Billy’s magic was colored the brilliant, blinding blue-white of lightning. It was magic, in a way, in that there was something inside of Billy that, when spoken into being, became. And it wasn’t magic, in another way, in Billy’s hands it was all potential. What couldn’t never be, happened, what was, ceased. There were no rules of magic, because the Demiurge had written them and could unwrite them with willpower alone.
Or, he could just use them to teleport into the Sanctum to hang out with his soul-mom, whatever.
Billy knew about the Sanctum, of course, he’d been multiple times now here in Vallo, but he was also familiar with it where they were from. In New York, the townhome was located in Greenwich Village, illusioned to look like a decrepit building with a green awning emblazoned with a white siren and a ‘Coming Soon’ on the front. This version looked roughly the same, from what Billy remembered, the circular window at the top level with bars that crossed the glass and just happened to look like a certain Eye, brick, stones, and iron all fitting together with a very distinct undercurrent of magic.
Yeah, it was pretty cool.
“Hi, Momda,” Billy said as he came into the kitchen (back off fridge demon, he would smite you). He kissed Wanda’s cheek and handed her a bouquet of what the gnome at the flower shop called ipheion, delicate star-shaped flowers in a pale blue. Billy didn’t know anything about flowers, but they looked sweet and friendly. If a flower could look friendly, anyway. “Thanks for having me over.”
Kitchen chores were oddly therapeutic to Wanda. It reminded her of simpler times - from helping her mother be creative in the kitchen with odd ingredients (whatever they could afford) to being to making sure Pietro was fed (also with whatever they could afford), since out of the two of them she was the one with the ability to properly boil water. There was something about being her hands busy in a way that wasn’t twisting her fingers to summon actual chaos that put her into a zen place, for the most part.
When a recipe wasn’t giving her trouble anyway.
There was flour all over the counters. Butter, milk, brandy, flour - salt and sugar. Usually she did pretty well when it came to baking but she wasn’t perfect by any means. Magic would have made it all flawless, though that was always part of the challenge - don’t use it. Food was already warmed up in the oven and what she’d been working on at the moment was dessert and she was, um, a little behind on that to the point that she really was about to rely on some hocus-pocus to speed things up.
Hence, when Billy showed up and pressed a kiss on Wanda’s somewhat flour-covered cheek, she looked a bit frazzled. “Hi,” she smiled and took the flowers to smell them because how sweet. She also might die a bit every time the twins referred to her as their mother in any way. Don’t expect her to get over it anytime soon. “Sorry it’s a mess in here - I am attempting to make some strawberry sufganiyot?”
Her first time trying some had been at their apartment while Hanukkah was being celebrated. They were divine, and she wanted to try her hand at making it as a surprise so she could be more confident in her ability with it the next time they celebrated (and there’d be one, she didn’t want to think about there not being a next time). Her shoulders shrugged, sheepishly. “The dough is giving me some issues.”
“Uh,” Billy said, the bastion of wit he was. Truth be told, he hadn’t truly taken in the surroundings, really only concerned with greeting Wanda. But now that he did he looked around, mouth opening and closing as he struggled with what to say. It was ridiculously sweet she was even attempting the doughnuts, considering only Erik and Billy were Jewish, which was another interesting coincidence in their multiverse spanning family tree. Erik had come over one of the nights of Hanukkah and told Billy some of his family stories. They were good stories, but colored with sadness because of the loss and grief. And even though Erik wasn’t the Erik that the twins knew from home, he was family and Billy felt that loss and grief for him.
Billy looped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders as if to re-survey the scene with her. “It’s really nice that you’re trying. Okay, we can do this! You’re a fantastic baker and I am great at–offering British Bake Off like compliments, or something, I don’t know. In like, five minutes you’re going to have these done and they’ll be amazing! Unless that’s too much pressure, in which case, scrap them, you have an entire year to try to perfect it, who cares?” Trust Billy to understand performance anxiety. Even when it was baking.
Wiping the powder of flour on her forehead with the back of her wrist, Wanda had to laugh. Trust Billy to provide her with an endless amount of encouragement, too. “I could magic my way into success,” she mused, surveying the culinary chaos she had concocted. The second attempt was being handled with more confidence now but time was of the essence - there was still shaping, frying, filling, all of which she had wanted to do by hand. “That’s the only way I’ll get them done in five minutes in that case.”
It wouldn’t be the most terrible thing. Her pride might be wounded but for the sake of completing things - it was tempting. She gave Billy a pat before conjuring herself a vase of water for the flowers he’d gifted her. They’d be set down on the cleanest corner of the counter. “Thank you for these - they’re beautiful. Are you hungry? I do have dinner ready. It is basic - lasagna, and rolls.”
Carbs and heavy cheese that would probably have them wanting to sleep an hour after eating. Isn’t that what moms did sometimes? Put their kids into a food coma?
“I mean,” Billy shrugged. “I think this is where I repeat the wisdom of about fifty thousand people who tell me ‘just because you can, doesn’t mean you should’. Which, in principle probably refers more to me using magic to make the doughnuts do a choreographed tap dance routine for you. Why I would do that, who knows, but I’m of the opinion that as long as you’re not doing that, who cares?” To be of help, and because Billy always wanted to show off in front of Wanda like some sort of nerd (shut up Tommy) he muttered under his breath and with another flash of white-blue potential, immediately had all of the dirty dishes clean and set back in the cabinets.
“I’m starving, so that sounds great. I’ll send some off to Tommy when we’re done, because he’ll bombard me with texts otherwise.” Although Billy knew saying so was unnecessary as Wanda was just as likely to do that very thing on her own, and that knowledge bloomed something warm in his chest. For as much as he wanted Wanda’s acceptance and love (oh boy was it a lot) it somehow meant more to him that Tommy had that. Stupid Tommy.
Billy hopped up on a counter, after checking to make sure it was relatively flour-free. “How are you? What’s new?” Not that he didn’t talk to Wanda a lot, but it was still nice to check in.
It felt as if Billy was vaguely quoting Jurassic Park at her for a moment there (which she recently watched, having crossed that off the list pop culture things to consume from the comforts of the couch) but she’d take the hint and put a pin in that project for now. It was an aggressive endeavor anyway - next time she’d have to allot more time to work out the kinks of the recipe and process.
But Wanda was determined to master it sometime soon. She had time between the random bouts of events that tended to turn her life upside down one way or another.
“Would you believe me if I said I made two pans - one for here, and one for you to take with you?” she smirked, pulling on those oven mitts to pull the one very warm pan out of the oven. Lasagna was easy; it wasn’t as if it was terribly time consuming and making it in batches was convenient. “I have it wrapped up and ready to go in the fridge. That way you two have leftovers.”
The rolls came out too. They weren’t made from scratch though, sorry. It was Pillsbury, and they were fluffy and oh so buttery. “I’ve been good though - hired someone new at the tea shop,” Wanda went on, setting everything down on (clean, thank you Billy) counters and pulling plates out. “She looks absolutely terrifying but is very sweet. Stephen and I needed someone who got along with people to work here.”
“Bold of you to assume there will actually be leftovers for me,” Billy said, wryly. Not that he cared much, of course, and the much was because he was certain the lasagna would be good so when Tommy inevitably downed all of it and then burped for five minutes straight in Billy’s face, he would roll his eyes.
Billy slid off the counter and grabbed silverware because the Drs. Kaplan would have been disappointed if he let Wanda do all of the work. “Oh? One of the ‘looks like she could kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll types’? That’s one of my favorite tropes.” Billy was more of a ‘looks like a scrawny nerd, is actually a scrawny nerd’ himself.
“Do you like the tea shop?” he asked. “I mean, I assume you do because you wouldn’t do it if you didn’t, but, is that something you wanted back where you’re from?” From what he’d heard, it hadn’t seemed as though Wanda had much of a chance to explore anything else. That was how it had been for their Wanda too, seen either as a weapon or something to be feared. If the tea shop made Wanda happy, then Billy would have advocated for opening twenty of them. …Okay, maybe not, because that seemed like an excessive amount of tea shops for Vallo, but whatever.
Looks like a - what? A cinnamon roll? It took Wanda a second to get what he was saying and then a lightbulb came to light over her head because, yes, she recalled and understood this reference (now she knew how Steve felt like, sometimes). Scorpia was definitely that. Could destroy someone if she wanted to but genuinely did not want to.
“Definitely not something I wanted back home,” she chuckled and began to plate their dinner - she’d give him some extra in portion-size to make sure he was properly fed, thank you. “I like it though. I don’t care about dealing with people, but - the routine of it? How boring it can feel sometimes? It’s a normalcy I know I won’t have elsewhere.”
At this point she didn’t expect anything good for herself in the world she came from - and she’d swear this was a realistic approach to her life there, not cynicism. The Darkhold was in her possession. Vision was dead, and a synthetic android that had his likeness (and his memories) was somewhere out there. Wanda was wanted by the government for what she’d done at Westeview and they’d never been a fan of her before that, either.
It was what it was. And whatever happened was going to be a problem for Future Wanda.
There was a little round table at the other end of the kitchen. Not the full-fledged dining table they had conjured for giant family reunion purposes, and this one was used for quick meals and smaller gatherings. It’s where she set their plates down. “I had a few odd jobs when it was just Pietro and I. Washing dishes at a restaurant, for example. I was told I was pretty enough to wait tables but my personality was lacking. Pre-HYDRA days, of course, so the person who told me that lived.”
Assuming they survived what happened in Sokovia, anyway.
Billy swooped in with the silverware assist, placing knives and forks on their appropriate sides (knife went on the right, fork on the left, easy to remember based on the number of letters, thank you mnemonic devices). “God, why are people?” he asked, with an eyeroll of epic proportions. “I apologize on behalf of humanity that someone thought either of those things were appropriate to tell you.” Billy wasn’t totally surprised, after all, some people thought they could say whatever they wanted to someone without repercussions (‘you should smile more’ came to mind and although no one ever told him that, even just the thought of it had his teeth hurting from clenching them so hard) but it still sucked.
“I will very easily turn someone into a garden gnome if it comes up here,” Billy offered, casually. Creative threats were his forte, again that whole ‘just because you can doesn’t mean you should’ thing that was ever so important. He sat down and flashed a grin at Wanda. “Change of topic, this looks amazing, thanks for taking the time to do it.”
The lasagna tasted amazing too, all homey and warm. Admittedly, pasta, tomato sauce, and a ton of cheese was a difficult combination not to love, but Billy thought this one was especially good. “I only had a few jobs too. I did chores and watched my brothers for my parents, and I was like a counselor at summer camp a few times. I would help do inventory for a comic book shop and get paid in comics.” Billy shrugged. “But when we started the Young Avengers there wasn’t much time for anything else. I had time for that and school, because if my grades fell my parents would have known something was up.”
Wanda let out this funny little chortle - made her sound like a piglet, at the whole god why are people. It was what it was back then, and she and Pietro had to juggle a few odd jobs for the sake of survival before volunteering their bodies to HYDRA. Though it occurred to her that most of these stories sounded grim to just about everyone while they were very normal to her.
At least Tommy and Billy had a more normal childhood. Well - Billy was the closest to it. Tommy had filled her in on his a while ago and it hadn’t stopped gnawing at her.
“From my experience being an Avenger was a full-time job that didn’t pay well,” she commented, smearing some marinara and cheese on a buttered roll. This was going to be a heavy dinner. No regrets. There was some ice cream in the fridge too at least, if they felt like attempting dessert. “Balancing that and school and - being your age, it sounds too much. And yet you are still so…” Wanda paused after taking a small bite before continuing. Finding the word for it was more difficult than she thought. “Optimistic, I suppose?”
Billy’s nose wrinkled, not near as charmingly as Wanda’s sometimes did. “I don’t think anyone back home would call me an optimist,” he confessed. Not all that long ago Billy had spent too much time looking out the window while the world passed him by because he felt so much guilt over Cassie and Jonas’s deaths. Not all that long ago he had been in a spaceship wondering how he had made everything go so very wrong.
But in spite of it all, Billy retained that desire to do good in the world, he believed that there was good, there was evil, and those who had the ability to make the world a little better had the responsibility to do so. Maybe it was that Billy was the Demiurge, and he felt innately connected to everything, time, space, reality, life, the rules of magic, magic itself, Billy had separated himself from his universe and looked down at all possible worlds. Or maybe it was that Billy Kaplan, who had always felt differently and knew there were people who would never accept those differences, wanted to change things for others so that one day, they’d be celebrated instead of shoved into a gym locker for hours.
“I think I,” he speared a noodle but simply swirled it around the plate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’ve seen a lot. Good and bad. And to me it’s like–I could complain about all of the bad, or I could do something. If the world could be a little better because of me, then I have to help. Plus, I really like my costume, don’t listen to Tommy, it's very cool.” That part was said with a crooked smirk, Billy could never resist a quip.
Maybe optimistic wasn’t the best word, no. But that desire to be good - that was something important, and something people could easily lose when life proved to be merciless. Wanda had lost sight of it for a while herself. Several times, in fact. “The Scarlet Witch approves of your costume,” she smirked back, toying with the noodles on her plate. “And she’s also very proud of you. I am, and if I’m… anything like myself,” there was a pause for a short laugh because the multiverse was real and what was her life, truly, “I am too there, where you’re from.”
It brought her to the next topic.
“Now that you’ve been away from home for awhile though - how are you doing?” Wanda asked tentatively. Tommy seemed to be doing well with the freelance delivery service, and Toph. She was happy for them. “I know there are people you miss. And being away from someone you’re technically with is hard.”
“I’m fine, not too bad,” Billy replied, in response to the initial question. “I think the pixie at the coffee shop finally knows my order so, you know, doing great.” But then he realized what Wanda was actually hinting around. Teddy. The Boy Scout superhero mega nerd who looked like every fairytale prince come to life. Teddy, who literally walked senior citizens across the street and was so genuinely pleased to do it, who threw baseballs around with Billy’s brothers and father and laughed at their jokes, and bantered with Tommy. Teddy, with the moral compass that forever pointed north, who supported Billy through all of his struggles and defended him against others, but wasn’t afraid to tell Billy when he needed to get out of his head. Billy flew straight into a tree the first time they locked eyes and Teddy smiled.
“Yeah, um.” Billy swallowed against the tightness in his throat that tended to show its ugly head whenever thoughts of missing Teddy came about.
“It never feels like it gets easier,” he finally confessed, and his next words tumbled out in a rush, faster and faster as he continued speaking. “I can get around a lot of things, the random monsters every month, people from my favorite media showing up, I’m even trying to get over literally no one knowing us. But I can’t–I can’t get over this. It’s like, at any moment Teddy could show up and he could know me, or he could be fifty years older, or he could be some alternate version where he’s the king of space married to super beefy stud named Jaxon spelled with an x who also speaks five fictional languages and know the difference between sports balls are!” He groaned, his head in his hands because otherwise he would have been likely to thud it on the table and imprint lasagna on himself. “Sorry. There’s no solution.”
Which was probably the hardest part to reconcile.
Right, the uncertainty. Wanda was familiar with it too. Vallo was a roulette of chaos - those wanted and unwanted had equal chances of passing through here. Right now it also worked almost like a fresh start, where she was able to move on and selfishly have this semblance of a family she craved so bad. There wasn’t much for her to go back home to; Vision was gone, so were Billy and Tommy. But she had pieces of them here, and it hurt less to live with.
Billy had someone he was in love with back home, though. His parents too, his other siblings. He had good things to go back to.
“Is Jaxon an actual - nevermind,” Wanda relented. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You are right. There is no solution. No certainty. There are no right or wrong routes to take here. It’s just… difficult. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for you. Time doesn’t always make things easy. Time can make it worse.”
Time could chip away at hope.
“Really peppy dinner conversation,” Billy forced a laugh. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, and took a breath to steady himself. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m unhappy–I’m not.” That was the truth too, not a platitude he was giving to Wanda so that she didn’t worry that this alternate version of her son was some spaz–oh God, what if she thought that??
He shoved a forkful of lasagna in his mouth, trying to quell that rising anxiety. Doing great, Kaplan, doing great.
“There’s really nothing to do,” he agreed. “But, things like this are good. Working at the comic shop, playing D&D, like, all the normal things I do, that’s good. And then sometimes I see something and I get sad and have to rely on those learned coping skills or whatever my therapist says so I don’t turn into a useless lump of nerd.” Not that Tommy would ever let that happen. They had a standing agreement, Tommy got to do whatever he thought was needed if it was needed.
“And I’m not unhappy,” Billy repeated. “I’m happy, actually. I love what we have, Tommy’s here, maybe if those weren’t the case it would be worse, but I feel pretty lucky overall. Just don’t tell Tommy I said that out loud.” Of course.
“Secret’s safe with me,” she chuckled, taking a moment to process that rambling. Wanda didn’t think Billy was a spaz, no - but he had some anxious ticks that she picked up a lot, and talking a lot at the speed of Tommy’s movement was a good indicator. “But it’s… okay if you are not completely happy with the circumstances? They’re odd, and I love what we have too.”
It was terrifyingly selfish for Wanda to admit that she’d change very little of what they had. This was the happiest she’s been; no need to conjure up a reality that bended to her every will and whim. “I guess I just want you to know that…” Wanda pushed some noodles around her plate more, watching the cheese and marinara melt together before bringing her focus back to Billy. “If you are feeling like a ‘useless lump of nerd’ - which you are not - that I am here. If you ever feel like you’re missing Teddy or your family too much, or just home. I will buy out an entire store of ice cream for you if I have to.”
Billy couldn’t help the smile fighting its way across his face. He reached across the table and took Wanda’s hand. “That’s a pretty good mom talk, you know. Either you’ve been giving them to Tommy without me noticing, or you’ve got it naturally.” He thought it was probably the latter. Wanda, from the beginning, had embraced being a mom, even when it meant being a mom to teenagers who were her sons, but were also different from what she remembered.
“I’m really happy you’re happy,” he said, patting Wanda’s hand before releasing it to go back to the food. Now Billy was a little hungrier, not all up in his feels. “You deserve it.”
Mom Talk. Was that really Mom Talk? Wanda’s other hand flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Was that what this was? I think it went better than my awkward attempt make sure Tommy practices safe sex,” she grinned behind her fingers. “But thank you. I am happy. You and your brother being here play a big part in that. And I will do anything to make sure you’re happy, too.”
Their time here together was valuable. Anything could change - at any given point in time. Wanda had parted ways with them once, and she loathed to think of it happening a second time. But dwelling on it to the point of obsession was pointless when she could focus on making memories with them here, now.
“And for dessert I might actually find us enough ice cream to put a convenience store to shame,” she quipped, pointing her fork in his direction. “I do love you that much.”