FIC: equinox (MCU, Tony/Wanda, PG)
Aug. 2nd, 2016 12:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carlyinromeWritten for Anonymous for The Wish Fulfillment Ficathon.
Post-AoU, Pre-CACW.
Wanda sits on the balcony of the penthouse in Stark Tower in Manhattan, watching the night sky. The configuration of stars is different than in Sokovia, and Wanda wonders if, one day, she’ll possess enough power to be able to tilt the stars around the axis of the earth. She can see it in her mind, the red wisps of energy wrapping around each star, the constellations rearranging themselves in response to the motion of her hands. What would that feel like?
Wanda glances back through the penthouse’s glass walls. She expects to find Tony fiddling around at the bar—he had promised her a drink, something she’d never heard of that he had sold her on with the promise of ripe, raw cherries—but instead she finds him watching her. She turns to him, and for a moment doesn’t see her through the glint of New York’s lights reflected in the glass. Then his eyes find her face, and he smiles, and he comes out on the balcony.
Tony’s hands are empty, and Wanda says, “Where are my cherries?”
Tony doesn’t say anything. He comes and crouches beside where Wanda is sitting, his head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes scouring her face in that way he has, like he is seeing her inner workings—the electricity firing from neuron to neuron. Wanda can see his inner workings, as well, the energy that drives him. She sees his fear: that she’ll never love him without also hating him.
They are eye to eye. Wanda waits a moment for Tony to act, but when he doesn’t, she reaches out to him, cradling his face in her hands, her fingertips running through his hair.
“Have you ever seen a shooting star?” she asks.
She can tell Tony is confused by the question, but he doesn’t lie to her, so he says, “No.”
Wanda rests her hands on Tony’s shoulders, and looks up at the sky. “I thought I saw one earlier tonight,” she says. “A bright star, shooting across the sky.”
“Did you make a wish?” he asks.
“I did,” she said. Wanda looks at him, this time just looking. She looks at the shape of his jaw and the color of his eyes.
“It was you,” she said. “The Iron Man suit, flying home to me.”
Tony frowns. “So your wish didn’t come true?”
“It did,” she said. “Because here you are.”
Tony looks up at her, his eyes wide and clear and hopeful. He takes her in his arms, and kisses her, and Wanda looks once more at the stars and thinks—how wonderful, to have changed them.
Wanda glances back through the penthouse’s glass walls. She expects to find Tony fiddling around at the bar—he had promised her a drink, something she’d never heard of that he had sold her on with the promise of ripe, raw cherries—but instead she finds him watching her. She turns to him, and for a moment doesn’t see her through the glint of New York’s lights reflected in the glass. Then his eyes find her face, and he smiles, and he comes out on the balcony.
Tony’s hands are empty, and Wanda says, “Where are my cherries?”
Tony doesn’t say anything. He comes and crouches beside where Wanda is sitting, his head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes scouring her face in that way he has, like he is seeing her inner workings—the electricity firing from neuron to neuron. Wanda can see his inner workings, as well, the energy that drives him. She sees his fear: that she’ll never love him without also hating him.
They are eye to eye. Wanda waits a moment for Tony to act, but when he doesn’t, she reaches out to him, cradling his face in her hands, her fingertips running through his hair.
“Have you ever seen a shooting star?” she asks.
She can tell Tony is confused by the question, but he doesn’t lie to her, so he says, “No.”
Wanda rests her hands on Tony’s shoulders, and looks up at the sky. “I thought I saw one earlier tonight,” she says. “A bright star, shooting across the sky.”
“Did you make a wish?” he asks.
“I did,” she said. Wanda looks at him, this time just looking. She looks at the shape of his jaw and the color of his eyes.
“It was you,” she said. “The Iron Man suit, flying home to me.”
Tony frowns. “So your wish didn’t come true?”
“It did,” she said. “Because here you are.”
Tony looks up at her, his eyes wide and clear and hopeful. He takes her in his arms, and kisses her, and Wanda looks once more at the stars and thinks—how wonderful, to have changed them.
