A/N: More fluff before the real angst starts!

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine!

Wanda awoke with a groan and a slight headache. Why did they decide to finish a whole bottle of wine again? She certainly couldn't hold alcohol like she could in her 20s, and Vision had never been much of a drinker. She pressed her palm to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.

The first thing that she heard was a throaty chuckle and then she felt a gentle hand on her bare abdomen.

"Are you feeling okay?" Vision whispered sweetly in her ear.

"I think I drank too much wine," she answered with another groan.

He chuckled again and caressed her lower belly with his thumb. "You know what is a good natural cute for a headache?"

She laughed and reached out to playfully shove his face away from hers. "That's probably a myth too."

"Oh," he responded, and she could practically hear the pout in his voice. "Why are there so many orgasm myths?"

"Because the female orgasm is a myth for some men," she joked. She finally opened her eyes and pulled him in for a good morning kiss. "But not for you. Hi, baby."

"Good morning," he smiled brightly.

She smiled back at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good morning. Are you going to make me breakfast?" She asked with a teasing nip to his chin.

He was quick to teasingly reply. "Can I have you for breakfast?"

She laughed before she hummed and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "I didn't wear you out last night?"

"I have somehow found my second wind."

She dramatically rolled her eyes before she pushed him onto his back and straddled his stomach. "You are a warrior of a man," she stated sarcastically.

He grinned up at her, almost boyishly, as his fingers crept over the prominent bones in her hips. That look made her belly clench and she bit down on her bottom lip as she subtly shifted against his morning erection. She brushed her hands up his abdomen, over his chest, until she finally settled on his shoulders and began to lightly massage them. She wasn't sure what it was about him as of late, but the way that he looked at her just made her want to jump his bones – all of the time. He had this amazing ability to look at her like he hadn't seen her nearly every day for the past ten years.

"I love how hard you get for me," she whispered hoarsely.

"Of course I do," he groaned. "You are so sexy, and for some reason you chose to spend your life with me. I am the luckiest man in the world."

She leaned down to kiss him and her hair fell to tickle his skin. "I'm the lucky one," she murmured against his mouth. "You're such a good man." She kissed him again before he could inevitably argue.

She began to place kisses down his chest and her tongue swirled around his navel. He groaned and tossed his head back as her hand delicately wrapped around him. She had been fully committed to giving him a little individual attention, but she squealed in surprise when he flipped her onto her back and pinned her to the mattress with the weight of his body.

"Vizh," she protested with a giggle.

He ghosted his mouth over her chin and cheeks, and he spoke huskily. "I want to be inside you. Nothing else compares."

She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, and she invitingly wrapped her legs around his hips.

He had the day off and she didn't have to go into the office until two, so they spent the morning like newlyweds. Hot, sweaty sex and sweet, lazy kisses in between sappy, lovesick conversations and whispered I love yous. She even fell back to sleep and he took a long shower. When she rolled out of bed, she pulled on one of his old sweaters, and found him making French toast in his boxers.

"You are making me breakfast!" She declared triumphantly as she wrapped her arms around his midsection from behind.

"I am," he chuckled. "And I'm starving."

She laughed as she pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. "You earned it."

He grinned victoriously to himself as he flipped the bread in the pan with the spatula he was holding. Even happily married, he took a great deal of pride in being able to satisfy her in the bedroom. "Well, I've been trying to bring my A game."

She laughed and kissed his skin again. "We've talked about you trying to use sports references, babe. It doesn't work."

He rolled his eyes and shooed her away. "Go sit at the table and wait for your breakfast," he muttered.

With a smirk, she did as she was told. She sat at the kitchen table and thanked him with a kiss when he brought her a plate of French toast, bacon, and fruit. He fetched two cups of coffee before he sat down across from her.

"When is your appointment?" She asked conversationally.

"Noon," he answered.

It was time for his yearly physical, nothing scary or alarming, simply routine, but he was not fond of going to the doctor. His good friend Tony had generously set him up with his personal physician so he knew that he was seeing the best of the best. However, a few common nerves remained.

"Maybe I'll take you out for ice cream afterwards," his wife teased.

"Ha ha ha," he responded dryly, "very funny."

She grinned wickedly and nudged him with her foot under the table. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know you don't like the doctor."

She continued to tease him good-naturedly as they finished their breakfast. She set to work on the dishes while he went to the bedroom to get dressed for the day. He emerged in khakis and a blue cashmere sweater that he knew was a favourite of hers.

Wanda had moved to curl up on the couch in the living room. She was watching the news with a fresh mug of coffee in her hands. He approached her and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "I'm going to head out now," he murmured quietly.

She grabbed his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Don't be worried. It's a regular appointment. You'll be fine."

He smiled in thanks. "Have a good day. I love you."

"I love you too," she answered as she pulled him down for a proper kiss. "Maybe if you're brave I'll wear that nightgown tonight that you're so fond of."

His eyes widened in intrigue as his voice dropped an octave. "Which one?"

She slowly ran her hand down his chest. "The red, skimpy one."

"I do like that one," he practically growled.

"I know," she laughed, "but right now you have to go." She gently shoved him away and he took a step backwards with an easygoing smile. "Bye, baby."

He left the house with a grin and headed straight to the doctor's office. He had met Dr. Strange once before so their introduction wasn't terribly awkward and they didn't force small talk. Dr. Strange was very dry and to the point. Vision appreciated his professionalism and the briskness of the visit.

After taking his vitals and performing the more uncomfortable parts of the exam, Vision redressed as Dr. Strange looked over his chart.

"You don't smoke, you have a healthy diet, you exercise regularly. Looks and sounds like you're in tip top shape. Do you have any questions for me?"

Vision shyly looked away, his focus on straightening his watch, as he pushed the nagging topic to the forefront of his mind. "My wife and I are trying to get pregnant."

"And how long have you been trying to conceive?" He asked with his eyes still on his clipboard.

The blonde replied nervously. "We've been having sex without protection for about a year and a half."

He and Wanda had never stopped to think about the timeline so it never weighed on them. They were both busy with work and during that time he had trained for a marathon, she had helped her brother find and settle into a new apartment, and they had taken a vacation to Scotland. It had never registered as a problem to them, but he saw the way Dr. Strange looked up at him with concerned eyes and a twitch in his jaw.

"Have you seen a specialist?" He questioned after a moment.

Vision slowly shook his head. A fertility specialist? Despite his knowledge, the thought had never crossed his mind.

"I'm going to give you a referral for both you and your wife." He quickly scribbled something on a notepad and handed it to Vision. "I'll push it to the front of the line." Vision just nodded and tucked the paper in his pocket. "It's probably nothing," Strange added after a pause.

The flippant comment did absolutely nothing to reassure Vision. He left the office with a frown and what felt like a lead weight in his front pocket.

When he returned home, Wanda was quick to sense his unease. She did not ask him about it until after they had eaten supper and settled on the sofa to watch a movie. She was curled into his side with his arm around her shoulders. He was absentmindedly playing with her hair, but she could feel the tension in his body and he had been exceptionally quiet all evening. He hadn't mentioned his doctor's appointment once.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly as she began to stroke his chest.

She heard him take a deep breath before he answered. "What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong. I can tell. I can always tell."

He smiled to himself as he kissed the top of her head. His intuitive wife. "Dr. Strange gave me a referral today," he revealed.

"For what?" She asked nervously, her adrenaline naturally spiking.

He took another deep breath and shifted beneath her. "A fertility specialist."

She sat up so that she could fully face him and she placed both of her hands on his chest. She knew that she needed to nip this train of thought in the bud before it really took off. "Oh, honey," she spoke quickly and confidently. "It's probably just a precaution. Doctors like to get a jump on these things." She ran her hands down his arms to grasp his hands as she asked, "Are you worried?"

He didn't speak, but he nodded with a small frown.

She climbed into his lap and pressed their foreheads together as she squeezed his hands. "Vizh," she whispered.

"I don't know my medical history," he murmured with his eyes closed. "I could have a genetic disorder. I could be a carrier. I could—"

"Stop," she said firmly. He pursed his lips and remained quiet. "Don't jump to conclusions. Don't overthink this," she implored. She released his hands and moved to cup his face, and then she worked her fingers through his short, fine hair. "Until we have reason to believe otherwise, let's think about this the old-fashioned way."

He arched an eyebrow. "The old-fashioned way?"

She nodded as she climbed out of his lap and stood between his legs. She offered him a hand with a smile. "Take me to bed and make love to me."

Vision hesitated for the briefest moment before he got to his feet and swept her into his arms, bridal style. God he loved her. She knew just how to talk him off one of his intellectual and emotional ledges. He carried her to their bedroom and they practically pawed at each other to remove clothing. The worries of his medical history were far from his mind as they tumbled onto the bed in just their underwear.

He kissed her neck with a groan as he peeled her panties down her legs. As he spooned her from behind, she reached around and grabbed the hair at the base of his neck. She could feel him squirming out of his boxer shorts and she was more than ready to end the foreplay.

"Vizh," she whined, "stop teasing."

He grinned as he trailed his fingers along the underside of her breasts. "Tell me you love me," he begged. He bucked his hips against her backside and her hand tightened in his hair.

She turned her head and guided him into a sloppy kiss. "I love you, Vision," she whispered. "I'm yours. Please fuck me."

He wasn't entirely sure why, but he needed that small, slightly possessive, reassurance tonight. He needed to hear that she loved him, and wanted him, only him. That she had chosen him. Him, with his lanky frame, awkward conversational skills, and complicated background, over all the other men that had vied for her attention.

He kissed her firmly as his fingers moulded around her hip and he pushed into her. He would never really get used to this. Ten years and being inside of her still left him a tad breathless. She was so gorgeous. He nipped at her shoulder while his hand dropped between her legs. She cried out in response and demandingly rocked against him. She had always been a passionate, impatient lover, and it had always driven him mad. He pressed his mouth to her ear and shushed her with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

She whimpered his name and grasped the wrist of his hand that was playing with her clit in the most delicious, frustrating way. Her orgasm took her by surprise and she could feel him smugly grinning against the back of her shoulder.

"Shut up," she panted.

He chuckled and she felt the vibration from his chest throughout her entire body. "I didn't say anything, love."

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to fight back when he shifted her onto her stomach and set the kind of pace that she begged for. She gripped the bedsheets beneath her and moaned into the nearby pillow.

He pushed her hair to the side and dipped his head so that he could kiss the back of her neck and along her shoulders. "Are you okay?" He asked tenderly.

He was also so caring and considerate, even when he was trying to be a little rough. "I'm fantastic," she groaned. "You know I love this." She could feel him so deep inside of her that it made her toes curl. "You feel so good."

She climaxed once more and his hips stilled against hers, with both of his hands on her lower back. He leaned forward to run his tongue along her spine. He felt her shiver, and her back arched deliciously, so he began to move again. She started to moan and his thrusts eventually shortened before he came inside of her.

They settled, breathless, on the bed, and he ran a hand slowly through her long hair as he watched her eyes flutter closed. She was still curled up on her stomach so he lay on his side as close to her as he could get. All that he wanted in these small moments of intimacy was skin on skin contact.

"Love you," he murmured before he kissed her hair.

She sleepily returned his sentiment and he watched her fall asleep with a contented smile on his face. He brought the sheets up to cover her and he watched her for what felt like hours. When she didn't have nightmares, she slept so peacefully, with not even a wrinkle in her brow.

Although he felt loved, wanted, needed, reassured, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that even in the safety of their quiet, dark bedroom, something was terribly wrong.