|Wanda Maximoff (daddysredwitch) wrote in oh_marvelous,|
@ 2012-09-18 12:01:00
|Entry tags:||z: om1: !complete, z: om1: character: wanda maximoff, z: om1: location: new york, z: om1: past character: clint barton|
There's a weight that's pressing down.
Characters: Wanda, Clint
Setting: Wanda and Clint's apartment
Content: Nothing questionable that I know of at this point
Summary: Hungover Wanda hangs out with Clint
Eleven-oh-eight was what the clock face read when Wanda rolled over and groggily blinked against the sunlight streaming through cracks in the blinds. She hadn't meant to sleep so late and when she slowly sat up she felt headachey and cotton mouthed. Actually, she was a little hungover and in a lot of pain. The bruises over her body and her stiff limbs protested when she finally got up the will to rise. She stumbled into the bathroom to have a hot shower and see if she could feel half alive again.
Last night she'd met up with Colleen and Misty for dinner and then, for dessert, the three of them had gone to bust up a big drug deal going down in a warehouse between a few of the Kingpin's men and some of the Wrecking Crew. That had been fun. Those girls were great to spend time with and so very skilled at getting into trouble. Good, dangerous trouble. After winning the fight the trio retreated to a bar for a few (actually, several) celebratory drinks that, by two in the morning, had Wanda so far gone she'd had to take a cab back to her place in the Flatiron district because a teleport probably would've put her half way across the country or in the middle of the ocean. All in all, a very good night, in spite of the welts she ended up with in the fight. As it turned out, magic only went so far and a little self defense would've gone a long way in this situation. These weren't the kind of fights she was used to and the girls hadn't let her hear the end of it, afterwards. Physical training was one of those things Wanda always meant to do but never seemed to find the time for. She'd always had such a false sense of security because of her powers. Her regrets about that were strong now as she showered; the beat of the water felt like a hammer against her bruised skin.
When her shower was finished she headed back to her room and, passing through the hallway, she heard the sound of the t.v. from the living room. Clint was home, then. Wanda smiled to herself a little ruefully; she didn't know how or when she'd become so accustomed to Clint being here. There was no denying it, though, this was his home now, too, as much as it was hers. His stuff strewn everywhere and the constant supply of beer in the fridge were testament to that.
Truth to be told, she'd never expected for she and Clint's arrangement to have any permanence. They lived together, spent time together, were Avengers together and even still slept together fairly regularly. As far as Wanda knew this all constituted a relationship, but they'd never talked about it or defined it. Sometimes the ambiguity bothered her; in the prison whatever this was had seemed transient but now that there was actually a future to survive, it was on her mind a lot more often. Mostly, though, she was just grateful that Clint had stuck around. With Pietro moved out she was glad for the company (though a year before she might not have believed it if anyone told her she'd be Clint Barton's willing roommate and occasional lover). Surprising sometimes, the way things turned out.
After gingerly dressing herself in a teeshirt and jeans, Wanda went into the living room with a towel draped over her wet hair and fell into an armchair- wincing immediately- before she greeted Clint, who was stretched out on the couch, with a terse, "Morning." It was way too bright in here and the t.v. was too loud. A glass of water and some aspirin, maybe coffee, would've done wonders for her at the moment but she didn't feel much like moving so she turned her face to the leather of the chair with a groan. Wanda took everything back- those women were terrible influences, just terrible. She would never be talked into tequila shots ever again.