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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While Wanda continues to rest her head against her knee, she leans toward him when he wraps his metal arm around her. She hides behind her other hand, pushing her palm against her face as if her heel can somehow stop her from crying. Even if he refuses to be mad at her, she's hurt the one person she cares about. It's an invasion and cruelty she promised he'd never feel again.

She shakes her head. She doesn't want to know why he still trusts her because he shouldn't. But she sniffs hard and wipes at her eyes and smears her tears. She rests her hand on his upper thigh and grips it hard.

"Why?" she asks, her voice small. Wanda doesn't deserve to know, but Bucky has a right to voice those reasons after decades of being forced to be silent.

"You told me to stop. You could have kept going, could have finally gotten that orgasm that you could never quite get and I wouldn't have known the difference, right? But you didn't do that. As soon as you realized what you did, you told me to stop and move away. If you wanted to hurt me, you wouldn't have done that. So I trust you."

He turns his head and kisses her hair. Bucky suspects that Wanda just needs to be held right now and he's more than happy to do the holding. Sex is off the table for tonight and possibly for days or weeks but physical touch is something he still thinks is important for them.

"You care enough about me to not want to control me. You want me to be myself. You didn't fuck anything up and it was just an accident."

She removes her head from her knee and curls into him, taking the arm not around her to hug to her chest. She nods her head. All she wants is for him to be himself. She doesn't want to be in his head, making him do anything. She wants it all to be him.

That's what she had wanted from the start, but Wanda supposes perhaps she had wanted it too much.

Wiping at her face again, she turns her face into his chest to impulsively kiss his skin before resting her forehead against him.

"I have to make sure it won't happen again," she says quietly. How, she doesn't know, but she's determined to figure it out. For now, she wants to let herself have this. Rather than refuse everything he says and his efforts to comfort her, she wants to let herself accept what he's offering. He's shown her he won't lead her astray in that regard.

Hesitantly, she asks, "How… did it feel?"

"It didn't hurt. It made me feel...I felt as if it was the right thing to do, the thing that would make me so happy. I wanted to please you more than anything and I knew exactly how to do it. You didn't hurt me, Wanda. I swear you didn't."

Bucky is a little frightened she'd gotten into his head, sure, but he also knows it was accidental. Wanda is so careful to keep away from his mind, so careful not to violate what HYDRA violated for decades.

"It's okay. I don't hate you for it, all right? You didn't mean to."

She's slow to nod, although she has some difficulty in accepting that he doesn't hate her for it. He should. It'd be so easy to make him, but for all of her self-sabotaging tendencies when it comes to her facing potential contentment or even happiness, Wanda, of course, doesn't. That's up to him. And while that desire to self-sabotage is prevalent even now, Wanda doesn't want him to hate her.

"I wouldn't blame you if you changed your mind," she says quietly, peering up at him. She curves the corners of her lips upward as though that's the joke. But, really, it'd be up to him if he changed his mind on his current stance.

"I'm just glad it didn't hurt you." Vehemently, she whispers, "But it won't happen again."

"I trust you. Think about it, Wanda - I could have hurt you with my arm, right? I could have bruised you or something and I would have felt awful. It's a part of me. Just as much as that's a part of me, it's a part of you to have magic and accidents happen."

Bucky doesn't want Wanda to feel bad about this. He wants her to understand that he still cares for her and wants this to work. He wants to be with her, all of her, and that includes the magical part of her as well. He wants to cherish her the way she deserves.

"Do you want me to just hold you for a little while, Wanda? Just to have the comfort? Because I could do with comforting you right now so you can tell yourself it's just for me."

"Okay," she says quietly, smiling softly. Being held sounds nice—and if it's something Bucky wants, then Wanda thinks it's only fair to make sure he gets it… even if it's something that most likely will make her feel a lot better, too. She had liked lying on top of him earlier and simply being held. It's those moments that she appreciates the most. "That would be really nice."

She widens her smile and laughs quietly, "I'll think it's just for you since you look like you have very bony shoulders." She pokes him in the shoulder with her index finger. It's her attempt to lighten the mood.

Bucky laughs at that because his shoulder is mostly pure muscle and if she feels bone, it's only because everyone has bone there and not because he's especially bony. God, he loves this woman, and even if she makes mistakes he hopes he can help her pick up and try again because she deserves more out of life than guilt. He's lived that life and he's done with it.

"You know there's nothing but muscle here, baby. It's all I am. Of course, you were complaining about that earlier too so I don't know how to please you. Just know I wanna try."

He gives her his best attempt at puppy eyes and pulls her to curl up alongside him where she can pillow her head on his chest if she wants to. He idly drifts his fingers through her hair.

"I ever tell you I love your hair?"

As she rests her head against his chest and wedges her foot none too gently against his calf, Wanda mouths Not too bony incredulously and leaves it at that. She makes a mental note that perhaps calling his shoulders 'bony' in the near future might have him call her 'baby' again. She hadn't minded it. She rests her palm against his side.

Briefly, she wonders if during her accident she had somehow revealed she liked her hair played with. Wanda decides no, she mustn't have; not everything Bucky will do from this moment on is because of some seed she's unintentionally planted in his head. He's simply discovered it on his own without knowing it.

As for his question, she thinks to tell him no, but Wanda opts for continuing to tease him. She prefers a gentle chaotic approach, especially in light of everything. "I was thinking of chopping it all off."

"I would be sad but it's your hair. I could grow mine out," he teases, giving her a bright grin. "Go back to the homeless look. It was really working for me in Bucharest and I could definitely blend in for a long time with that hair and a cap. Nobody wanted to walk near me because it looked like I hadn't showered in a month."

Bucky doesn't think he's going to go back to long hair. It had been a pain in the ass, for one, and for two he likes it short and out of the way. He doesn't like having it cut but Wanda can do it for him and he trusts her not to come at him with a pair of scissors to stab him in the jugular and to, you know, only cut his hair.

"What'd you do if I grew it out?"

She instantly scrunches her nose in distaste. While Bucky had been attractive even with the long hair, she much prefers his short hair. It doesn't distract from his eyes and she thinks it being a hairstyle he hadn't been forced to wear makes him appear more confident.

She doesn't afford him the same luxury as he does her.

"Change all the locks and make you sleep outside until you cut it again." With her cheek pressed against his warm skin, she shakes her head. "I told you I never liked the homeless look. It's not you."

Bucky laughs, a warm rumble in his chest, and he traces little patterns on Wanda's skin. The idea of her changing the locks and making him sleep outside until he cut his hair is hilarious and he wonders if she would have the resolve to actually do it or if it's just a threat. He decides he doesn't want to find out.

"Well, as long as you'll keep doing my hair and I don't have to go to a stranger, then I'll keep it cut short. I don't trust anyone with sharp objects near me. Call me paranoid but I was a killer too long."

Bucky knows a million ways to kill someone and while he knows his imagination can come up with more things than the average person, he doesn't want to risk it.

Wanda's silent for a long moment, grateful to be tucked against his chest where he can't see her face. Her mind wanders to Pietro and his thick head of hair and how he was the same. He trusted no one to go near him with a pair of scissors after Mama had died. She'd always cut his hair, entertaining him even when he'd complain of an imaginary stray hair remaining in an otherwise perfect haircut.

She thinks to keep that to herself, but if Bucky's going to trust her with a pair of scissors, then she can trust him with her brother.

"I used to cut Pietro's hair," she says, smiling softly. Her chest feels heavy so she shifts against him to try and move it. "He used to say I was very, very bad. Are you sure you want a hairdresser with such rave reviews?"

She has a good inkling she already knows his answer.

If she used to cut Pietro's hair, it's an intimate thing, and Bucky isn't sure if he wants to tread on that. Wanda seems all right with it though. She's touching him and pressed up against him but then she shifts and he thinks that she is possibly uncomfortable. It makes sense; she has just told him a very heavy thing.

"I think I can trust a hairdresser with reviews like that," Bucky says softly. "But only if she feels comfortable sharing that kind of intimacy with her client. Otherwise, I'll tough it up and go to someone else so you don't kick me out of the house. Wouldn't want to spend the winter on the porch."

"I would be very sad that winter."

Who would get the items from the top shelf for her for three months? It'd be an absolute shame if he had to waste away outside while she had to find a little step to get into all of those pesky high corners.

She rubs her hand against his side. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to. It's…" Whenever Wanda speaks of home, she knows she always fidgets, and now is no exception to that. She's had to mould herself into the American—and Avenger—way of life so quickly so she would have a place. There was no room for her life before until now. "It's comforting to do something I used to do back home."

"All I want is for you to be comfortable," Bucky says, giving her the softest smile he can manage. It's true - not a platitude - and he keeps touching her because he just can't stop touching her. Touching Wanda is addictive and he's pretty sure he could do it for the rest of his life and it still wouldn't be enough.

"Do you want to get some sleep, maybe? I don't know if you're wired or not but I thought maybe we could share tonight." They haven't been since he didn't admit his feelings until today but he doesn't want to get out of her bed and go across the house to his bedroom when it's just going to be cold and lonely and Wanda-less.

"That sounds nice."

While Wanda's certain she'll be awake and a little wired for an hour or so, she doesn't particularly want that to be the reason why Bucky decides to wander back to his room and leave her alone in hers. Selfishly, she'd like for him to stay—it'd mean that she has no reason to be alone with her thoughts and entertain them further. His being here means she remains present.

She scrunches up her face as she pushes against his side and peers up at him in mock worry. "You don't snore, do you?"

Of course, Wanda knows the answer to that. But sometimes it's nice to act like she doesn't know everything—or most things.

Bucky laughs a little and shakes his head. Of course, he can't hear himself while he's asleep but he's never had a complaint, either, so he's reasonably sure he doesn't snore. If he's a liar, he guesses he's a liar but it's unintentional at best.

"Nah, I don't think I snore. Never had anyone say I do, anyway, and Steve's slept in the same room with me enough times to let me know. He's polite but he's not too polite to tell me I'm making a racket."

"And if he is too polite, I am not." She smiles up at him a little smugly. Of course, Wanda will fib and inform him that he does snore like a freight train even if he was as silent as the night. She likes her stories, even the ones that aren't true—and she has a good feeling Bucky doesn't mind them, either.

"I kick in my sleep." She doesn't unless she has a nightmare, but Wanda's intent to keep things light and her efforts to tease exasperating. "Very hard. Are you sure you want to stay?"

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