Vision keeps fidgeting all the way through the mission debrief.

Wanda notices because she sits directly across from him, and any movement from him at all aside from breathing and blinking is uncommon when he's listening to Cap or Nat talk about important details and tactic analysis, and not at all because she's in the habit of staring at him any chance she gets.

Nope. Definitely not the second one.

Anyone who says otherwise is getting an immediate hex to the face, especially Sam, because that man really needs to get a new hobby outside of ribbing the Scarlet Witch about her 'adorable' interactions with her boyfriend. Partner. Whatever.

So.

Twitchy Vision. Odd thing to witness, really. He doesn't twiddle or tap his fingers like a normal person, because he is a living synthetic android and therefore everything he does is not normal by most standards. Instead, his fingers flex, tightening into fists briefly before releasing, straightening out to lay flat on the table, before the cycle repeats and he looks ready to punch something again.

Wanda's kind of half-hoping the potential punch is going to be aimed at Scott when Steve finishes the discussion with a "Take a break this week, guys. You've earned it."

"Barely," muttered Natasha, who's always very verbal about her disapproval with the new recruits efforts on the training field, but Steve shushes her with a look and they're released without incident.

Wanda immediately stands, fully prepared to grab her boyfriend-partner-whatever and ask exactly what it is that's bothering him, but she doesn't even get the chance to push in her chair before he actually floats over the table and lands beside her, oblivious to the displeased tongue click from Steve and the quiet "What even" from a rapidly blinking Scott not far off.

"Wanda," he said, accented voice more than enough to make the woman's heart skip a beat; she used to get pissed that just his voice could make her practically melt, but now it's just one of the things she really, really likes about him.

"Vizh," she returned, raising an eyebrow at his uncommon way of approach.

Dating a guy who was so completely inhuman had its moments. "Got something on your mind?"

He started at the question, as if he were afraid she'd read his mind already. She gave him a flat look. 'Really? You think that little of me?' He looked a bit sheepish at the silent admonishment.

"Sorry, I don't mean to assume anything, but I have-" he winced "-a surprise for you."

Wanda's left eyebrow joined her other one in meeting her hairline. "A surprise?" she repeated, italics audible.

"Yes." The android huffed a breath, looking – dare she say it – nervous for a moment, before quickly steeling himself and looking her in the eye. "How would you like to go on a date tonight?"

The brunette broke into a wide smile, eyes sparkling. "Okay, maybe it's you reading my mind. Where to?"

"Okay then, Mr. Mysterious," she smirked, licking a dab of whipped cream off of her finger with deliberate slowness, "What is this all about? My favorite meal, with my favorite flowers on the table, followed by my favorite movie, followed by my favorite ice cream. With sprinkles. I love being pampered, don't get me wrong, but if you keep this going I'll start getting suspicious something more than a date is up."

That wins a smile out of him; it's wobbly and a little strained, but her humor is enough to ground him in the moment.

He's been Mr. Fidgety all evening, from the moment they entered the restaurant to the moment they left the ice cream parlor, making fists at the table and tugging awkwardly at his cufflinks – he looks pretty fucking fancy in a suit, all purple-red skin and fine, expensive fabrics that compliment his unusual artificial skin color, and god damn if he doesn't look adorable with a bowtie – all around looking like a little awkward dress-up doll and if he doesn't say something soon she's gonna smack him, cause this is getting ridiculous.

He fumbled awkwardly with the small plastic dish his portion of ice cream had come in, staring at the melted remains lazily swirling around at the bottom.

She winced a bit – she hoped the whole seductively-licking-ice-cream-off-of-finger thing hadn't been too much for the poor, socially inept android – and leaned toward him, sympathetic smile gracing her features. "Vizh, we've been over this, even if we're dating you don't need to treat me like a princess-"

"But I want to."

The interruption makes her pause.

He seemed to wilt slightly at her silence, get a little smaller, but then he squared his shoulders determinedly and kept talking. He still won't meet her eyes.

"I want to treat you like royalty. I want to pamper you with ice cream because sugar makes you talk a lot, and I like hearing your voice when you're excited. I want to take you to movies and dinners and operas and dances, because you enjoy all those things and if you enjoy something, I will surely enjoy it too. I want to spend time with you outside of training and missions, but not just on dates and days off; we're… dating, if it can be called that, and I don't wish to smother you, but… I want to spend every second of my life with you, Wanda, even if it means all we do is fight villains and save the world every other day or running around the world spending Tony's money on trinkets and fancy restaurants and movie tickets."

Well.

Wanda was floored by such a bold, hefty statement, so much so that the only reply she could offer was a strangled "Uh…?"

Vision jumped at the sound, as if just realizing she was right next to him during his sweet little speech, and he hurriedly chucked his plastic cup away – it sailed past the nearby trash can and splattered on the ground, but who the hell cared – one hand plunging into his pocket while the other quickly snatched Wanda's left hand, as if afraid she would retreat if given the chance.

As it was, Wanda was too startled to do anything other than stare as her boyfriend-partner-something dropped to one knee on the soggy sidewalk outside of Baskin Robbins, hand reemerging from his pocket to reveal a tiny red-velvet box that she recognized immediately.

She stiffened, blinking rapidly, head spinning at an impossible rate; now?

He was asking her now?!

It wasn't like she'd never entertained the thought, but-

Casual flirting and occasional dates were one thing, but there was a pretty clear reason why neither of them knew exactly what to call each other.

Were they friends? Absolutely.

Partners? Of course.

Boyfriend/girlfriend? Who the hell knew!

Labels were never something Wanda liked to assign to herself, and she knew Vision didn't like them either; didn't like being called a 'robot' or 'tin can', no matter if they were silly nicknames from Rhodey or Tony.

They'd danced around the issue plenty of times, but instead of discussing it like real adults they'd be distracted by the next mission to fight HYDRA or AIM or the weekly supervillain wannabe and lose focus on it all over again.

It wasn't moving too fast, exactly – they knew each other well, very well, perhaps even too well, from the times they'd waltzed in and out of each other's heads; they enjoyed each other's company, got along like two peas in a pod; he understood her jokes to an extent, and she was always supporting him in developing his own sense of humor that wasn't tainted by Tony's lewd history; he'd been a great help during those first few months after Sokovia, god only knew if she could have made it without him; she liked helping him figure out who he was, loved making him laugh and hearing his thoughts on everyday things, so mundane to her yet so fascinating to him.

And she loved him, really, if she was being honest with herself; neither of them had ever said it, exactly, but she'd felt the adoration saturating his thoughts every time she laughed or said something stupid, when she smiled and when she flew past him… and perhaps he'd heard it from her too, when his eyes lit up in excitement when he figured out something knew, when his feet slipped on the dance floor and he'd caught himself by floating mid-fall, when he said something so naively profound about the lovely blue orb they lived on that her heart swelled fit to burst.

But.

Marriage was kind of a huge deal, and their strange little romance was unconventional at best, and real love or not, she didn't think she was ready for such a leap-

He finally looked up and caught her eye, and all her doubts were swirling around his head too – she could hear them, clear as day, he didn't even try suppressing them – but his eyes were wide, hopeful, nervous; his face held nothing but sincerity, even though his entire body was tensed and uncertain and very, very afraid.

He was already prepared for a negative answer, but he was taking the plunge anyway.

Her heart squeezed, and – as ridiculous and cliché as it might sound – her fears melted away as quickly as they'd come.

He didn't know a damn thing about this either.

But he was willing to brave the uncertainties.

For her.

Before he could injure himself trying to open the box one-handed, she reached her free hand out – her remaining, melted ice cream floated in the air on a cloud of red magic – and opened the little box, plucking the ring out with delicate fingers.

She examined it for a moment, brought it right up to her eyes, noting that her partner had stopped breathing but not bothering to acknowledge it.

It was pretty, simple, a thin gold band with a small red ruby set on the top, and it sparkled conspicuously; definitely a gift from Tony.

She let her eyes dart back to his, just once, and there was no wide-eyed, pathetic puppy dog look; just warm, serene affection, hardly doing a thing to mask the typhoon of love and anxiety and chaos going on inside his head.

She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.

"You dork," she muttered, and her heart fluttered when he chuckled.

"That makes two of us, Miss Maximoff."

"Oh, shut up! We both know the guy literally made out of sci-fi voodoo stuff is the bigger dork," she said with a fierce nod, and he managed a helpless shrug despite the tension in his shoulders.

She rolled her eyes. "I assume the others are watching us?"

"Most definitely," he agreed.

"Well, they're not invited to the wedding," she decided, and she slipped the ring on her finger, and he surged upwards to press a kiss to her lips so fiercely they actually started floating, and there was a strangled roar as their fellow Avengers wearing ridiculously inventive civilian disguises burst out of the ice cream parlor and surrounded them with cheers, and there were still plenty of things they'd need to work out; eventually.

Not right now, though.

Right now, they could relax, and snuggle, and tell off their idiot teammates for being total stalkers.

Right now, they were happy, and that was all that mattered.

A/N: This one got out of hand really fucking fast what the fuck.
~Persephone