Fire and Smoke - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Chapter 8

I stay leaning heavily against the wall, blocking Maximoff's exit as she stays in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen counter. Our knives are still raised towards each other as we stare at the other, waiting for them to make a move. Maximoff is still smirking, but it seems like she's struggling to keep up the charade as she clutches her stomach, her face draining of color. I furrow my brows and my eyes travel down to where her hand is pressing against the table cloth she still has wrapped around her midline. I lower my knife slowly as I see the fresh blood starting to stain the cloth, creating a juxtaposition with the color of her hair.

I very slowly and deliberately, keeping my eyes fixed on Maximoff's, drop the knife onto the floor next to my feet. My ribs protest as I straighten up, showing her my now empty hand. Her smile drops, and she thankfully places the knife down on the counter as she exhales, leaning onto it even further, closing her eyes.

"You need to lie down." I tell her.

"I'm fine." She says through gritted teeth, her accent now creeping back.

Her eyes remain closed, and she makes no move to try to escape, so I slowly inch towards her back into the cabin. She grimaces and opens her eyes, following my moves. I keep my hand out in front of me, as if I am approaching a wild horse that could spook at any moment. She doesn't, just keeps watching me with wide, green eyes. Now that I'm closer, I can tell how forcefully she's breathing. When I'm just an arm's length away from her, I stop.

"I'm going to help you onto the couch, ok?" I ask her, not quite sure how that is going to work in practicality with my one functioning arm and cracked ribs.

She looks me up and down quickly, looks like she's about to retort, but finally seems to accept my offer, nodding with closed eyes. I nod back and place myself next to her, keeping her on the side of my right arm.

"I'm going to put my arm around your waist, and you can use me as a crutch, alright? We're just going to walk around the table and to the couch, it's not far." I speak as I look over at her. She nods again, eyes closed, furrowing her brow.

I carefully sneak my arm around her and take a hold of her waist, careful as to not come close to her wound. The moment she feels my arm she leans over on me, still clutching herself. A small whimper escapes my lips as my ribs groan in protest and her eyes flutter open and she looks at me, her eyes searching mine.

"You ok?" She asks me.

"Yes." I lie, at which she looks unconvinced. "Let's get this show on the road." I say before she has the time to say anything, to which she lets out a soft chuckle, before softly letting out a word I recognize as a curse word in Sokovian.

"This is going to go fine." I reassure her and myself, and I start moving, feeling her follow.

We shuffle our way across the cabin and by the time we've made it to the couch, all color has drained off of Maximoff's face and I feel like puking from the pain.

"Careful." I warn her as she slowly sinks down onto the old, grey sofa. She gives me a look and I give her a small shrug.

Once she's on the couch I help her lift her legs up so that she's spread out across it. I slowly sink down on my knees next to her, and we both take a moment, catching our breaths as if we've just done the most exhaustive task. Once I've managed to catch my breath, I return my attention to Maximoff. I have no idea what S.W.O.R.D. and the FBI are planning, but I hope they make up their minds soon on how to proceed, I don't know how long I can keep Maximoff alive without any medical supplies, and I for one would kill for some Tylenol.

"Bathroom." Maximoff suddenly says.

"Huh?"

"Bathroom." She repeats, smiling weakly. "Medical supplies."