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Darcy stretched in her bed, fingertips touching the wall behind her and legs weighed down by a mountain of blankets. She hadn't bothered setting an alarm—Wanda's magic gently woke her up in the mornings, so now she only had to blindly flail for her glasses instead of her alarm clock. If only she could put a spell on Darcy's hair to stop it from knotting together.
Well, Wanda likely could and would if Darcy asked but then she would lose out on the feeling of her girlfriend carding her fingers through her hair every morning and gently pulling her tangles apart before she handed those sections to Darcy to brush out. Before that could happen, Darcy would have to go downstairs first.
Darcy rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, the wooden floor urging her forward with its hushed creak. Usually, the first thing Darcy would do in the mornings would be to shower but today… she honestly wanted to roll back into bed and convince Wanda to join her. No matter how much she wanted to, she knew that couldn't happen. Fate never allowed Wanda to rest for long. Hell, Wanda never allowed herself to rest for longer than absolutely necessary.
So Darcy wouldn't indulge in the slow mornings—what point was there when she'd be doing so alone? She would, at the very least, brush her teeth and splash water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She wasn't nearly as put together as she usually was in the mornings but it couldn't be helped. At least Wanda didn't expect her to be ready to work the moment she began walking down the stairs.
It wasn't long before she reached the kitchen and saw Wanda pouring coffee into a yellow mug for Darcy. Maybe it was because yellow and red—scarlet, not red, she could practically hear Wanda saying—contrasted nicely with each other. Or maybe Wanda thought Darcy looked best when she wore yellow clothing and the mug was a hint.
"One of these days, you're going to have to let me show off my superb coffee brewing skills," Darcy commented as she gratefully accepted the coffee from Wanda. Dating a witch sure had its perks. The coffee was the perfect temperature and with how perceptive Wanda was, it had the perfect amount of sugar.
Wanda laughed, the sound so full of light that Darcy couldn't help the light blush from coloring her cheeks and adoration in her eyes. "I'm not stopping you from brewing more coffee." The witch sipped from her own red mug, her green eyes shining in contrast.
"Maybe not but you start your mornings with your endless coffee and are three cups in by the time I wake up," Darcy half-heartedly complained. "Would it kill you to sleep in sometimes?"
Wanda gently squeezed Darcy's bicep before walking past her, practically floating past her, to sit at the kitchen table. "It wouldn't kill me but sleep doesn't come easy to me. Especially not now when I am more vulnerable than ever before." Wanda sighed and stared into her coffee, the steam wafting upward toward her face. Darcy moved to sit across from Wanda and laid her hand on top of the shop owner's. Wanda shifted her hand so that it was loosely intertwined with Darcy's. "I'm sorry, Darcy. I thought I would be able to brush off Agatha's warning but she's right. Chthon and the Darkhold… it is a burden I must bear but a burden all the same."
"Why not share that burden with someone?" Darcy asked, though she was well-aware of the answer.
Wanda smiled sadly. "The burden is too great for anyone else to bear. Even though I am practically made for it, I feel its toll and the way it seeks to corrupt me. Besides, is this not sharing the burden? Ororo said Arakko taught Magnus that speaking your pain is the only way for it to heal—that speaking your pain requires you to confront it, to bear yourself before it and proclaim you are stronger. And to accept it as a part of who you are."
Darcy smiled and lightly squeezed Wanda's hand. She knew how hard Magneto's loss was on her, especially when he had chosen not to be resurrected via Wanda's Waiting Room. They knew why, of course. He felt he had lived too long, much longer than he deserved, and wished to see his first-born again. His eldest daughter had not been a mutant and so she could not be resurrected, unlike his other children. Though Wanda hadn't said it, she knew the shop owner felt that Magneto's reasoning that the finality of death was needed to be able to be a leader on Arakko was just an excuse.
Darcy hoped Wanda knew that even if they were blood-related, Magneto would have made the same choice.
Wanda continued, "Chthon and the Darkhold are part of me now, my very soul has been carved out to keep them contained."
"Maybe that's the problem," Darcy suggested.
Wanda pulled back a little but kept their hands intertwined and asked, "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, you say that you've accepted them but when you talk about it, it's like they're separate. You said you carved out your soul to keep them contained—that doesn't sound like you think of them as part of you."
The witch frowned before she lifted her mug to her lips, likely a way to give her more time to mull over her words before replying. Though the mug was covering most of Wanda's face, Darcy could see the way her eyebrows pinched together in thought.
Despite herself, the journalist let out a small giggle before she quickly brought her own mug up to her face. She tipped her head back so that Wanda couldn't make eye contact with her but that meant she couldn't see Wanda and was stuck staring at the ceiling.
"What's funny?" Wanda asked, her voice light.
Darcy slowly tipped her head back down and set her mug on the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's just– the way you pinch your eyebrows together when you're thinking is… cute," Darcy answered hesitantly.
"Cute?" Wanda chuckled. "There aren't many that would use that word to describe me."
"There are!" Darcy insisted. "They just won't say it to your face since it's a girlfriend privilege. Besides, what else would I describe you as?"
"Strong? Talented? Caring? The best girlfriend in existence?" Wanda suggested, her finger glowing scarlet as she spun it over her coffee.
"And you are all of those things! And you are also cute!" Darcy argued.
"And you are very sweet to me," Wanda replied, a soft smile dancing at her lips.
Darcy smiled, not having the heart to voice her disagreement. She had blood on her hands and though she knew she had to tell Wanda at some point, Darcy was afraid to. Wanda was just so good and Darcy didn't want to hurt her, especially not after Magneto had been killed. She couldn't help the fact that she was falling in love with the shop keeper, the one who had accepted Darcy with open arms when she had first stumbled through the Last Door. She had promised Darcy that she would believe her, no matter how nonsensical her story was because she deals with the nonsensical and fantastical on a daily basis. The Last Door finds those with nowhere to go and brings them to Wanda, the woman that has the power to bend reality to her whim.
"We should get the shop ready to open," Darcy said after they spent a few minutes in silence.
Wanda hummed, "I suppose you're right. Though you are the one that still isn't ready for the day."
"We can't all have magic that lets us get dressed with a snap of our fingers," Darcy joked, even as she polished off her coffee.
Wanda sighed, "That 'snap of my fingers' gets me ready to fight in an instant, but I do like taking my time in the mornings. My magic makes it so that I don't need sleep and getting myself ready without my powers lets me take a moment to slow down and be with myself."
"Is that why you don't wake me up in the morning?" Darcy inquired, angling her face down so that her glasses slid down her nose.
Wanda giggled, "I don't wake you up because you do not like waking up early."
Darcy opened her mouth to argue but realized her girlfriend was right. "Fair point," she conceded before standing up and putting her mug in the sink. She'd wash it after she finished getting ready. "I'll be back down in twenty minutes to help you with the shop."
"Help with the shop?" Wanda chuckled, the morning light practically dancing in her green eyes. Darcy wondered if it happened because Wanda was subconsciously using her magic or if the sunlight was simply drawn to Wanda, as all magic seemed to be. "It happens to be your job."
"A job I am very happy to have," Darcy replied as she left the room. She pushed her hair out of her face, her fingers running through her course strands. Surprisingly, Darcy fingers didn't snag any tangles.
She'd have to thank Wanda for that no-tangle spell, even if she missed the feeling of her fingers carefully pulling her tangles apart.
Darcy came down stairs to find Wanda chatting with a customer, an older woman who bought a tea that reminded her of home. Wanda always sympathized with that plight, even though she had scarcely felt like she had a true homeland. There were places the witch felt nostalgic for but they had all spurned her, one way or another.
Maybe that's why Darcy felt so drawn to her and so guilty for hiding things from her. Wanda knew what it was like to have to run away because things had spiraled out of control…
Just like Darcy.
Looking at how freely Wanda spoke to her customers, most wouldn't know how often people have attacked her when she hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe that's why Pietro could be so overbearing when it came to Wanda, so insistent that his way was the only way to keep Wanda safe; sometimes, it seemed like he was more protective of her than he was of his own daughter.
Sometimes, she wondered how Wanda's parents reacted to Pietro's controlling behavior. Did they scold him and tell him to respect his sister? Did they praise him for keeping Wanda safe?
Had they already been separated by the time it started?
Darcy sighed. Wanda certainly had a family as complicated as it was heartbreaking, not even counting her own children. Wanda's sons were kind, though. Darcy hadn't met her girlfriend's niece but by all accounts, she was an empathetic and driven girl.
Wanda had joked that her sons and niece had gotten all of the strength and kindness of the Maximoffs with none of the instability. Darcy hadn't known how to respond to that, so she had stayed silent.
Sometimes, Wanda would talk about her parents—the ones that had raised her and Pietro as their own and were related to her mother. Django and Marya Maximoff, the ones who loved Wanda and Pietro and did their best to protect them from the realities of the world.
Wanda didn't speak of them often, her eyes filling with sadness whenever she did. Though Marya still lived, Wanda scarcely found time to speak with her. There was barely any time to speak of her.
Darcy wondered if Marya feared Wanda the way everyone else did, if Wanda's pain was not from the distant stranger but from the warm eyes of the woman she believed to be her mother growing wide in terror.
The bell hanging above the front door jingled as the customer left. The Emporium was empty once more, though it wouldn't be for long.
"How'd it go?" Darcy inquired as she wrapped her arms around Wanda from behind. Wanda settled her hands on Darcy's forearm, her thumb caressing her.
"Fine, I suppose," Wanda answered, her accent thicker than usual, as if she was longing to speak in her native tongue. Or perhaps she simply longed to speak in any other language, as though one of them would bring her a sense of home. When Monica would stop by, she and Wanda would speak in French the entire time. "She's from Serbia," Wanda added. "She had to flee after they were attacked by villains but her children have chosen to go back to help the country rebuild."
"You'd think Tony Stark would build some robots to help them rebuild," Darcy joked.
Wanda hummed, "He has but it's not always what people need or want. Serbia doesn't have many heroes that can aid them when villains attack. Getting help after they've lost everything can feel like an insult, as though they were just an afterthought."
"That sucks," Darcy said, tightening her hold around Wanda's waist.
"An astute observation," Wanda chuckled before she tilted her head back to kiss Darcy. "It can't be helped. The Serbian government lost faith in most heroes after that reality show led to a town being obliterated and the families of heroes being targeted in the aftermath didn't make it an appealing job."
"And then Iron Man and Captain Marvel got in quite the fight and then HYDRA happened…" Darcy trailed off.
"Don't remind me," Wanda groaned. "Steve is still struggling to earn back people's trust and it feels like Tony just got his body back." She began rubbing her temple with her fingertips, nails carefully angled away from her face. "But," Wanda said, "we can't ignore how it's affected people; you don't know how many people that have walked through the Last Door that believed they had nowhere to turn because they lost faith in heroes."
Darcy could sympathize with them. Before stumbling through the Last Door and meeting Wanda, the thought of turning to heroes didn't even cross the journalist's mind. Sometimes, it just felt like heroes were too busy saving the world to bother saving people.
Darcy knew it wasn't fair that she felt this way. She'd been saved by heroes countless times, more times than she was even aware of. In that moment, she was probably being saved by some ragtag group of heroes that just stopped a god or cosmic entity from destroying the planet.
She had been saved from the biggest threat to her life but was left to struggle alone in the aftermath.
At least she had Wanda now.
Wanda, who was so kind and trusting, had saved Darcy's life and she didn't even know who she saved Darcy from. All she knew was that Darcy needed help and had no one to turn to.
"You know," Darcy began, "the Last Door is restoring people's faith in heroes—in you."
Wanda sighed, "The Last Door is less about people believing in me and more about people believing in themselves. I'm not saving anyone, I'm helping people save themselves." She turned around in Darcy's arms and brought their foreheads together. "And maybe… I'm helping them save me."
Darcy smiled and tilted her head up to give Wanda a kiss. "You should be a motivational speaker with that attitude."
"I'm serious," she insisted. "Without the Last Door, my chaos would have a lot less to do. Without people coming through that door, I'd continue to hear Chthon whispering nightmares into my ear until I have to fight to not make them real."
"Is it really that bad?" Darcy asked, her eyebrows creasing in concern.
Wanda pulled away and smiled sadly. "It could get that bad if I didn't have something, or someone," she stared into Darcy's eyes, "to make those whispers fall on deaf ears."
"On the job, Ms. Maximoff?" Darcy joked, letting out a scandalized gasp for good measure.
"You're one to talk, Ms. Lewis," Wanda replied, eyes shining with delight.
The bell jingled again and they pulled away from each other, small and mischievous smiles on their faces.
"Welcome to the Emporium!" Darcy greeted, like the stellar girlfriend employee that she was.
The young woman at the door smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I can come back later."
Wanda waved her hand, "We were just wrapping up. What do you need?"
"The secret to a loving relationship?" she joked, her smile growing wider when Wanda and Darcy joined in.
What a pleasant morning, Darcy thought. She ignored the pit in her stomach that reminded her of the secret she was keeping from Wanda.
I'll tell her, Darcy decided. Eventually.
She pushed her thoughts away and tuned back into the conversation, refusing to allow her fear to dictate every part of her life.
She would be okay. They would be okay.
