don't touch that dial

[ostavil]

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."

Comments

[explosion]

"That's easy," she says, her voice lower than usual as she practices her American accent, "you're just the brawn." It's easier to slip into her lighter Sokovian when she continues her teasing, "If you were the beauty, too, then we would have a very big problem." Wanda smiles sweetly at him and pats his arm, ensuring to touch his sleeve and not the heavy metal beneath.

Barnes might tuck his arm into hers to help convey their little charade of a happily married couple, but she knows better. She suspects that, despite having spent decades with the weight of his arm, he's still getting used to being conscious and wearing it. It's not easy being burdened with something permanent. And all she wishes for is not to remind him of it or to touch it without being asked to. She knows what it's like to be poked and prodded like she's nothing close to human.

She looks away from him as she surveys the street. She likes it here. She's always liked the houses and some of the picket fences. No matter how many walks they take and no matter how many she takes on her own, she likes observing the houses, the way the leaves fall, and how everyone around them takes it for granted. She remembers when the leaves stopped falling in Sokovia.

Looking away from him also plays into her hand slightly. She doesn't have any answers for him. All Wanda knows is that, lately, anything she wants, she gets. An inconspicuous house. Fewer prying questions. Easy waves and warm smiles and no lingering, strange looks.

Of all the things she's afraid of, it's questioning their seemingly good luck.