WinterWitch: Control

Chapter 8

James POV

Wanda Maximoff, one of the newest known additions to the Avengers, has not been seen since the news of her torture in the prison known as the 'Raft'. Will we ever hear her side of the story or will it remain a myste-

The television in the kitchen switched off and I silently thanked Clint for doing so. Wanda didn't need to hear what Everhart was saying. She seemed like an utter bitch from what I had seen. "Thank you," I heard her mumble from her spot beside the oven, waiting for the pizza that we were going to share to cook. Wanda had the option of what we were going to eat, promising that next time we would get my choice. I think 'spinach and ricotta pasta' was on one of my lists.

Steve picked up a rice pack from the fridge and left, not without sparing a glance at me. I quietly growled, part of me hoping he would notice my frustration with his constant need to keep tabs on me. I was glad that he was leaving us in the kitchen to make our food though.

"Pizza for lunch? Not exactly a healthy choice Maximoff," Clint teased, poking his tongue out at the young woman. She glared back at him.

"Like you can talk, you eat a shit tonne of food." I was getting used to the slightly foul mouth that Wanda had. She wasn't a big swearer, definitely not as bad as Stark, but it didn't bother me. Part of me almost liked her more for it.

"I'm eating the pain away," he said, dramatically. The toaster pinged and Clint grabbed the slices that came out of it, spreading it with Nutella. I definitely knew it was Nutella, the spread being too famous for me to miss in my years of hiding.

"Unbelievable..." she muttered, shaking her head as she watched the archer leave. He winked at her as he took a bite of his toast and walked out of the room. Clint was a nice person - dedicated and strong. He stood for what he believed in. I'm not sure whether I could be like him as I didn't have a strong belief. My belief in God was long gone now and there was nothing tethering me to the Avengers apart from the need to help people. Perhaps I could use that to push myself.

"Are you sure you are okay with pizza?" Wanda asked as she pushed herself up onto the countertop. It was only then that I really noticed how small she was. She had strong muscles, but the move almost looked effortless. There wasn't much to actually push up onto the countertop.

"Pizza is fine," I reassured her for the twelfth time. The frown on her face slowly disappeared as she nodded, looking back to observe the pizza. I took a moment to really look at her. She always had a natural appearance, never wearing a lot of makeup, if any at all. She was genuinely beautiful,

"Do you fancy sparring in a bit?" I asked, feeling my body itching to do something. I never felt like I could relax, always needing to keep myself busy and do something. I saw her looked at me with slight disappointment.

"I have to meet Natasha and talk to her about what I'm going to say to the press. She said it would take a while." I nodded, feeling slightly solemn about missing time with her. I enjoyed sparring with her. She was an easy target, not strong enough to fight a proper battle with assistance from her powers, but I liked teaching her new skills and helping her. It felt good to help someone after so long doing nothing.

"Perhaps later after our session?" she suggested with a glint of hope in her voice. I looked up at her and smiled softly. She was very kind to me, always. She hadn't been the first to show me kindness since I had been here, but I felt like hers mattered the most. She always seemed like she meant it, not being patronising or overly sympathetic. I liked that about her - she was honest.

She checked on the pizza, moving her head away to avoid the steam that rose from the oven. She looked over her shoulder at me, her hair flicking round to one side of her neck as she did. "I think it's done," she said, grinning as she grabbed a large plate and slid it out of the oven.