Chapter 36

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When I start slowly coming to the next morning, I marvel at how well rested I feel. Every single part of my being feels fuzzy, it's that feeling I haven't had in so long -restfulness. I have no idea when the last time I slept through an entire night without a single dream. Just pure, sweet, nothing. My thoughts are slow like I'm still half asleep. I feel so warm and relaxed. I groan slightly, stretching out my legs. A soft complaining sound reaches my ear and with a jolt, I'm taken back to where I am, and most importantly, with whom I am. It suddenly takes so much effort to not react to the weight I am now noticing around my stomach and chest. My heart races as I slowly peel open my eyes.

The bedroom is still dark, bathed in that soft light before the sun properly rises to illuminate the world. It's still dark enough to drown out any colors, rending the world in different shades of gray, except for one vibrant color right next to my face. Draped over my chest is a head covered by a tousled mane of red hair so unmistakably Wanda's it brings a small smile on my face. She's nestled against me with her arm over my stomach as she's still fast asleep, probably completely unaware of her position. I try to even out my breathing as to not tip her off to me being awake. There's an odd want to stay like this forever and never move again. The realization shocks me since I've never been the kind of person who enjoys being all touchy-feely and clingy, and usually, I get very uncomfortable when another person is this close to me. Now though, I don't recognize any of the usual feelings this proximity would normally bring. There is no need to push away or to retreat, none of the usual stuffiness and anxiousness that comes with having my personal space invaded. Instead, I just find myself wanting to stay as still as possible so that I won't disturb Wanda, finding it oddly calming to observe all the subtle shades of red and orange of her hair. Somehow, by the way she's draped over me, I suspect she might need this closeness even more than me. Especially after her confessions to me last night. I figure it isn't every day that she feels comfortable enough to ask for someone to be there for her, and I feel a warmth spread in my chest at the thought of me being the person she chose.

"Hmm, you know you can actually breathe. Won't wake me up." A raspy voice sounds from underneath all that hair and I chuckle softly, only now realizing that in my efforts to not wake her, I've actually stopped breathing.

"I'm sorry -I didn't want to disturb you. You seemed like you needed the rest." I answer her and she hums softly in reply, making no move to get off me.

I am only now becoming aware of my hand on her back. It just lies there, casually, but the realization makes me feel like it's anything but casual. My hand is suddenly all I can concentrate on, the feeling of her warmth radiating through her shirt is almost too much to bear. I have no idea what to do with my hand all of a sudden. If I move it, she might think I am uncomfortable, which I am not. But I don't want to make her uncomfortable by not moving it. It's too much. It's way too intimate. I could pretend to have to move a strand of hair off of my face. But what if that makes her move away? I don't want that. But it feels like it weighs a ton, resting there like it's the only natural place for it to be. Shit. What does one do with one's hand in a situation like this? Oh my god. If I just-

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep here." Wanda breaks the silence and moves slightly, trying to get more comfortable and I mentally kick myself. Mind reading, right. I have to stop being so not subtle around her. What's wrong with me? I am never this self-conscious normally.

"Sorry. Are you comfortable?" I ask her when she shuffles again, her legs accidentally kicking mine.

"Mhmm." She answers and I decide to feel brave enough to absentmindedly stroke her back in small, light touches. "Hmm." She says again and I take that as her being okay with the touch.

I close my eyes, my body still feeling heavy despite being intensely awake at the same time, the constant feeling of Wanda pressing up against me enough to keep me overthinking to the tenth degree. Everything she told me last night is suddenly playing over and over again in my head. I wonder if she regrets anything she told me -if she was just feeling too vulnerable due to her exhaustion from spending so much energy, thus lowering her usual guards. I hope she doesn't regret anything. I keep picturing how sad she sounded when she asked me to hold her, and how detached she was when talking about her past, and I have a feeling that despite her being so open with me, that she's barely even grazed the surface of her feelings. I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to learn more about her, or if yesterday was just a rare once-in-a-lifetime situation. The thought makes me sad. I realize I actually want to learn more about her, and not because I am intrigued by her professionally, wanting to connect all the dots in her case file, but because I genuinely want to learn all I can about her. I don't know where all of these early morning realizations are coming from, but they're making me slightly uneasy. The more time I spend basking in my luck in having learned so much about Wanda, the more I suspect she was just in need of someone, anyone, yesterday, and that it won't happen again.

Fire and Smoke - Wanda Maximoff x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now