InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Didn't call, didn't write."

ώάήȡά (scarlets) wrote in valloic,
@ 2024-07-04 09:54:00

Entry tags:

!: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: peter parker 2, ₴ inactive: wanda maximoff

Wanda & Peter

WHAT: Peter's back in Vallo and Wanda's got cookies ready
WHERE: Wanda's Cottage
WHEN: Julist 1st
WARNINGS: None really, just feelings
STATUS: Complete

“You’re tired."

Sorry I missed you. Be home for dinner if I don’t turn into a zombie first.
- Peter

That had been the note that Peter had left for Wanda on the kitchen table when he’d stopped in the cabin after arriving, still bleeding from the wound that zombie Wolverine had given him, and, if Wanda hadn’t checked the Network that afternoon and seen Peter wondering if Kamala had gone missing, it would have been her first indication that he was back. He’d been reluctant to leave Kamala once evening began to set in and dinnertime approached. They’d spent the afternoon together, including a brief trip to the DOA to make sure that Peter wasn’t about to turn into a zombie (they were pretty sure that he was not going to, which had been a huge relief), and Peter would have been happy to spend the evening and night with Kamala too, but he’d missed Wanda, too, and wanted to see her. He’d considered inviting Kamala to dinner, but, no, he wanted to see Wanda one-on-one, first. He swung from a nearby tree, did a backflip – he was so happy to be back in Vallo – and landed, lightly, in front of the front door. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous, not really, but he kind of was. And then he swung open the door. “Hey Wanda! Are you back?” He hoped she was back. Wanda was almost sure the note was a prank. Almost. She certainly stared at it for a long time. Re-read it several times. Picked it up so she could feel the note between her fingers, drinking in the sight of his rushed writing. Her eyes then fell shut and she allowed herself to feel what was out there, looking for strings of souls that were important to her, counting them one by one until— “There you are,” she breathed with a smile, the note becoming damp by a single tear. Wanda put it on her fridge, and spent time tidying up her cottage by hand versus magic. Peter’s room never vanished; the door always remained in the hallway, and passing it every day had become less of a sting. Now she looked upon it, and felt relief. Maybe even a little bit of hope, too. By the time Peter came back – and she waited, dutifully – she was on the sofa, a book in her hands. Wanda looked over and she was brought back to months and months ago, when Peter was still here and he hadn’t been taken and him coming through her door was just something that was part of home. Her throat felt a bit constricted, and she wasn’t used to feeling that sort of thing out of elation. “I have cookies in the oven,” was how she greeted Peter, the smell of sugar in the air. It had been a long, long time since the last time Peter got to smell freshly baking cookies, and the smell of it very nearly brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them back so they didn’t spill over. He had planned to say something clever or witty when he saw Wanda again, but he found that he actually couldn’t. The last six months had been hard, the last three of those had been even harder – if someone was looking, they could see it: he’d lost weight, especially in his cheeks, and there were dark circles under his eyes. So instead of saying anything at all, he just knelt next to the couch and hugged her. Wanda, admittedly, expected their reunion to have a lot more chatter. Peter had always talked a million miles per hour when he was in his feelings, but she had to remind herself once again what their world was like for him — it was loss. That was what she had assumed, anyway. The book was dropped and forgotten so she could embrace him back something fierce, and she did not intend for this to be a short affair. Peter looked like he could use someone to hold him, so she held. “Welcome home,” Wanda told him. “I missed you,” Peter said, hugging her just a little tighter. He held on for a few seconds longer before he let go and smiled at her. “It’s good to be home. Glad to see that my room’s still here.” “It was always going to be here as long as I was,” said Wanda, looking upon him with bloodshot eyes. Tears hadn’t spilled but if they had, they wouldn’t be from heartache. When she drank in the sight of him with his hollowed cheeks and tired face, the tremulous smile faded into a frown. “What happened to you, Peter?” Peter’s own lips curled into a smile at the question, though even he could tell it wasn’t an especially convincing smile. It felt strained, even to him. This was one of the reason’s he preferred to wear his mask. His voice, at least, was more convincing when he started: “Well, first, I ended up going back in time. Way back in time. To the time of the dinosaurs. And there, I met Pter Ptarker, also known as Spider-Rex, protector of herbivore dinosaurs and all around pretty cool pteranodon-turned-tyrannosaurus rex.” That wasn’t what Wanda had suspected, at all. It took her a few moments to process that, a small part of her tempted to ask if he was joking but – no, no he was not. Peter was serious. The first time her lips parted after his explanation to say something, nothing came out. She closed them and contemplated. She found success in her second attempt. “You say that was first,” Wanda began slowly. “There is a second half to this?” Peter shifted a little uncomfortably. “Well, then I met some other Spider-People – apparently there’s a whole society of them? That jump from universe to universe to make sure that the multi-verses don’t bleed into one another. And then I got stranded in a zombie universe. But it was fine. I went to the DOA already today and got tested to make sure I wasn’t going to go all grr-arg and try to eat people’s brains.” The oven’s timer went off. Not that Wanda needed to go address it – the appliance shut itself off, silenced the alarm, opened itself up, and the tray floated out. The magic woven into the kitchen would set it all on the cooling tray before plating them. It gave her the opportunity to focus only on Peter. “You’re tired,” said Wanda, and she was aware that it was a gross understatement. She had expected Peter to just go back to their own world, and that itself was one full of strife to begin with. She hadn’t expected him to go elsewhere. Wouldn’t even think that he would be experiencing all of that. “Do you want to sit on the couch? Or take a shower first?” “Is that a hint?” Peter asked, and then sniffed his pits. He made a face. “Oh god, I can’t believe I hung out with Kamala smelling like this. Someone should have warned me! I should probably shower before I cover the couch with all of this.” “You’re fine,” came her gentle assurance, smiling at him. “I thought that maybe a shower would help you decompress - and by the time you come out, the cookies will be cooled and ready to eat. Then you can tell me anything else you want to tell me, or we can simply… sit, and put something on.” Wanda didn’t want to put pressure on him. Peter had obviously endured a lot, and then there must also be the shock of coming back here. She wasn’t his mother, and she wasn’t his aunt, but she’d like to think she was some form of family - and Wanda took care of family. Peter smiled warmly at her, and then, on impulse, kissed her cheek like he might have if she really were his aunt. Then he got up and stretched, ready to take advantage of his first real, relaxing shower – one where he didn’t have to worry about being barged in on by rude zombies – in more than six months. “Thank you, Wanda. That sounds really nice.” He didn’t know which, yet, though he realized, suddenly, that he was exhausted and mostly just wanted to curl up to watch TV and maybe have his hair stroked, but it felt good to be home again.