[wanda listens, watching the dew of condensation on sam's glass, sees how his hand tightens around it as he finds the words to explain what happened—and also what he thinks is happening. it reminds her all too much of missions back home, of the potentiality for wrong-doing, of how sometimes mission briefs were too simple and too to-the-point, only for them to find out whilst in the mission that they had actually gone in blind.
sometimes, things led to a dead end, or to something without much of a resolution.
this feels like the latter.]
...you're going to go back. [it's the obvious conclusion, the obvious decision to make. the next bit she says it with a bit of a light tone, looking down at her hands.] Because it's what we do.
[heroes, avengers, whatever they want to call themselves these days. she swallows, wishing that she wasn't so far away from him—physically—and that she could go, too, to keep him safe, to see with her own eyes that no harm would come to him or any of those important to her.
but that's not something she can do right now.]
I'll send you something. [she's resolute; she will find a way to do something with her magic that will help him, that will keep him safe.] Even if it's something that you really wish you had from back home, I can... do some things, like Peter's spider...web things? [#terminology? she turns to look at him.] And for Steve. It's not like he will let you go without him.
[ that is the problem, isn't it? that he looks at these pieces and sees a larger picture, that he's so used to seeing that larger picture because that's where steve has always needed him. where he's always needed to be. he sees an uncertain fact here, a piece of information that doesn't make sense there, and suddenly all sam can see is the whole of it. what could happen, if these things are left alone. what is possible, if those building blocks are still there.
he has spent the last few days being yelled at - by julie, by jesper, by peter, by inej. geralt, who sam had never even heard him raise his voice. he prepares for wanda, too, though he's not sure why. prepares to hear her tone, in the same way he'd imagined the message through their minds.
you're going to go back she says instead, and when sam's eyes jerk upwards towards her, he finds her eyes down at her own hands. because it's what we do.
sam feels...he doesn't know how to describe it. if wanda looks up to see his expression, she'll see his eyes a bit wide, almost younger. it's a relief, suddenly, not to feel like he has to explain why. why he's driven for the larger picture, why he needs to help them all, even if it leaves him bedridden for days at a time.
wanda doesn't tell him off. doesn't shatter the cup in his hand, or harden her jaw. sam can't explain the rush of all that tension flooding out of him, doesn't know what to call the feeling of what is left behind, but what he does feel is that same distance. how far she really is.
his expression shifts to confusion, his head tilting. ] Like the care package? [ it pulls a small smile to his mouth, and he sets his cheek against the top of her head again. lets go of one hand around the cup to wrap it around her, to pull her closer to his side. ] I'll wait for it. And Steve is coming, too. You think I'm going to let him out of my sight?
[ but that's another conversation, isn't it? another time, another topic, another heavy weight that sam accepts he will carry, and continue to carry.
it's another moment before he exhales. ] I really am sorry for worrying you, for what it's worth.
[she doesn't need to see his face to realize what reaction her words have caused on him; sam is incredibly easy to read as far as his emotions are concerned. wanda thinks, has thought, that it's because he doesn't mind being unguarded—but it's likely also just the way he is: open and welcoming, nothing hidden in his sleeve to be revealed later.
he is warm, and wanda can feel that even more as he pulls her closer to his side, an arm around her shoulders.
she lets him, leaning against him, wrapping an arm around his middle. she misses this—misses the home and clarity in her life when they were just the avengers. him promising that he'll wait for her package is a promise she knows he will keep.]
It's okay.
[softly said, a quiet sort of melancholy. sam is safe now, which is what matters. she cannot control what may happen in the future, but she can just take it as it is—one day at a time.]
[ she's not wrong - sam has never been difficult to read. never really tried. between seeing what happens when emotions and mental health are put on the backburner for vets like him, to joining a team of people used to lying, it felt more necessary to be honest. to be himself. sarah had always made fun of him, used to tease him whenever he tried to join in during the family poker nights, because anything and everything was always open, right there, for the world to see.
wanda doesn't seem to mind how he pulls her in a little closer, and really, sam's more thankful for that than anything. he's not exactly sure when the focus here shifted from trying to comfort her to him finding comfort in the opposite direction, in being able to lean up against her and her wrap her arm around his middle, and just. be there for a little bit.
its been more months than sam really wants to count since he feels like he's had this. over a year since he's been home, and longer still, if he wants to count anyone other thank his nephews. his sister. all one side of the world he was trying to keep.
it's okay she says, and sam knows that it isn't that simple. part of him considers poking at it, trying to see if there's anything there to open up, but then her question catches him. stills him a little, just for a second or two, before he lets out another breath and relaxes fully back into their spot. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
sometimes, things led to a dead end, or to something without much of a resolution.
this feels like the latter.]
...you're going to go back. [it's the obvious conclusion, the obvious decision to make. the next bit she says it with a bit of a light tone, looking down at her hands.] Because it's what we do.
[heroes, avengers, whatever they want to call themselves these days. she swallows, wishing that she wasn't so far away from him—physically—and that she could go, too, to keep him safe, to see with her own eyes that no harm would come to him or any of those important to her.
but that's not something she can do right now.]
I'll send you something. [she's resolute; she will find a way to do something with her magic that will help him, that will keep him safe.] Even if it's something that you really wish you had from back home, I can... do some things, like Peter's spider...web things? [#terminology? she turns to look at him.] And for Steve. It's not like he will let you go without him.
...so, just wait until it gets to you. Alright?
no subject
he has spent the last few days being yelled at - by julie, by jesper, by peter, by inej. geralt, who sam had never even heard him raise his voice. he prepares for wanda, too, though he's not sure why. prepares to hear her tone, in the same way he'd imagined the message through their minds.
you're going to go back she says instead, and when sam's eyes jerk upwards towards her, he finds her eyes down at her own hands. because it's what we do.
sam feels...he doesn't know how to describe it. if wanda looks up to see his expression, she'll see his eyes a bit wide, almost younger. it's a relief, suddenly, not to feel like he has to explain why. why he's driven for the larger picture, why he needs to help them all, even if it leaves him bedridden for days at a time.
wanda doesn't tell him off. doesn't shatter the cup in his hand, or harden her jaw. sam can't explain the rush of all that tension flooding out of him, doesn't know what to call the feeling of what is left behind, but what he does feel is that same distance. how far she really is.
his expression shifts to confusion, his head tilting. ] Like the care package? [ it pulls a small smile to his mouth, and he sets his cheek against the top of her head again. lets go of one hand around the cup to wrap it around her, to pull her closer to his side. ] I'll wait for it. And Steve is coming, too. You think I'm going to let him out of my sight?
[ but that's another conversation, isn't it? another time, another topic, another heavy weight that sam accepts he will carry, and continue to carry.
it's another moment before he exhales. ] I really am sorry for worrying you, for what it's worth.
no subject
he is warm, and wanda can feel that even more as he pulls her closer to his side, an arm around her shoulders.
she lets him, leaning against him, wrapping an arm around his middle. she misses this—misses the home and clarity in her life when they were just the avengers. him promising that he'll wait for her package is a promise she knows he will keep.]
It's okay.
[softly said, a quiet sort of melancholy. sam is safe now, which is what matters. she cannot control what may happen in the future, but she can just take it as it is—one day at a time.]
Can we stay like this for a while?
no subject
wanda doesn't seem to mind how he pulls her in a little closer, and really, sam's more thankful for that than anything. he's not exactly sure when the focus here shifted from trying to comfort her to him finding comfort in the opposite direction, in being able to lean up against her and her wrap her arm around his middle, and just. be there for a little bit.
its been more months than sam really wants to count since he feels like he's had this. over a year since he's been home, and longer still, if he wants to count anyone other thank his nephews. his sister. all one side of the world he was trying to keep.
it's okay she says, and sam knows that it isn't that simple. part of him considers poking at it, trying to see if there's anything there to open up, but then her question catches him. stills him a little, just for a second or two, before he lets out another breath and relaxes fully back into their spot. ]
Yeah. Long as you want, I'll stay.