Chapter Text
Wanda never really liked you, you were absolutely sure of it. In fact, you were infinitely more sure about this after you had handed in one too many pieces of scrappy work for her class that always come back with big fat red marks all over the pages.
You definitely didn't fare any better with her wife Natasha either. Even though you didn't know her as well as you did Wanda, the many times she scolded you over your lack of judgment while caring for the twins was telling enough for you.
Yet, never once have they sat you down to let you go from the job you thought you were so terrible at. The times you found yourself at their dinner table across from the both of them were times where they only kept on trying to talk more sense into you.
You had started working very early on with them, when the twins were just born and you were just a fourteen year old neighborhood kid who lived at the apartment block across theirs.
It was a job that paid much better than a waitressing job you needed so that you could pay the bills around your house and they didn't mind that you were a little younger– on account that you could be there at a minute's notice. Between the teaching and engagements from Natasha's newest scientific paper: Red Dust: Antidote to Chemical Subjugation, you concluded that availability was an important quality they were looking for.
Besides, they thought you would grow into the role. Or perhaps they took you in out of pity, you weren't sure.
With the twins fast approaching six this year and you being twenty-one, you supposed that in some warped sense, you did grow up with them. And in those ways Wanda and Natasha have made an impact in your life, from lending you their kitchen counter to study on, counseling you into going to college instead of dropping out to find a job, to simple things like what you ate. On the days you babysat, you always got warm meals.
Despite all those years with them, Natasha and Wanda still seemed to maintain some semblance of privacy around their relationship and life. Sometimes when you walked in on them having a private moment in the kitchen, they looked like greek statues at a museum. Sometimes both of them just looked like they needed a bottle of wine.
Sometimes, they looked like fugitives, or undercovers. Those were the times you caught them looking at you as though they were about to pierce right through your own veil of secrets.
Just like them, you held your own secrets. Ones about yourself and your family. Secrets you planned to bring to the grave with you.
Because surely… Surely Natasha and Wanda would be the last persons on earth you would’ve wanted to lay this secret on.
____________________
The day began like no other, a bitter winter morning. You only had one college class today and it wasn't even Wanda's. So you skipped it, made sure your three other siblings were sent off safely to school before wrapping yourself up in that dingy old coat you owned and walked down to the nearest coffee shop to finally start writing that dreaded essay for class due tomorrow.
But after four pathetic hours of staring at the singular sentence you wrote on your laptop screen, if there were any words left at all in your empty brain, they were all stuck behind an unreachable wall. You grunted and hit your head a couple of times, trying to get your brain juices flowing.
Ping! Ping!
Wanda: Hi there. This is late notice but are you able to come over from 5.30-11pm today? We will pay double rates.
Wanda: Really hope you are available but understand if you can't.
Your thumb swiped across the face of your iphone and it hovered slightly before you began to type your confirmation of being there. If you had been even more honest, you would have added that you would rather she paid you standard rates and gave you a better grade on the next crappy work you were about to submit.
Ping!
Wanda: Great, we will see you!
By the time 5pm rolled around and you hadn't even written another word, you gave up and hoped that you would have better luck at their house after the twins were asleep before walking in the direction of their block. It was situated right across yours, although theirs had security and a door man.
Even though you had seen their apartment about a million times by now, it never failed to awe you, especially when visiting after Wanda redecorated. Your family's apartment was always only a mess and a trial of ants thanks to your now dead mother and a might-as-well-be-dead father.
Every time you stood at their large oak door waiting to be let in, you were reminded of the time you stood in the exact spot with their job flyer in hand. That day, Natasha looked down at your small frame, wide-eyed and half-horror as she invited you into her beautiful apartment, the boys wailing in the background. She watched you with caution as you picked up one of the babies and placed your pinky finger in his mouth. Her caution slowly morphed into awe as he stopped crying, suckling greedily against your slender finger.
"How'd you do that?!" she gasped, "You're hired!"
After raising 3 younger siblings, you were good with babies, you told her. You chose to leave out the part where your mother left the earth when you were just in fourth grade, and you had practically had to raise your siblings since you were ten.
The door opened, bringing you back to reality. This evening, it was Wanda who opened the door to let you in.
"Thanks for being such a dear and coming on such short notice," she smiled widely, making way so that you could cross into the apartment. Her body moved away from the door, allowing it to close as both hands snaked to her ear with an earring between them. Her hands then reached out to take your coat, revealing your thick knit jumper underneath.
You clasped your hands in front of you and smiled back at her, taking in her wonderful figure despite being a mom of two. She was all dolled up with red lipstick and dark eye shadow. The dark red dress that she wore was exquisite. You rarely saw her like that.
"You look really beautiful today," your inner thoughts slipped out, stunning the both of you.
"Thank you, that's nice of you to say," she laughed awkwardly although she allowed her hand to brush your shoulders in a comforting squeeze as she passed you.
"Are you and Natasha going out to have dinner?"
"Yeah, anniversary dinner that Nat forgot about until I saw it marked on the calendar," she gestured to their trusty calendar in the kitchen before shaking her head, "Speaking of which…. Nat! Tommy! Billy!" she dragged out each name.
You heard the pitter-pattering of tiny feet, the slamming of doors and a loud, "Come find us!".
"Sorry," Wanda bit her bottom lip, "Probably shouldn't have announced your arrival that soon."
You mirrored her expression but a smile was creeping up from the corner of your lips. The boys had always enjoyed playing this impromptu game of hide and seek whenever you came by. "It's fine, I love playing." you chirped.
As you crossed the great room towards the hallway where the bedrooms were located, Natasha came out from her own bedroom, her face wide with wonder as she looked at you with your hands up into your chest, mimicking a T-Rex. "I'm coming Tommy! I'm coming Billy! You better hide boys!" You roared loudly, earning a chesty laugh from both mothers.
Before you could go any further though, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your leg. The dreaded lego piece that one of the boys must have left laying around after playtime.
With your mind so clouded, your eyes weary from the lack of sleep and your innate clumsy nature– all situations lined up into a perfect formula and you couldn't help but prepare yourself for an impending face plant.
And it all happened so quickly, the way you stumbled like a pitiful bird and the way Natasha swept back towards you. She caught you near your wrist, all in good intention to keep you upright. But the wince, albeit soft, was sonorous against their sharp ears and your sleeve hitched up just enough to reveal the angry raised skin underneath, still fresh hatched from the day before. Her tight grip reopened several and blood began to bead around the lines once again.
Both pairs of eyes flew to yours and you immediately redirected your guilty ones away. Yet the green orbs stared and they stared until you were but a weak puddle on the carpet. Then, you snatched your arm out of the redhead, bolting for the door.
You tried not to think about it too much upon leaving but it was too humiliating not to ruminate on. And you could only pray and pray harder that Wanda and Natasha would not find this revelation too interesting a topic during their weekly professor meeting.
Ping!
The phone disrupted your train of thoughts and you were thankful for it.
Kate: Hey, come find us if you're free tonite.
Kate: Kate has sent you a location. Open in Maps.
That's how you found yourself with company at a bar nearby within the hour, a hundred different conversations filling the place with each passing minute, all competing against the loud backdrop of indie music. A hundred other conversations piled up in your mind.
Kate's voice was pounding in your head about some shots and you slammed the first one down your throat faster than you ever thought possible.
As she was yapping away in the background with the rest of your college friends, you continued to try to make sense of everything. Though it was definitely the alcohol that was doing most of the thinking. When did this heavy feeling start? You tried to trace it back to the first time with your high school boyfriend who tried to force himself on you. Then, your mind went further back, tracing to the malicious resentment for your own mother for a death she could not control. Then to your deadbeat father. The more you looked, the more of a tragedy your entire life felt.
Still, how could you justify all this self-hatred?
You tried to think of one single excuse because you knew, tomorrow, Wanda would definitely confront you about it after class. Bribe her mouth shut with promises of better English essays, you thought. More appearances in class? Being a better student? How about coupons for free babysitting sessions? You decided on all of them and made a mental list in your head. And you decided you would promise her, too, that it was a one time thing although she and her wife probably knew it wasn't; wouldn't be. But you were willing to say anything.
Your company was getting more and more boisterous as they downed one shot after another, their laughter and conversations less healing than they thought it be. But you found yourself looking at Kate, a sort of teary-eyed look as she piped up, "Bad day? Is this about the profs you're babysitting for again? Because I swear…" Her voice drifted off into the darkness and you only managed a small smile and a head shake as politely as you could muster.
She shrugged, downing another shot. You could hear in the background that the bulk of them, who were chemistry majors, were complaining about Professor Romanoff being the strictest professor in your college again. And then about Professor Maximoff who wasn't far off in her level of tolerance about bullshit. Wanda was indeed an expert in her own right, an associate professor in Literature, specializing in Elizabethan texts. Describing her as uptight in school wouldn't even begin to cut it.
For a moment you thought you even heard them comment on how hot she was.
"It's a pair made in heaven," they finally lamented, throwing you a look, "You should know since you babysit for them."
You preferred to have no other thoughts on both of them.
"Anyway, I was talking to Prof Romanoff the other day and she said you canceled on them at the last minute about some babysitting thing to be out with us? But you didn't hang with us the whole week," Lila piped up, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol.
"Yeah, no. I had something else. Must've panicked and said the wrong thing," you mumbled back. Truth was, you had spent the whole day at home, broken picture frame in hand. It had been your mother's death anniversary and that date always seemed to hit you like a train.
"You ought to clear that up with her. She was pretty upset that we were bringin' you out when you committed."
"I ought to," you sighed cooly, raising another glass to your lips. You swirled the piece of ice over your tongue and cracked it under the weight of your teeth. The tequila burned its way down your throat, leaving a fiery trail that flourished after each gulp. "Fuck this," you murmured to no one in particular.
"Mm, fuck what?" Kate lunged into the conversation.
"What?" you feigned confusion and tilted your head at her.
She chuckled out of awkwardness and mirrored your head tilt, "We're thinking of heading to Lila's house upstate later… Her dad says we can come over."
"It's kind of late," you remarked, "I think I have to get home soon."
"That's what I thought," Kate smiled, "You're too much of a goody-two-shoes."
"Cooper's coming to pick us up at 8 sharp so we better get going then. If you change your mind you know where to find us," Lila piped in as she picked up her coat from the bar stool behind you, "Want a ride home? It's on the way. We could afford you a ride."
"No thanks, I think I'll stay here for a bit before leaving," you waved politely at the group as they passed you, "Stay safe, no driving please."
Kate leaned into you and pecked you lightly on your cheeks, "Love you. See you at school tomorrow for the most dreaded class."
You gave a half-hearted chuckle and then turned back to the bar. The bell clattered as they exited the bar, leaving you to the entire counter. The smoke from the smoking area had finally crowded into the part of the bar where you were seated and you watched as tiny little dragons floated around a thousand splendid lights weaving through them.
As the fog danced around in the ceiling, your eyes darted to the wild party goers on the dance floor. A girl ground into her partner. You recognized her from one of your classes. "Huh, small world," you mumbled under your breath.
"Can I get a rye whiskey," you called for the bartender, placing your bills on the table.
"Rough day, huh?" He asked as he poured the drink, "This one's on the house."
The corners of your lips were fighting to fall down as he left. You put your hand on the cold glass and toyed around with the amber liquid in it. Your heart winced as you thought about earlier. Suddenly feeling conscious about your arms, you pulled the sleeves of your knit sweater further down your wrist and palm until what was left visually were the tip of your fingers.
The bell near the door rung but that was beyond my earshot.
"One more and I'm off," you pointed at your glass after downing the drink in one gulp. The metal tip of the canister clinked against your glass as the bartender poured you a refill.
Your head felt heavy as the world and you buried it into your hands that were propped up against the high table. Slowly, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut and you pretended that you were elsewhere tonight. A picture of your mother came to you. You listened to the conversation of the couple next to you and it seemed to you that tonight was a night filled with worries.
At first, it felt like a dream, when they had stopped abruptly, mid-drunkard quarrel about feminism and cooking, shoes and money. A small smile graced your lips at the sudden quietness that came with their surprise consideration for you. Then, the boys and girls on the other side had suddenly been shot by moose tranquilizers also.
Without lifting your head, you opened your eyes into your hands and spotted unique leather shoes. Your nose suddenly became acutely aware of the musky smell of woods and spicy citrus. A specific perfume only worn by the one and only wicked witch of the east coast.
The air must've stilled. In an incredibly deep, vulnerable and shaky voice you thought she was incapable of until today, she spoke your name against the cuff of your ear.
Just your name. Natasha said nothing more, as though more words would've made you bolt for the door as you had earlier in the day but her voice against your name was enough for you to want to dig a hole into the concrete now.
Her arm reached for yours and her grasp was harder and tighter than what you had expected. You refused to look up to see all the questions that were bound to be plastered on her face. Not tonight, please.
"Is there something you need?" you said curtly, barely spinning around to acknowledge her.
"A word outside, please." It was said more like a command than a request. You obliged without an answer, allowing your body to slide off the stool and grabbed your coat before making your way out. Her grip was unfaltering and it only seemed to sink itself deeper into your skin as you reached the cold bitter winter of New York City. It was February after all.
A weighted wool coat fell around your small frame and you saw that it was Wanda who wrapped you up in what you thought looked like one of her spare coats, as though she had prepared for all of you to stand in the cold for some time. Your tattered coat would never be able to last you more than ten minutes in this weather.
Wanda still dolled up, although it was obvious under the dull street lamp and headlights from moving cars that Wanda's makeup was ruined. Natasha on the other hand, looked tired, her eyelids heavy. The snow was trickling down like a lightweight rain. A couple landed carefully on the small ledge of Natasha's eyelashes. As you looked back and forth, back and forth, switching your gaze between the both of them, you began to realize the weight of your actions. Worry lines were etched deeper than you had envisioned.
"Please," she pleaded, "Please explain everything to me– to us."
Tendrils of your hair had gone rogue in the wind without a hat to keep them in place and Natasha had to keep sweeping them out of your face.
"I don't know what you're talking–" you started carefully and your body was beginning to turn towards the street but your professor cut you off immediately, grabbing onto your hand as an attempt to keep you from bolting.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Wanda spat with a vulgarity you never thought you'd hear from someone as poised as her.
"Prof Maximoff, are you in any position–"
"Am I in any position?" She cried out with contempt, her breath floating into a fog in the air. "God." She shook her head with a painful ferocity she carried around with her. "The lies are all over your lips," Wanda looked upwards like she did before, which you came to discern were efforts to keep her precocious tears from falling. Natasha was rubbing comforting circles around her distraught wife's back, attempting to calm her.
She took another deep breath before glaring at you, "Now, it's either you tell me what's happening or you are off to the counselor's the first thing tomorrow morning."
"And what would warrant that?" the nonchalance was evident in your voice.
"Oh– don't–" She was done playing my games. The grip she had around your arm came into use as she dragged you under the streetlight you were standing next to. There was no chance for you to escape. Her arms snaked around yours, almost fusing together as she pulled the length of your knitwear upwards.
You squirmed in humiliation, all in good effort to get away but her grasp was too secure around your arms, too determined to put your shameful secret out under the light.
The minute your angry scarred skin hit the winter air, it felt as though your arms were on fire. Your cheeks blazed red under the starless night. You were too afraid to look at Wanda who glared at you like you had killed her own children. So you turned to look at Natasha, but her face was crumpled with what looked like disgust to you, all contorted with agony and a small twist of anguish.
"This," Wanda rasped, as if you hadn't gotten her the first time.
"What about it?" you tried to pull back again but she wasn't letting you have it your way at all. Instead, Natasha came to stand behind you, further trapping you between the both of them. The force of her grip became too great and once again, a few newer ones burst open, pearly dark red forming alog puffy lines. Neither of them seem to flinch, as though they had seen it all before.
"What about –? Are you telling me that these aren't what I think they are? That you fell, or– or– you accidentally got scratched by my cat. We are both professors, for the love of God. If you think we are so naive to all the world's happenings then you are remarkably wrong."
"It's nothing. You can't just–"
"No wonder Billy was telling us about the red marks around your wrists," Natasha's voice cracked at the last word.
"What?" Your eyes snapped directly back towards the redhead's emerald eyes for the first time this horrid night. A new wave of glassiness rested carefully, waiting to be swept down by a simple flitter of her eyelids. "Children pick up on more things than you'd ever expect." She explained with a tinge of twisted anger.
You watched as chartreuse eyes disappeared under dark eyelids. "Don't you dare cry for me," you said when a few tears ran her mascara down bright cheeks "Don't you–"
Your words were cut short when Wanda pulled your body flushed against hers, all in a good attempt to give you something that resembled a hug, except it was all very painful, the way her nails dug into your flesh. You broke into a fresh bout of puddly tears. "Please don't." Was the only thing you could manage.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Natasha said as she looked at you in her wife's arms. "What if your parents find out? Your mom, your dad… Do you know how upset they will be? And we– We can't be the people who keep this secret. It's only downhill from here. You think you can stop it, but no."
"My parents… They don't care," you choked.
"That's a foolish way of thinking," Natasha continued, "If I, we… your employers, professors, whatever, can care more than your parents do, then I think there is something very wrong."
"You won't understand… You won't ever," You tried to push the brunette off your body but it only served to close the space between you both even more. Natasha pointed her gaze away from you, more tears cutting into her cheeks.
The silence was steadfast and heavy as the three of you stood under the streetlamp, in the light yet so much in the dark.
"Help. Us. Understand." Wanda's wavering voice was of a lower pitch than her usual. There was something comforting about the fact that you both could see neither of each other's faces.
Your heart sank into your stomach when she put all her strength into a squeeze, as though believing if she hugged tighter that you would magically be more willing to say what she wanted to hear. Both of them went on with pleas filled with good intentions, their advice and warnings about what might happen if this didn't stop now– If you didn't stop now. But they both knew, and you knew, that despite all of this "It was only this one time" talk that surely, there would be one more, and another would follow right behind.
Before you knew it, square one would be where you began and ended. And this wasn't some everything comes full circle bullshit, no. This was, is, everything but that. This was about being stuck, lost, helpless and screaming in pain.
"Please… Just let me go," was the last of the begging you were going to do today.
And Wanda reluctantly peeled herself apart from you before joining her wife by the waist as they watched you stumble away with her stolen coat into the darkness, further and further away from the light.
Because at this very moment, this felt like it was, will be, and would be, those battles that were fought to be lost.