rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

w. maximoff + first time sharing a bed

captain rogers has assigned you to the same dingy little hotel room as wanda, and he doesn't know how much he's fucked you over.

you scrunch your eyes shut for a moment, trying not to think about the loose flowing fabric of her pajama shorts as she saunters out of the bathroom, all while you try to hijack the enemies' comms for the fifth time today.

"are you not tired?" she asks, lowering onto the bed and creaking it slightly.

the bed. singular.

you knew tony stark didn't pay the avengers much, but jesus christ. an eight-person mission is not a four-bed situation.

you shrug, briefly turning to face her. "i'll sleep later. you take the bed."

instant regret. wanda looks so soft and inviting there, pale legs crossed as she watches you curiously. her reddish hair stands out against her deep blue shirt.

she clicks her tongue as you rotate back to your laptop. "doesn't seem fair."

you practically slam your fingers into your keyboard. "you're the brawn, i'm just the brains."

"brains need rest as well." distantly, you hear the little ping of the hotel TV turning on. "one of my favorite sitcoms is on. want to watch it with me?"

"'m busy," you say offhandedly.

for almost an entire episode, the tinny sound of studio laughter fills the room, but wanda's sporadic giggling is what pulls you—helplessly—away from your work.

then, a flash of red. your laptop shuts with a firm tap. when you spin around to glare at her, she's smirking. "come to bed. we have a big day tomorrow."