#ycuwill

     “What brings you by? Don’t tell me;” He pauses to hold up a finger, looking thoughtful. “The world is ending and you need my brains and extraordinary beauty to assist you in saving it?” His lips slant up into a crooked grin as he finishes, brow arched high. “Or, you’re looking for someone else but got me instead.”

meme? idk

Though Vision appreciated every type of weather the days had to offer, there was something unique about rain, particularly those in late summer, warm and fresh upon one’s skin. The first time it had ever rained in his time alive, he had stood on the landing pad of the Avengers tower, his face turned upward towards the clouds. He had remained there for hours until the storm had passed, admiring the city below and the sound of water splashing against the various structures around him.

In the open countryside surrounding the compound, it was quieter, save for the whisper of raindrops against the river’s surface, disrupting his reflection when he ventured to the water’s edge alone. It was a wonderful experience, though he discovered it was always better in the presence of a trusted friend. Wanda was better company than the stillness of his own mind, and they did not always need conversation to fill the time spent together. 

On the roof of the compound, a section of garden existed, protected by an awning of glass, a collection of comfortable lounge chairs in one corner. Vision was a common occupant of the garden, tending to the flowers that he had chosen himself, and Wanda often joined him, the hours passed idly watching the clouds roll by. 

The rain had come suddenly, a steady downpour falling like a curtain across their view, tapping away at the glass above them. He had moved to the edge of the roof, his arm extending beyond the overhead glass to allow the rain to soak through his sleeve; he didn’t mind it at all, more content with the experience of rain to fret over sodden clothes. 

After a long moment in the same position, he turned away, taking his seat beside Wanda, her chair pressed against a stone bench beneath the roses. The petals pushed against his back and he took care not to crush them, sitting more towards the edge, though he showed no discomfort.

Her voice came softly, enough that he could have mistaken it for the patter of the rain, and turning his head slightly, he met her waiting gaze, lips parting as he processed the request, the intricate gears of his eyes whirling to a stop as his mind went momentarily blank. Perhaps it was ideal to not have a thought in his head–no self-doubt to hinder him in indulging in this request, no attempt to tamp down the wild fluttering in his stomach. 

Leaning over the arm of her chair, his hand pressing into the stone edge beneath him, his movement was slow, hesitant and careful, granting her an opportunity to pull away. It was an innocent press against her cheek, his lips unfamiliar with any form of the act, feather-light upon her skin. He allowed himself to linger for a few seconds more, soon straightening into his former position, fingers curling tightly on the bench at either side of his legs. His cheeks grew warm soon after, the fluttering within him refusing to dissipate.

And how annoyed does he get when people (Natasha) borrow all of them?

     “That... made me pretty hungry. I fancy some chili, how about you?”