#faces colliding!

sophie/harry

extended thoughts on faces colliding [where, favorite type of liplock, yay or nay on PDA]... | these two definitely gravitate toward the comfort kiss ... when situations get heavy, there’s no better reset than the touch of lips to shoulder, wrist, or cheek. if they’re gifted a more substantial moment to breathe, then there’s usually a proper meeting of mouths featuring the same gentleness and care, but meant to linger and carry them through whatever they might face until they get their next chance. 

won’t you pick the pieces up (don’t let me keep on walking on broken glass) [for my dearest @pasmonblog​! an entirely overboard fulfillment of winterwitch; kiss by a campfire; *vague references to wandavision, the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier, and schitt’s creek*]

Part II of my Wanda-centric series i’ll have a cup of tea (and tell you of my dreaming)

and what if i could live like this - but not forever and what if you could move the needle to a more forgiving song and what if this was never really broken all along but - for tonight - i'm sleeping with my television on

television | jack's mannequin

...

There's a story here, there’s always a story. This story starts with the good doctor’s helpful suggestion that a machine that cycles through soothing sounds might help with the nightmares. You know, the ones Bucky doesn’t have? Actually, she recommends an app he can download, but his phone needs to age a couple decades to be able to support the damn thing.

He's standing at the check-out of Atlantic Avenue’s Best Buy with three different types, already planning to chuck every single one in the garbage. A tropical rainforest is going to work miracles that the city’s constantly blaring siren soundtrack can’t? 

A hand reaches from behind to tap one of his boxes, as a pleasant lilt he can almost place warns: ‘If you leave this running all night, it dies after a week.’

‘Thanks. You use either of these?’ He turns, holding the two that are still contenders out to his informant. And grinning like an idiot because he recognizes her. Her hair and her affect are both less fiery than they’d been when he’d met her in Wakanda - her messy bun’s edging toward brown and her eyes have painful memories crammed behind them. But her expression’s warm, slightly guilty, when she shakes her head. 

‘I have this’ - Wanda touches number two - ‘but it’s still in the box.’ He wants to ask if she’s okay, if there’s an ass that needs kicking – not that he’s supposed to engage in that extracurricular anymore, and she sure as shit can take care of herself; he’s caught the news coverage, though – but she keeps going. ‘My therapist tells me this only hinders my recovery, but - ’ She shrugs, passes him a plastic case with what looks like a family and a misspelled curse on its front ‘- I love it. It’s comforting.’

‘Has to work better than whatever crap I was about to buy.’

‘I think so. You're welcome to judge for yourself. I’m happy to start at the beginning again.’

They trade numbers on the sidewalk out front, he brings lattes to her apartment two nights later, and David drives out of town in Roland’s truck as the sun rises.

…

Wanda's totally right, the doc lectures him about media immersion simply blocking his negative thoughts rather than eliminating them. He smiles serenely at her, says ‘But I have two whole friends now! Aren’t you excited?’ and leaves Wanda a voicemail on his walk home: ‘Whenever we do season two, food’s on me. Mental health should not, actually, be entertainment-dependent and Raynor’s not any happier about our combined coping skills than your guy.’

He knows she’s got class at Fordham until seven-thirty, but she’ll call when she gets out.

…

They finish the series right as the semester’s ending. 

He hen-pecks his way through Wanda’s dictation of the final paragraph of her unit plan for her Educational Methods class. 

[She'd started crying so hard at David’s ‘I am continuously impressed by you’ compliment to Alexis that there was no way in hell she could see her screen and he’d been afraid her laptop might end up with water damage, erasing all of her efforts in a flash.]

Once she’s hiccupped one last citation at him and he’s saved her paper in four different places, he glances over at her. ‘The doc’s still bugging me about finding more sustainable sleep aids. She fails to understand the medicinal properties of the Rose family. And I basically filibustered her ass on the subject last week. Nothing.’ Wanda laughs through her tears. ‘Anyway. I'm thinking of trying out the up close and personal version of ambient noise. You want to come camping this weekend?’

Wanda’s nose scrunches in disgust and her head slides from side to side, answering for her on its own. But what she offers next is a surprise: ‘I'm only coming because you can’t afford to lose any other limbs, and I can’t say that won’t happen if you’re alone.’

‘We’ll start another show as soon as we get back,’ he promises.

…

Camping blows. 

Which, judging by Wanda’s expression underneath her soggy hood, is a secret that she really wants to let him in on. Like he isn’t already fully aware. 

The fire’s somehow soldiering on despite the downpour, but they’ve got maybe five minutes before it gutters. ‘Should we admit defeat? Stay city couch commandos forever?’ 

Wanda’s entire being lights up at his suggestion, and she’d probably take flight right now if he wasn’t around. ‘Thank you’ she says instead, leaning over to frame his face between her wet palms and pressing her mouth to his. 

‘Molniya, if you were dying to go home that badly, all you had to do was say so. I can take a hint,” he tells her after they’ve spent several minutes otherwise occupied.

‘That, sir - ’ she smirks ‘ - was for everything but this brilliant disaster of yours.’

And she might levitate a little on the way to the car. 

m, my friend! thank you for bringing our delightful nerd duo to the forefront of my fandom brain for a bit! i’m so sorry this isn’t in fic form, but i’m hellishly rusty on my sorkin-ese! NEVER FEAR, though. i still have thoughts on this!

some might say that sloan and don’s first kiss was the book delivery accompaniment we saw before our eyes. i, however, don’t subscribe to this assumption. where would the fun be? instead ... 

don had been wanting to kiss her the entire time she was breaking down over the photo leak. but kissing a girl one likes very much while she’s emotionally distraught over a delicate situation is not a grand romantic gesture. it feels tacky. so he opts for truthful reveals, the ‘you’re impressive’ slipping out without his brain really providing permission.

then sloan’s punching the douche, the connection resoundingly solid and horribly crunchy. her hand’s already angrily mottled when the elevator slides open.