Chapter Text
You could feel the glare of the Sokovian witch through the observation glass, sweat beading along your upper lip as your forceps prod at the hole in the assassin's stomach, waiting for the clink of once sterilized, now bloodied steel against the bullet that now threatened one of the greatest assets to The Avengers.
“Vitals?” You call out, your focus once again on the injury once they're confirmed to be stable. You wipe at the blood the begins to pool on her stomach, not minding the smear as you work your instrument deeper until you feel the foreign object, the quirk of your lips hidden by your mask. As you gently pull it out you’re reminded of the children’s game, where a shaky hand would lead to a loud buzzer and a flash of a red nose installed on a cardboard patient. You nearly laugh at the thought of how simple it was; how simple you wish that your job was.
You sigh as the bullet clicks on the metal tray beside you, nodding at the nurse to begin cleaning the woman’s body before she would be taken to Doctor Cho for further treatment. As they take over, you step outside of the operation room, immediately removing your scrubs and washing your hands diligently.
“Will she be okay?” You jump, cursing as some water splashes over the sink before turning it off, drying your arms as you look over.
“Only medical personnel is supposed to be in here, Miss Maximoff.” Her eyes glow for a moment before she quickly shakes her head, seeming to scold herself at her reaction. You purse your lips, sighing as you lean against the counter. “But she’ll be fine. Once Doctor Cho sees her, it’ll be like she was never shot in the first place.” Wanda nods, though the aggravation she first showed turned to worry. You step around her, opening the door and waiting for her to follow. As she does she stumbles, your reflexes acting quickly as you catch her.
“Sorry,” she mutters as she stands back up, though you don’t let her go as you watch her sway slightly. Your brows furrow as she ducks her head.
“Wanda, when’s the last time you ate?” She remains silent, which is as much of an answer as you need. You gently pull on her arm, and she looks up at you with trepidation. You repeat the action, your movements soft though your face stern, and after a moment she reluctantly follows you. You pull her to the medical staffs’ lounge, pulling out your lunch from the fridge as well as trail mix from the congressional snacks before walking back, handing her half of her sandwich.
“What is this?” You look up mid-bite, trying not to think too much about how cute her confused look and head-tilt are. “This… white spreading?”
“It’s marshmallow fluff.” Her expression is perplexed as she looks at you, and you can’t help but grin. “It’s a fluffernutter sandwich. You know, peanut butter and marshmallow fluff.”
“Fluffer… nutter?” You nod, taking a bite with a hum. She looks down at it, biting her bottom lip as she contemplates trying it. “Go on, it won’t bite back.” She looks back up with distrust in her eyes before taking a small bite, chewing slowly. You slow your chewing as well, suddenly nervous to hear her response.
“It’s… odd…” You snort as she takes another bite, though this one larger.
“But it’s good?” She hesitates before giving a small nod, your smile lighting up your face. “See, no one can resist a fluffernutter.” A huff from Wanda made your smile widen before a silence took over, the two of you finishing your halves of the sandwich. You pass her the trail mix, ignoring how she shifts in her seat until she takes a deep breath.
“Two days.” Her hands pick at the flimsy plastic bag, not looking up at you. “We tried to abandon the mission as soon as Natasha was hurt, but they destroyed the quinjet. We had to hide until the second team could come, and the entire time I used my power to make sure she wouldn’t…” Her eyes glaze over as she looks at the wall behind you, and you didn’t push her to talk. Instead you stood, going back to the fridge and pulling out another paper bag, placing it in front of her. She looks between it and you, and you give a small smile.
“I always pack a second, in case I need to stay an extra shift.” As she opens her mouth to speak your pager goes off, and you check it to see that you were needed in the operating room again. “Shit, I need to get going. I’ll see you around?” Wanda nods, though you can’t help but worry at her blank face as she looks down at the table. You gently place a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to look at you.
“She’ll be fine, Wanda.” She nods again, this time her face relaxing slightly. You give her shoulder a squeeze before rushing off, shivering at the feeling of her eyes on you.
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At the end of your next shift you finish writing an operative report, triple checking your spelling and grammar as you know your exhausted mind tended to be lenient on the rules of the English language. You let out a heavy sigh as you save it to the system, leaning back in your chair and resting your eyes, enjoying the quiet until it’s broken by the sound of the door opening. You quickly spin around, relaxing when you see Wanda instead of a superior.
“Did you get some rest?” You ask, and she tilts her head at you.
“That’s the first question you ask?” She walks over quietly, tentatively sitting beside you and letting the chair swivel under her feet.
“The last few days have been stressful for you. I just want to make sure you’re not exhausting yourself.” She looks downs, shrugging as she plays with her fingers. You hum, glancing back at your computer and quickly shutting it down, the office going dark once the bright light of the screen went off. You turn back, waiting patiently for her to speak as she bites her bottom lip.
“Not really,” she whispers, and you nod, standing and holding out a hand. She stares at it, apprehension written all over her face, but just before you pull away she takes it, standing and holding onto you with a grip that almost makes you wince.
“Was there a reason you couldn’t sleep?” You ask after walking a few hallways in silence, and she instinctively steps closer to you as you pass by some of your colleagues, who you greet with a smile despite their confusion of you walking hand-in-hand with an Avenger.
“She wasn’t there,” she murmurs low enough for only you to hear, “she wasn’t in our room. In our bed.”
“She’s still recovering, Wanda. Skin is easier to regenerate than muscle and fat.” Despite your explanation you can see the beginnings of a panic attack, and you suck your lips in, looking around to see that the hallway is empty before turning down the opposite way of the elevator, towards the patients’ rooms.
“Where…” You feel her hesitate before she realizes what you were doing, and nearly drags you rather than the other way around. You two make your way to the classified section of the wing, and you quickly let yourselves in, watching as Wanda rushes to the room labeled Romanoff and swings open the door. You walk slowly, hearing their hushed whispers and not wanting to interrupt their reunion, rather pretending to find the plain wallpaper far more interesting than it is. You make your way to a chair several doors down, about to sit when Wanda pokes her head out the door. It’s obvious how much stress has been relieved when looking at her after only moments of being with the Black Widow, making your dread of meeting with your superiors tomorrow slightly more bearable.
“Is she coming in or not?” You both turn towards the source of the sound, Wanda giving a small smirk to the person you couldn’t see before turning back to you, tilting her head. You blink several times before clearing your throat, shaking your head.
“I’m not supposed to be visiting any patients in recovery, my assignments are exclusively to execute emergency surgeries.” A scoff comes from the room as Wanda looks up at you through her lashes, smiling innocently.
“But aren’t you off the clock?” You raise a brow as she tilts her head, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “And we’re not supposed to be down here at all, are we? What’s wrong with breaking the rules a little more?” You roll your eyes at that before making your way towards her, immediately forgetting about the consequences you could face when her face lights up. She turns back into the room, and once you get to the door you only peek in at first, unsure as to why your chest is fluttering nervously.
“You can come in,” an American accent calls, and you take a step through the threshold, both of the women giving you an amused look. “We aren’t going to hurt the person who helped save my life.” You nod, leaning on the doorway and eyes flicking down to where Wanda’s hand is covering Natasha’s.
“I feel like I’m interrupting a personal moment,” you say while toeing at the floor, looking away from them. You hear one of them click their tongue and a shift on the cot, ignoring the footsteps as long as possible until Wanda stands in front of you, arms crossed.
“You saved her life and introduced me to the fluffernutter. You’re welcome here.” Her arms uncross and she takes your hand, pulling you towards Natasha who gives an amused hum.
“We would’ve been fine with you being here before as well,” the red head says, and one of her brows goes up when yours furrow. “Oh Wanda, I think she might be a little dense.”
“There weren’t a lot of chances to talk to her, detka,” she says as she sneaks her arms around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Always so busy, but somehow always so cute despite such a tiring workload.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks at her words, and she giggles at your flustered state. Natasha smirks as well, resting back onto her half-reclined bed.
“When’s your next off day?” She says suddenly, and when you reply with tomorrow, she gives a wide smile. “Be back at the compound at noon, in something casual. As good as you make scrubs look, I’d much rather see you in something else.” You nod, lost for words as Wanda reluctantly pulls back, though one hand trails over your back as she goes to sit by Natasha again.
“I’ll leave you two to it then,” you say after clearing your throat, turning quickly on your heel and walking out, questioning what had just happened. Did you seriously just get asked on a date with Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff?
“Wanda?” You trip when you hear Natasha’s voice, slightly muffled now that you were down the hallway. “What the hell is a fluffernutter?” Your lips slowly curl to a smile as you make a mental note to pack three for tomorrow, the stares your coworkers giving you at your elated state not bothering you as you daydream about tomorrow.