiss him again, but softer this time. She wants all that anxious energy to go somewhere else. She wants not only to prove to him that she'll let herself have this rather than self-sabotage, but show herself that she can trust herself with him, too.

And she thinks of what she wants, of what Bucky would prompt her to ask for to have her relax. She'd wanted his metal hand to touch her earlier; her desire for it hasn't changed. She wants what makes him different to warm her naked back.

Can you put your other hand on my back? But what she doesn't realise as she kisses him is that she doesn't ask it, but thinks it loud and clear in his head.

It takes him a moment to realize that Wanda hadn't asked him the question out loud and had merely thought it but it isn't something that bothers him. She's a telepath and he's touching her in a way she's not familiar with - it makes sense that she might not have the rigid control she usually does. Honestly, it's a little refreshing.

He slides his left hand up to touch her back, just laying the weight of it there in a way he hopes feels comfortable to her, and he keeps kissing her, running the edge of his tongue against her lower lip before biting it gently. He doesn't stop his hand, either, and traces against her with two fingers in an absent sort of way, just letting her get used to it.

That better? Bucky thinks it as purposefully as possible because he's not sure how telepathy works.

That's much better. Although she'd like his hand to move up and down her back, she just wants its weight and coolness to remind her that she's safe. And while it's not the part of Bucky anyone would deem is safe, it's a part of him that he's chosen to use to help her, protect her, and now even hold her.

Against his mouth, she says, "Yes", but frowns when she hears how strange her voice had sounded in comparison to his. She gasps, but not because of the ministrations of his fingers. Cupping her face with her hands, she abruptly sits upright, uncaring of his fingers nestled against her, and stares down at him horrified.

Cursing the equivalent of Oh fuck in Sokovian, Wanda's quick to say in a very heavy and apologetic accent, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to do that."

Her one rule since living with Bucky was to never enter his head. She wouldn't read his mind, wouldn't accept the temptation of giving into the niggling of his thoughts, and wouldn't plant any thoughts or ideas in his head no matter how tempting it often is.

"S'all right, doll," Bucky says, smiling up at her. "You were distracted and it got the job done. I just don't think I did the thinking back very well because I don't know what I'm doing."

Her accent is thicker and Wanda usually only does that when she's nervous so Bucky wants to make this as little of a deal as possible. He'd be upset if she pried into his thoughts without permission on purpose but she'd just asked him a question and it was harmless. He rubs his hand along her back to try to soothe her.

"Stop worrying," he says, using Sokovian instead of English. "Just enjoy yourself."

Keeping her hands covering most of her face, she shakes her head. She won't do it again. Next time, she'll catch herself before she does it. It's a slippery slope and not one she ever wants to find herself on. Even though she'd only ever fallen down that slope once during her earlier days of understanding her ability, it's one she'll never fall from again.

She moves her hands down to cover her mouth as she peers down at him. "It won't happen again," she says quietly, her accent still thick. Then in Sokovian: "I promise."

Reluctantly—and mostly at the encouragement of his hand rubbing her back—she slowly lowers herself back down against him. Curling her hands against his shoulders once more, she doesn't hide her face in the crook of his neck like she wants to. She hovers above him.

Instead, she tries to lighten the mood just a touch and teases gently, "You think very loudly. I would be able to hear you from the sidewalk across the street."

"Yeah? Maybe you just gotta teach me the right way to think. I'm not too smart, you know. I'm just a guy from Brooklyn."

Bucky knows plenty of things, to be honest, and it isn't just the languages and the combat - he knows history and science and math. Still, it's a little fun just to pretend he's a dumb guy with a really smart girl and he hopes that Wanda will play along for the moment. He pulls his right hand from between her legs and strokes it along her arm.

"How am I 'sposed to think, Wanda?"

"Quiet."

She'll let his playful self-deprecation slide for now. While she still feels like jumping out of her skin for slipping, Wanda appreciates his hand on her arm. It's distracting and comforting, just like his metal arm had been on her back.

What he asks is a serious question, and Wanda thinks to reply in that manner.

"Like I'm in the room right beside you," she says, not switching to her lighter American. While she often defaults to her natural way of speaking when she's anxious, she can't explain this as anyone else but Wanda from Sokovia. That little girl beneath the rubble is the girl who transformed thoughts into stories, and while she didn't have her powers then, Wanda feels like that little girl now sharing this with him. It's an important part of herself, just like her love for stories. "Like this. I'll hear you no matter how loud everyone else is."

Bucky tries it again except this time he thinks it more casually, more like a conversation, and he keeps touching her the whole time. He thinks the touch is important because as much as it grounds him, he thinks it grounds Wanda a bit too and she needs something to feel good and safe for her. He wants to be that for her.

Did I ever tell you that you were my favorite, sweetheart?

He thinks he's doing it right this time and if he isn't, he guesses that Wanda can correct him again. Maybe this is something they can do sometimes because it feels incredibly intimate in a way that would be terrifying with anyone else but feels right with her.

Better, even if he's still a little loud.

Wanda rolls her eyes and looks at him with amusement. This is such a Buckyism, and she wonders if he's trying to make her blush again. She sits up against him, uncaring for once that she's naked, and rests her hands against his chest as she peers down at him. For once, she wants to sit on top of him and roll her shoulders slightly rather than lie against him.

She opens her mouth to speak, but presses her lips together and takes a moment to breathe deeply before she allows herself to respond in kind. She absently scratches lightly at his skin with a nail.

Your favourite what?

It feels like she's taken the bait.

Favorite person. You're my favorite person.

It means a lot to say it, to admit that he even has a favorite person or that he's allowed himself to care deeply enough to admit that he needs her in his life but it feels a little easier to think it and not say it out loud. Maybe it's something he should say out loud, yeah, but for now he'll keep it to their private thoughts.

You're the person I want to tell everything to and the person I want to make happy. The rest of the world can hang as long as I have you.

He's noticed that she shifted so he can see her more easily but he's just looking at her face for now, studying the lines of it as if he hasn't already committed it to memory a thousand times over.

Wanda doesn't reply immediately, although she doesn't frown or scowl or hide her face away. She sits astride him and looks down at him, and feels the same intense sincerity he speaks aloud within his thoughts. Thoughts are where she finds people are most truthful, and while his thoughts are intentionally strung together, his sincerity can't be manufactured in the same way.

She ducks her gaze for a moment, smiling softly to herself. She shouldn't be his favourite person, but he remains steadfast in his affection and loyalty for her. Maybe she should let herself simply accept it for once.

You're my favourite old person.

She smiles at that.

Parting her lips, she inhales deeply before she swallows. Despite appearing like she wants to say something, she stalls for a long moment. Rather than speak what's on her mind, she decides to take a page out of his book. It feels safer, even if she should say it aloud so he can hear it reverberate differently to the thoughts in his head, but this way, she can hide in plain sight.

Can we swap? I want you to touch me, but not like this.

She doesn't want to lay sprawled out on top of him and use her weight and the angle to her advantage to hide. He's accepted a part of her, perhaps the most core part of who she is, with ease… and she finds that at this moment, the fear and anxiety of him seeing all of her are outweighed by her desire to trust him completely rather than in slivers.

Yeah, we can swap.

Bucky eases her from on top of him to roll to her back instead and he lays on his hip beside her. He can see all of her this way but he takes a moment to arrange her hair so it covers her breasts a little better and hopes that's a compromise she'll accept. He doesn't want Wanda to feel exposed or uncomfortable, especially since he's going to touch her, so this is better for now.

Once they're arranged, though, he cups her breast gently in his right hand and leans in to kiss her, lips soft against hers. He wants to keep all of this slow and gentle because he doesn't want Wanda to feel like there's any pressure to do one thing or the other. He just wants her to enjoy herself.

It's weird now that she's on her back. She doesn't know what to do with her hands. Does she rest them by her sides or against her belly? Will that prove to be an obstacle for him later? Or does she reach out to him? She's thinking too much, and not in the way that they've begun to think to one another.

She sighs softly and opts to thread a hand through his short hair, leaving her other one to grip at the bedsheets. Opening her mouth beneath his, she shifts her legs, lightly digging a heel into the bed and bending her knee slightly.

This is the most naked she's ever been. Although he's been kind enough to arrange her long hair, she's still so naked before him. Before placing those thoughts into his head, she still felt clothed in a way. She doesn't want anything other than for Bucky to touch her and for her to let herself be touched when she's refused it for so long.

Bucky moves his lips from her mouth to move along her neck and he sucks lightly at the hollow of her throat, wanting to leave a mark there that he can see in the morning. Is that possessive? Yes. Does he care? No. No one is competing for his affections with Wanda but he doesn't want anyone getting ideas to do it, either.

"Can I kiss you lower?" he asks, pausing for a moment. He wants to shift down and kiss her breasts, too, but he doesn't want to do something that's going to upset Wanda and take her out of the situation. He'd rather her be comfortable and happy than him get something he wants and this is about what she enjoys right now.

"I don't have to if you don't want me to."

Wanda hums in contentment at Bucky tending to her neck. She wishes for him to stay there until her skin's purple and raw, but she drags her fingertips along his scalp and nods.

"Yes," she says quietly. She doesn't remove her hand from the back of his head, trailing her fingers through what she can of his hair. She much prefers it short; she likes being able to see his face and blue eyes, even if his face is currently buried in the crook of her neck.

And, as she peers down at him with her eyes half-closed, she adds for good measure: "I want you to."

Bucky smiles against her skin and moves his lips lower along her breastbone and then over to one of her breasts, gently kissing along the slope of it. He tries not to openly stare but to just look at Wanda's eyes as much as he can before dipping his head down to kiss her again and again. When he thinks she might be warmed up for it, he slides just the tip of his tongue along her nipple and then sucks it gently between his lips.

He thinks if he does everything slowly and deliberately then Wanda will be able to just focus on her own body and not the thoughts of other people or even his thoughts. Maybe all of it will drift away and she'll just think about the two of them together and how much they care about one another. While he kisses her, he slides his left hand up to cup her other breast, still marveling that her magic has made it so she can feel something with it. It isn't the same as the right, no, but it's something.

This is a gift that no one but Wanda could give him and he wants to pay it back in kind.

Wanda hums low in her throat and fidgets slightly beneath him. While she wants to look at him, she tilts her head up and closes her eyes as she drags her fingers through his hair. She likes that he's trusting his metal hand; even if his touch is a little different than his right hand, she can make do with the soft harshness because she knows what it means for him to use it.

She exhales loudly through her nose and moans softly. Even though she's not picking at his thoughts, his concentration is like being hit with a wave at the beach. She can feel it lapping at her feet even if he doesn't intend for it to try and knock her over.

"You can stop thinking so much," she murmurs a little breathlessly. "I'm fine; you're fine. I like this." And to emphasise what she likes in particular, she roughly slides the hand not in his hair over her side to touch his left hand.

“Am I really that loud?”

Bucky has to laugh at it because he’s never thought about how loud he thinks or how hard he concentrates, not before now, and now he feels like he has to be aware of it so he isn’t bothering Wanda with it. She seems to take it in stride, though, and when she touches his left hand he squeezes her breast with it lightly. He wishes he could feel more but feeling it at all is amazing enough and it’s some magic he will never ever be able to thank her for.

Maybe all the thanks she needs will be in the kisses and touches he gives her. He dips his head again and barely edges his teeth against her nipple before sucking at it again. It feels good to take the time and maybe Wanda not being concerned with the end result is a good thing. Maybe he shouldn’t be racing to the finish and should just be enjoying the journey.

She inhales loudly and lets out a noise that sounds like it's on the verge of being a whimper. Sliding her hand to his nape, she deliberately curls her fingers and drags her nails against his skin.

"You… always have been," she says hesitantly, only reluctant to voice it because of what it implies. Even before they'd been saddled with one another after the events in Germany, Wanda had always found him to be loud in the moments when they shared space. Always worrying, always thinking, always seemingly plotting a way to push Steve away.

She's sensed it here, worrying about her. Where she had originally focused on him to ensure the safety of her friend, it's morphed into personal interest. And he worries about her now, with her at fault for bringing something that he needn't worry about to the forefront of his mind.

"Don't worry about it," she whispers and arches her back off the bed to try and distract him. "Please."

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