( he knows when she gets back. it's not about the jingle of keys, the click of the lock, or even the sound of her movements. hearing her isn't quite hearing at all, it's more awareness — presence and space being taken up by something that wasn't there before, someone that isn't him, but not in that way.
the walls in the apartment are thicker than the paper thin walls (and floors and ceilings) that'd made up the motel, the ones where his neighbour just needed to go from bedroom to bathroom and the creak of door hinges would wake him; or one of his other neighbours would run the taps and it'd sound close enough to be from his room. but though the sanctum may be better, the walls are still thin enough that he can hear her move from lounge to kitchen, hear the click of plastic as she swaps out a cassette, the thunk of the button before the music starts up.
for a moment, then two, then three, then four, he just listens. he doesn't recognise the music, but it sounds like something he might've listened to at one point. not necessarily by choice, it's a bit too melodramatic for that, but something someone else might've put on and he'd have been too lazy to turn off. he notices, too, that she doesn't sing along.
(what he hasn't noticed is his stuff on the sofa, left in a neat pile.)
when he leaves his room, it's with quiet, sock-clad footsteps. he stands in the doorway of the kitchen, attention split between her and the music. )
( buying cassette tapes is something of a fun activity, especially when picking tapes out from a random pile with no labels nor list of songs. maybe that's why they're just worth one joolie. she likes this tape in particular because of the synth sounds; not quite like the rave those many months ago, but close enough.
she puts away the new (old) set of silverware into the drawer, putting away from dishes and glasses up on the cupboard. she picks out a piece of paper, raising her hand out to him. )
The only star stickers I found. ( wanda spent some time during the quiet in the store to put all the stickers from a different collection altogether onto one page. some things are clearly not stars, but, eh— ) Unless you can create more?
( the cassette continues to play, and david moves on to ignoring it. music's never been easy for him, tones and sounds fighting against the rest of the noise in his head to make everything worse. it's not everything, of course — there's music he likes, music he'd actively choose to listen to, but there's a lot that just grates. this, fortunately, isn't that. that, though, is why he's more selective when it comes to the whole cassettes for sale thing.
his attention, then, is more on the (kind of questionable) sheet of stickers she's come home with. he eyes them, the corners of his mouth quirking momentarily. some of them are stars; very few of them are the sort of stars he'd been envisioning. could he make more? maybe. that'd be cheating though.
he steps forward into the kitchen to pluck the sheet of stickers from her. he mirrors her smile, before turning to the fridge and pinning the sheet with a magnet. it's square, and the photograph held underneath faded, dull plastic is of a field that certainly isn't panorama; the text overlay is, fortunately, blurred and almost unreadable unless squinting. (don't squint.) )
I told you, I don't cheat.
( they'd never quite settled on that, though, had they? )
( no, they had not quite settled on that, and it's starting to become something of an inside joke: either none of them cheat or the both of them cheat, or one will cheat when the other doesn't. wanda shrugs; guess her quest for more star stickers will continue. there are other stores she could try out.
making space on the counter proper, tossing her rucksack on the couch, wanda brings the bowl with the batter closer to herself and uses a spoon to stir it. mix it up some more. left hand around the curve of the bowl, it's still kind of fridge-cold. )
Just need it to warm up a bit, and then we connect the waffle-maker. Can you get the cooking spray? ( she motions with a tilt of her chin ) Cupboard.
( he's tall enough, he can reach it (not that wanda couldn't, using her telekinesis or sheer will alone). a ploy, surely, so that not only can he find the cooking spray, but also note the three boxes of cereal she managed to find; blue, like the image he had shown her, but without any familiar brand name. definitely not frosted flakes, but there's a lot of sugar on them, and the picture on the front depicts cut strawberries and the rolled oats. should he inspect it, he'll find: a tiger. her best effort yet. on all three of them!
also, the boxes seem to be opened already.
casually, though he'll definitely be able to tell that it's anything but casual, )
( she explains what she's doing like, at any point, this is going to be a situation where it's david bothering to prepare the batter. it's not. still, he does as directed when she requests he get the cooking spray, turning to the cupboard and—
three boxes of blue cereal. the blue's not quite right, and david hasn't paid enough attention to the nutrition label of frosted flakes to know how these match up other than thanks to wanda's assertion about the eleven grams of sugar. there's a quiet tap of the bottle of cooking spray hitting the counter, quickly followed by the sound of cardboard doing exactly the same thing.
at the sight of the tiger, he laughs. )
What were they, buy two, get one free? ( a sidelong glance. ) You enjoy this.
( three is a pretty random number to get. why not even it out to four? wanda hadn't put too much thought to it, and it wasn't a 'but two, get one free' deal, either. she keeps mixing for a few more seconds, until she figures it's about enough. )
I don't know what you're talking about. All you asked for was cereal, so—
( she had to make sure it was worthy of the 'frosted flakes' status. even if it isn't. wanda pushes bowl and cooking spray aside, going around him on the counter to busy herself with the waffle maker.
he might well be able to tell, through this connection between them (or maybe only due to wanda's general eagerness for him to notice it) that there's more to the cardboard boxes. there's a hand-drawn tiger on them, yes, but there's also a flimsy effort in closing up the top lids. inside, the plastic bag sealing the cereal is untampered with, but there's something else within the box. would it be better if he just got the surprise when he served himself cereal, whenever? sure, but.
with the waffle maker plugged in, it seems like it'll bring itself up to the heat it needs to be before adding the batter. another non-casual casual statement, )
You could check the inside to make sure it's what you asked for.
( very subtle. inside one of the boxes, there's a patch, the kind one irons onto their clothes or a rucksack. the other two contain slightly more exciting finds, such as a wooden toy whistle and a pinball toy game. she really went into some obscure store for these. whether he sees one or all, wanda's going to feel a bit smug about it, though anticipating a favorable response from him. i'm not 10, yes, but it's not about her trying to make him feel like a child. )
—I thought it should be the whole experience.
(i got you prizes already, she had also said. wanda is bad at surprises. )
( the look he shoots her is one of light incredulity when she says she doesn't know what he's talking about, the pretence of it all. it may not even be that she's as bad at pretending as she seems — it's clear that she's put effort into this, even if his request for frosted flakes hadn't been as serious as to warrant all this, and so the spillover is almost expected, regardless of the connection between the two of them.
from him, there's a low bubble of curiosity and excitement, edged with something a little like affection. he could tell her that he doesn't need to check the contents of the boxes, that he trusts her. that wouldn't be fair, though, so—
he presses the sides of one of the boxes, the loosely closed opening with a subtle pop of cardboard. half on top of plastic, half slipped down the side of the box is a ridiculous game that definitely looks like it originally came from something like this, even if wanda's had to pull together her own homebrew variation.
there's a crinkle of plastic from the wrapping as he pulls the toy out, and that's followed by a thunk as he pulls down the lever. he doesn't wait to see where the balls land, instead turning round to lean back against the counter and— )
( wanda expects him to go ahead with it, check the contents of the box regardless. she's worrying herself with the waffle maker as it heats up, but her attention, really, is on him as he pops open one of the boxes and as he finds the pinball toy.
he barely spends any time at all with it, but for the pulling down of the lever, before he's turning back to her. )
Yes, I know. ( there's a shrug, nonchalant. even with the question, his curiosity, excitement, edged with affection, is not lost on her. reaching behind him, over the counter, she draws the bowl with the batter and the cooking spray closer to herself with a gentle dance of her fingers. ) But I wanted to.
( it's as simple as that, really.
she sprays the waffle maker, and scoops a ladle of the batter on one of the quadrants. frowning, she isn't sure if it's too much or too little, but she'll just continue as she was, adding more onto the quadrants before closing it and letting it cook.
wanda turns to him as she waits, hands on the edge of the counter. )
I didn't think I needed a reason to be nice to you. But — if it's silly and you're too old for it, I can keep the other toys for myself. ( she motions at the one he holds ) I think that's the best one, though.
(he'll come back to it. it's still in his hand, the balls finishing their imprecise, scattered fall from top to bottom, some collecting in the plastic semi-circles, others (most of them) falling to the bottom. it's childish, simple in a way that david hasn't experienced in a while, but not in a condescending way. it's — just silly.
her I wanted to is as much an answer as it is a non-answer; they're still in the learning phase, the getting to know each other stage of things — what they like, what they dislike, what rubs them the wrong way, what upsets them even if they don't acknowledge it. it doesn't escape david that he has no real awareness of how to reciprocate the gesture, and though he doesn't think it in any observable way, hhe does make a note to think of how to.
the waffle maker is old enough that heat emanates from it, warming the surrounding area subtly but noticeably, and david waits until she's finished pouring batter and is satisfied before moving, before continuing. )
Are you calling me old? ( he knows she's not. it's uttered with a lilt of a smile and a lean towards her, the plastic of the pinball toy banging momentarily against the countertop.
( wanda leans back from the counter. he knows she's not, calling him old, but he is the one who is constantly stating that he isn't a kid—don't treat me like one—so it's good knowing that this lands not on the condescending side of things. she returns his smile, glancing down at the toy as the balls scatter again, after being banged against the countertop. )
I did.
( she takes it from his hand, moving it about and having the balls return to their starting position. then, she pulls the lever— watches the little metal balls go. one lands on the 700 slot, atop the treasure, the others sinking down to the bottom. )
Not as a toy in a cereal box, but as something that we could buy at a fair or market. ( she hands it back over to him, but keeps her hold on the toy. ) I think it's a sweet idea for kids. Toys in food.
( sometimes, sentimentality, over the lack of a real childhood, seeing instead what it's like on american sitcoms and feeling some twisted way about it, even if it was an escape for her. it's hard for her to describe, but david just casually mentioning it or simply living in this small moment in time where he gets to be excited about her attempt at replicating it makes her feel like she's living that fantasy a bit, and it's nice.
as far as she is concerned, he doesn't need to reciprocate. this feeling is enough.
ultimately, wanda wraps her hand around david's, and she lets him have the toy. letting go, her attention returns to the waffle maker, opening it up slowly to see if the waffles are sticking to the top part— )
I hope you find the other ones fun whenever you open them.
( david had a very real, traditional, expected childhood up to a certain point — toys and experiences, trips, sports — and then it changed. there are certain things he considers to be usual, common, that through virtue of getting to know wanda, he's discovering aren't. discovering that, while lucky isn't necessarily the word, and neither is fortunate, there's an element of both to it all. he might be many things, and though there's an element of obliviousness to it, it's not what he's predisposed towards being.
so while he thinks that this, the waffle maker and the cereal and the toys, are all ostensibly for him, there's a part of it that's for wanda, too. he'd said she's enjoying this and she is, but that's not all it is. he doesn't know the extent of it, hasn't been able to collect enough of the puzzle pieces to form a picture that makes sense, but he thinks he has enough of one to at least understand the shape of it.
his gaze doesn't leave hers, not when she places the toy back in his grip, not when she wraps her hand around his. it only shifts when she pulls away to check on the waffles; his gaze follows, to where steam wafts and he tries to work out from his vantage point (as it were) if the waffles are cooked. he has no real idea. )
One at a time, ( he answers. ) It's not Christmas. I'm not going to open them all at once. ( a beat and a glance, lightly curious, assessing. ) There were some you had to collect.
(one at a time, and wanda hopes that he lets her know when he finds them. there were some you had to collect gives her an idea, but maybe for later, when she has more time to make something of it. )
Hannukah.
( said softly; her attention doesn't last long on the matter, even if she is just sharing with him another point of difference between them, this constant back-and-forth. grabbing a fork, she stabs it lightly into one of the waffles, solid, and wanda ushers him to get her a plate. plate on the side, as asked, she places the four (done) waffles on it. the first ones are never perfect, and she definitely could have put more of the mix and left it to cook for a bit longer. )
Mm... ( she breaks a slice off, warm still, and uses the fork to offer it to him. ) You're the expert.
( whether they're done or not, wanda will proceed to spray the waffle maker again to scoop some more. but, before she does, she pulls away from the counter and tugs at david to get closer to the waffle-making process. )
Are you going to eat a lot? I'll have—four, maybe. I found some fruit we can have with them.
( of the frozen variety, which has been sitting in the fridge to thaw since the afternoon. she'll chop, while he mans the waffle maker. )
( there's a moment when she says hannukah that his expression flickers, a once to her and then away and then back again that says he's heard her, even if he doesn't say anything. it clarifies her preference not to eat pork, even if david had drawn his own conclusions, even if she'd said habit about the matter.
he grabs a plate, as indicated, an easy kind of not-conversation bookended by her handing him a fork with some manner of cooked waffle on the end. his opinion is ultimately favourable, regardless of how she doesn't stop to wait to hear it before she's tugging him towards her and the waffle maker. his initial answer, then, is muffled, a little awkward, right up until she asks him if he's going to eat a lot and—
how do you answer that? objectively speaking. david likes waffles. he can and will eat them. he's reasonably hungry, as far as these things go. does this mean he'll eat a lot? maybe. he hasn't thought about it. four waffles is a reasonable starting point. (how much will the batter even make? he doesn't know.) he's partway through moving to scoop a spoonful into the waffle maker when she tells him not too much and he shoots her a glance, quizzical and affronted.
( at the quizzical and affronted glance, accompanied with a factual statement, wanda raises her hands in a 'my bad' gesture. eyebrows arch in amusement as she tries not to laugh. )
Oh, okay, I guess.
( she was just wanting him to be mindful that it wouldn't be so much of the batter that it would spill over once he closed the lid of the waffle maker. this, she keeps to herself, and will let him just figure it out. maybe he does know better, but...
wanda goes to the fridge and pulls out the bowl with thawed berries: strawberries and blueberries. she will make her way back to the counter, on the other end of the waffle-making, and start sorting out the fruit and chopping the bigger strawberries in half.
( she's right, of course. david is not, in any capacity, an expert on any of this. he might have helped his mom out a handful of times as a child, him solo, or him and amy, but not at any point when he'd been old enough for it to be something that stuck in terms of what should be done and what shouldn't.
he's aware of her watching him, even after she's grabbed the bowl of berries, even after she should be spending her time cutting them up into pieces. the silence, the lack of noise from knife against chopping board is enough to earn a glance up from david, over at her just as he closes the waffle maker. there is, this time (and perhaps for this time only), an adequate amount of batter in the waffle maker.
he eyes her, feigned challenge in the set of his expression and the raise of his eyebrows. an unasked well? as he leans over to, without asking, steal a strawberry. )
( she laughs, in an answer to his well? at the theft of a strawberry, wanda shoves him lightly; keep to your station, buddy. it's part of the learning from each other, really. wanda had no way of knowing whether he is good in the kitchen or not (she's still leaning on no), but he just might be capable enough to tackle some tasks. some things they happen to ask point blank; other things, they really just wait to envision.
(david is right. this all—the waffles, the cereal, the toys, stars—may be because of him, but this is just as fun and enriching for her. he makes it easy, strangely enough.)
wanda will continue chopping the bigger strawberries, before she has a bowlful of the fruit. this, along with mismatched plates and cutlery, she'll bring to the coffee table by the couch. she's still not convinced she wants it there (mostly because wanda wants to find a television), but it'll do. why have breakfast for dinner at the table, proper? they can eat while sitting on the floor like proper adults. when she returns to the kitchen to open up the fridge (stealing a glance to see how waffle making is going—) and take the syrup out, she's reminded, )
I brought your wine up from the car. Weren't you going to finish it?
( he doesn't have to, but it doesn't help how she phrases it. these back-and-forth challenges. wanda leans lightly on the fridge door, reaching over with a hand to poke at his back with her fingers, really just barely managing to scratch feebly at the cotton of his shirt (one, to get his attention; two, so he turns and she can see how he's doing with the waffles). )
( he huffs when she retaliates to his theft, a soft exhale through his nose. her reaction is about what he'd been expecting, and so for now, he does nothing in return, just refocuses on the waffles. this second batch cooks quicker and more consistently than the first, not through anything david does or has done, but simply because the heating element's had time to be at temperature for longer.
he plates them like the others, before his attention slides between the rest of the batter and the waffle maker, internally debating on how many waffles he's willing to eat in one sitting. the thought's there in his expression, the momentary scrunch of his mouth, before he decides that yeah, another batch would be good. even if they (he) don't eat all of them today, whatever's left over can be reheated in the morning.
this time, though, he's a touch overzealous with the batter, and he mutters a quiet fuck when it spills over as he closes the waffle maker, just in time for wanda to poke him. he stiffens, just momentarily, and then turns.
(he hadn't missed the implied challenge in her question about the wine, either.)
his mouth quirks and he concedes, ) Guess I'm having wine with my waffles. I'd offer you some, but—. ( he waves a hand. you don't like it.)
( at the sight of the spilt batter over the cooking surface, wanda snorts but makes no further comment on it. told you so hangs in the air, but not in any way that wanda is trying to make him feel bad about it. spilt batter is no big deal; he can figure it out. )
You could still have offered.
( she returns to the fridge, bringing out the bottle with what's left of the wine. wanda has no real desire to have wine for a third night in a row. out comes also a carton of milk along with the syrup. the fridge door is closed, the items placed on the table, and she returns to his side to see how bad the spill is (disguised in looking for glasses—two teacups, actually).
not bad, the look she gives him, teasing.
it's only but a few minutes later that they are done with the making of waffles and can sit to eat. wanda sits on her knees, dishing out a few waffles for herself and some fruit, her cup already filled with milk, thanks. sitting down cross-legged on the carpet proper, she uses her telekinesis to serve him what's left of the wine—a sparkly, red glow enveloping around the bottle as it moves about, fingers curling in the air. )
The official roommate welcome.
( red glow gone, the bottle back on the table, wanda raises her cup of milk over towards him. the music from the cassette she had chosen continues, a little drowned out in the background, cozy. this otherwise warm sentiment gets overlapped by a cheeky comment, )
May there be less spills on the waffle maker in the future.
( he could have, but they both know she's only saying that to make a point. and so the remark goes ignored, even as wanda spends her time getting first one thing from the fridge, and then a second, and then the syrup. his attention half shifts with the sound of each hitting the coffee table, and then more fully when wanda reappears and gives him a look that he still doesn't respond to.
not verbally, anyway.
a scrunch of a face, an expression that amounts, essentially, to shut up, and then they're on the floor. he starts to divide his waffles into vague, rough pieces when wanda uses her powers to pour his teacup of wine. it's fascinating, the way that it differs from what he does, how his appears look (or don't, as it were). the red, the precision. he reaches out with a hand to pluck the cup away from the tendrils, mouth quirking in a lopsided smile as she says official roommate welcome, before— )
—Spills are how you know it's being used. Do you want it to just sit and become decoration?
( said after he returns her loose gesture of cheers and has opted to nestle the teacup on the carpet next to him. he's in no hurry to drink it, certainly not interested in necking it in one go like wanda had the night previous.
a forkful of waffle punctuated by a flicker of thought and— ) —What's your favourite food?
( said with a bit of a playful tone of exasperation. no need to argue about the state of the waffle maker; spills will definitely continue to happen, especially if they do more home cooked waffles. for now, there's the pleasant comfort that david seems eager to tuck in to eating the waffles. he divides his own in vague, rough pieces, while wanda cuts along the lines of the squares.
it's also cozier still, the whole sharing a meal experience. it means a lot to wanda, even if she doesn't express it—not wanting this to be an unfair expectation of their arrangement as roommates. they had breakfast together, yes, and now dinner, but—
it's fine either way.
she stretches her legs under the table at the question, knee bumping against one of the legs of the table, socked feet against the carpet. she's halfway through chewing, so, eager to respond, she puts a hand over her mouth, )
Favorite? ( a beat, thinking, eyes looking up at the ceiling. ) I guess... cholent?
( preposterous, that she doesn't even have a favorite food that she can name quickly in a beat. )
Chicken paprikash, if I wanted spicy. Krofne, for something sweet.
( figures that none of these could be normal names that david (likely) recognizes. she shrugs. )
( sharing a meal is neither here nor there for david. it's one of those things that he can enjoy, does when the company's right, but it's not necessarily important except for when it's made to be important, or when he wants company. still, even if wanda does make a point of sharing what it means to her, even if she doesn't want that to be known, there's still a sliver of it. a hint, a quiet, subtle indication, and david—
—decides he won't ignore it.
(not feeling alone is important. not every night, or even every day, certainly, but— often enough.)
it doesn't escape him that she doesn't have an easy, immediate answer for his question; it doesn't escape him, either, that he doesn't know the foods she mentions. his upbringing hadn't been like that, and he hadn't travelled, so cholent. krofne. they're foreign in a way he can't begin to guess at, not without digging into wanda's mind which he wouldn't be opposed to if he knew wanda wouldn't know. but, because she would — well. there's a library. wanda had mentioned it. )
—We'll need a cooking thermometer to make jams. ( he knows that much. )
( it could be as easy as asking her what any of those foods that he doesn't recognize actually are, but it seems that david enjoys employing the most difficult ways to concert understanding. she uses her fork to take a four-squares piece from her waffles, stopping only when he mentions that they'll need a cooking thermometer to make jams.
we'll need.
it's not that they haven't been without their moments of suggesting they do one thing for the benefit of the other, or to do things together, in tandem. but — it's new, ultimately, this friend-whatever-it-is-ship; david isn't selfish, per se, but.
wanda tries her best to hide that it pleases her, him saying something like that, in a childish sort of way. same as with the stars, with the stickers, the breaking into the thrift store late at night. not feeling alone. )
We could pick up fruits in Acreage.
( she busies herself with these fruits, on the table, fork on a strawberry, bringing it closer to her plate. she also does not succeed in keeping her face from showing how she feels. )
We can take the train. A lot more convenient than driving the distance.
( he could ask, and perhaps he would if the circumstances were slightly different, if wanda hadn't taken it upon herself to find a book about the stars, if she hadn't thought of him and took them on a detour to get a waffle maker. asking is easy and, for now, that's why he doesn't do it. it's the surprise of it all.
he doesn't think there's anything different or special or unique about his use of we, and so while wanda's happiness over it isn't wholly missed, neither does david read into it. it's easy to assume that it's surface-level, that there's nothing deeper to it than someone being given a loose promise of something that they like — even if it doesn't escape david that there's a chance she mentioned jams only because they're something david would know.
—not that any of that stops the shift in wanda's expression, even as she semi-attempts to hide it by busying herself with fruit.
(he busies himself with waffle—.)
he half-pauses chewing, prepared to say something about how the train's unnecessary, too, but that's not quite true here, and so he continues chewing a moment later. train it is. it's not about convenience, per se, it's about preference, and he's not driving all that way. )
The countryside. ( a statement as much as it is a question; he still hasn't been. ) We can make a trip out of it. ( stargazing. fruit picking. whatever. )
( get a grip, david; it's not all about you. wanda does actually like fruit jams a lot for their multiple, potential uses. getting to make it fresh is just a plus when it comes to the kinds of foods one can get here. )
Hm— ( yes, the countryside. she picks up her teacup and takes a sip. ) It takes about six hours to get there from here, so. ( a shrug; making a trip out of it would be the way. it's tedious, she knows, especially considering how david will feel about things that aren't engaging, but the other option is several days by car. ) Make it a few days, until you've got your fill of the countryside.
( train tickets are also expensive. silvia might be able to sponsor one or two, but... it's definitely going to need some saving and planning ahead of time. or a little crime (she thinks) to make it possible. all these logistics, it reminds her—
she points at him with the hand that holds her cup. )
You get tired when you teleport, don't you? Or use your powers for too long?
( an observation she had made for herself the previous day. sure, maybe it's because of his horrible sleeping habits (not that wanda knows about that at this point), but what he mentioned, too. about this place, maybe it being her. she sets the cup down. )
I've had it happen sometimes. Not — the tired part, specifically. Mostly my powers not working too well.
I shouldn't. ( it's not irritable, but there's a palpable note of displeasure. ) I can't travel as far. If I try to do too much, I get — headaches. ( he doesn't mean just teleportation, but he also doesn't bother to clarify that for the moment. he hasn't tested it, not properly, hasn't tried to find what the exact limits are, how much he can do before it gets too much, if it progresses beyond a headache. he should — will — because it's better to know than to find out at the wrong time, but there'll be a better time for ...experimenting.
her admission that she's had something similar happen suggests it's this place and not a side-effect or whatever of them being together — or, he supposes, it could be both. for her, it could also be that she doesn't fully know her powers yet, and that has an affect. (where's cary when you need him—.) (does he know anyone to ask?) the only person that comes to mind is charles, and that's not a conversation he's willing to have with the guy. it'd open unwanted doors. but he can't be the only scientist—. )
A few hours cross-country should be nothing.
(should be.
he stabs another piece of waffle, chews as he thinks. he glances back to her, abrupt and interested. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2026-04-21 07:13 pm (UTC)the walls in the apartment are thicker than the paper thin walls (and floors and ceilings) that'd made up the motel, the ones where his neighbour just needed to go from bedroom to bathroom and the creak of door hinges would wake him; or one of his other neighbours would run the taps and it'd sound close enough to be from his room. but though the sanctum may be better, the walls are still thin enough that he can hear her move from lounge to kitchen, hear the click of plastic as she swaps out a cassette, the thunk of the button before the music starts up.
for a moment, then two, then three, then four, he just listens. he doesn't recognise the music, but it sounds like something he might've listened to at one point. not necessarily by choice, it's a bit too melodramatic for that, but something someone else might've put on and he'd have been too lazy to turn off. he notices, too, that she doesn't sing along.
(what he hasn't noticed is his stuff on the sofa, left in a neat pile.)
when he leaves his room, it's with quiet, sock-clad footsteps. he stands in the doorway of the kitchen, attention split between her and the music. )
—New Wave?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-21 07:35 pm (UTC)( buying cassette tapes is something of a fun activity, especially when picking tapes out from a random pile with no labels nor list of songs. maybe that's why they're just worth one joolie. she likes this tape in particular because of the synth sounds; not quite like the rave those many months ago, but close enough.
she puts away the new (old) set of silverware into the drawer, putting away from dishes and glasses up on the cupboard. she picks out a piece of paper, raising her hand out to him. )
The only star stickers I found. ( wanda spent some time during the quiet in the store to put all the stickers from a different collection altogether onto one page. some things are clearly not stars, but, eh— ) Unless you can create more?
( a glance, and a smile. )
Want to help me with the waffles?
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Date: 2026-04-21 08:31 pm (UTC)his attention, then, is more on the (kind of questionable) sheet of stickers she's come home with. he eyes them, the corners of his mouth quirking momentarily. some of them are stars; very few of them are the sort of stars he'd been envisioning. could he make more? maybe. that'd be cheating though.
he steps forward into the kitchen to pluck the sheet of stickers from her. he mirrors her smile, before turning to the fridge and pinning the sheet with a magnet. it's square, and the photograph held underneath faded, dull plastic is of a field that certainly isn't panorama; the text overlay is, fortunately, blurred and almost unreadable unless squinting. (don't squint.) )
I told you, I don't cheat.
( they'd never quite settled on that, though, had they? )
What do you need?
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Date: 2026-04-21 08:51 pm (UTC)( no, they had not quite settled on that, and it's starting to become something of an inside joke: either none of them cheat or the both of them cheat, or one will cheat when the other doesn't. wanda shrugs; guess her quest for more star stickers will continue. there are other stores she could try out.
making space on the counter proper, tossing her rucksack on the couch, wanda brings the bowl with the batter closer to herself and uses a spoon to stir it. mix it up some more. left hand around the curve of the bowl, it's still kind of fridge-cold. )
Just need it to warm up a bit, and then we connect the waffle-maker. Can you get the cooking spray? ( she motions with a tilt of her chin ) Cupboard.
( he's tall enough, he can reach it (not that wanda couldn't, using her telekinesis or sheer will alone). a ploy, surely, so that not only can he find the cooking spray, but also note the three boxes of cereal she managed to find; blue, like the image he had shown her, but without any familiar brand name. definitely not frosted flakes, but there's a lot of sugar on them, and the picture on the front depicts cut strawberries and the rolled oats. should he inspect it, he'll find: a tiger. her best effort yet. on all three of them!
also, the boxes seem to be opened already.
casually, though he'll definitely be able to tell that it's anything but casual, )
Oh, yeah. I found those, too.
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Date: 2026-04-22 09:58 am (UTC)three boxes of blue cereal. the blue's not quite right, and david hasn't paid enough attention to the nutrition label of frosted flakes to know how these match up other than thanks to wanda's assertion about the eleven grams of sugar. there's a quiet tap of the bottle of cooking spray hitting the counter, quickly followed by the sound of cardboard doing exactly the same thing.
at the sight of the tiger, he laughs. )
What were they, buy two, get one free? ( a sidelong glance. ) You enjoy this.
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Date: 2026-04-22 12:11 pm (UTC)I don't know what you're talking about. All you asked for was cereal, so—
( she had to make sure it was worthy of the 'frosted flakes' status. even if it isn't. wanda pushes bowl and cooking spray aside, going around him on the counter to busy herself with the waffle maker.
he might well be able to tell, through this connection between them (or maybe only due to wanda's general eagerness for him to notice it) that there's more to the cardboard boxes. there's a hand-drawn tiger on them, yes, but there's also a flimsy effort in closing up the top lids. inside, the plastic bag sealing the cereal is untampered with, but there's something else within the box. would it be better if he just got the surprise when he served himself cereal, whenever? sure, but.
with the waffle maker plugged in, it seems like it'll bring itself up to the heat it needs to be before adding the batter. another non-casual casual statement, )
You could check the inside to make sure it's what you asked for.
( very subtle. inside one of the boxes, there's a patch, the kind one irons onto their clothes or a rucksack. the other two contain slightly more exciting finds, such as a wooden toy whistle and a pinball toy game. she really went into some obscure store for these. whether he sees one or all, wanda's going to feel a bit smug about it, though anticipating a favorable response from him. i'm not 10, yes, but it's not about her trying to make him feel like a child. )
—I thought it should be the whole experience.
( i got you prizes already, she had also said. wanda is bad at surprises. )
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Date: 2026-04-22 03:02 pm (UTC)from him, there's a low bubble of curiosity and excitement, edged with something a little like affection. he could tell her that he doesn't need to check the contents of the boxes, that he trusts her. that wouldn't be fair, though, so—
he presses the sides of one of the boxes, the loosely closed opening with a subtle pop of cardboard. half on top of plastic, half slipped down the side of the box is a ridiculous game that definitely looks like it originally came from something like this, even if wanda's had to pull together her own homebrew variation.
there's a crinkle of plastic from the wrapping as he pulls the toy out, and that's followed by a thunk as he pulls down the lever. he doesn't wait to see where the balls land, instead turning round to lean back against the counter and— )
You know you didn't have to, right?
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Date: 2026-04-22 03:42 pm (UTC)he barely spends any time at all with it, but for the pulling down of the lever, before he's turning back to her. )
Yes, I know. ( there's a shrug, nonchalant. even with the question, his curiosity, excitement, edged with affection, is not lost on her. reaching behind him, over the counter, she draws the bowl with the batter and the cooking spray closer to herself with a gentle dance of her fingers. ) But I wanted to.
( it's as simple as that, really.
she sprays the waffle maker, and scoops a ladle of the batter on one of the quadrants. frowning, she isn't sure if it's too much or too little, but she'll just continue as she was, adding more onto the quadrants before closing it and letting it cook.
wanda turns to him as she waits, hands on the edge of the counter. )
I didn't think I needed a reason to be nice to you. But — if it's silly and you're too old for it, I can keep the other toys for myself. ( she motions at the one he holds ) I think that's the best one, though.
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Date: 2026-04-22 07:29 pm (UTC)her I wanted to is as much an answer as it is a non-answer; they're still in the learning phase, the getting to know each other stage of things — what they like, what they dislike, what rubs them the wrong way, what upsets them even if they don't acknowledge it. it doesn't escape david that he has no real awareness of how to reciprocate the gesture, and though he doesn't think it in any observable way, hhe does make a note to think of how to.
the waffle maker is old enough that heat emanates from it, warming the surrounding area subtly but noticeably, and david waits until she's finished pouring batter and is satisfied before moving, before continuing. )
Are you calling me old? ( he knows she's not. it's uttered with a lilt of a smile and a lean towards her, the plastic of the pinball toy banging momentarily against the countertop.
a breath of a pause, and then— )
—Did you have these?
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Date: 2026-04-22 08:04 pm (UTC)I did.
( she takes it from his hand, moving it about and having the balls return to their starting position. then, she pulls the lever— watches the little metal balls go. one lands on the 700 slot, atop the treasure, the others sinking down to the bottom. )
Not as a toy in a cereal box, but as something that we could buy at a fair or market. ( she hands it back over to him, but keeps her hold on the toy. ) I think it's a sweet idea for kids. Toys in food.
( sometimes, sentimentality, over the lack of a real childhood, seeing instead what it's like on american sitcoms and feeling some twisted way about it, even if it was an escape for her. it's hard for her to describe, but david just casually mentioning it or simply living in this small moment in time where he gets to be excited about her attempt at replicating it makes her feel like she's living that fantasy a bit, and it's nice.
as far as she is concerned, he doesn't need to reciprocate. this feeling is enough.
ultimately, wanda wraps her hand around david's, and she lets him have the toy. letting go, her attention returns to the waffle maker, opening it up slowly to see if the waffles are sticking to the top part— )
I hope you find the other ones fun whenever you open them.
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Date: 2026-04-22 09:16 pm (UTC)so while he thinks that this, the waffle maker and the cereal and the toys, are all ostensibly for him, there's a part of it that's for wanda, too. he'd said she's enjoying this and she is, but that's not all it is. he doesn't know the extent of it, hasn't been able to collect enough of the puzzle pieces to form a picture that makes sense, but he thinks he has enough of one to at least understand the shape of it.
his gaze doesn't leave hers, not when she places the toy back in his grip, not when she wraps her hand around his. it only shifts when she pulls away to check on the waffles; his gaze follows, to where steam wafts and he tries to work out from his vantage point (as it were) if the waffles are cooked. he has no real idea. )
One at a time, ( he answers. ) It's not Christmas. I'm not going to open them all at once. ( a beat and a glance, lightly curious, assessing. ) There were some you had to collect.
( before an abrupt pivot with, )
—Are the waffles done?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 09:36 pm (UTC)Hannukah.
( said softly; her attention doesn't last long on the matter, even if she is just sharing with him another point of difference between them, this constant back-and-forth. grabbing a fork, she stabs it lightly into one of the waffles, solid, and wanda ushers him to get her a plate. plate on the side, as asked, she places the four (done) waffles on it. the first ones are never perfect, and she definitely could have put more of the mix and left it to cook for a bit longer. )
Mm... ( she breaks a slice off, warm still, and uses the fork to offer it to him. ) You're the expert.
( whether they're done or not, wanda will proceed to spray the waffle maker again to scoop some more. but, before she does, she pulls away from the counter and tugs at david to get closer to the waffle-making process. )
Are you going to eat a lot? I'll have—four, maybe. I found some fruit we can have with them.
( of the frozen variety, which has been sitting in the fridge to thaw since the afternoon. she'll chop, while he mans the waffle maker. )
—don't scoop too much.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 10:12 pm (UTC)he grabs a plate, as indicated, an easy kind of not-conversation bookended by her handing him a fork with some manner of cooked waffle on the end. his opinion is ultimately favourable, regardless of how she doesn't stop to wait to hear it before she's tugging him towards her and the waffle maker. his initial answer, then, is muffled, a little awkward, right up until she asks him if he's going to eat a lot and—
how do you answer that? objectively speaking. david likes waffles. he can and will eat them. he's reasonably hungry, as far as these things go. does this mean he'll eat a lot? maybe. he hasn't thought about it. four waffles is a reasonable starting point. (how much will the batter even make? he doesn't know.) he's partway through moving to scoop a spoonful into the waffle maker when she tells him not too much and he shoots her a glance, quizzical and affronted.
he had been going to ask 'what fruit', but now— )
You just said I was the expert.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 10:25 pm (UTC)Oh, okay, I guess.
( she was just wanting him to be mindful that it wouldn't be so much of the batter that it would spill over once he closed the lid of the waffle maker. this, she keeps to herself, and will let him just figure it out. maybe he does know better, but...
wanda goes to the fridge and pulls out the bowl with thawed berries: strawberries and blueberries. she will make her way back to the counter, on the other end of the waffle-making, and start sorting out the fruit and chopping the bigger strawberries in half.
a glance over at him, at how he's doing— )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 06:00 am (UTC)he's aware of her watching him, even after she's grabbed the bowl of berries, even after she should be spending her time cutting them up into pieces. the silence, the lack of noise from knife against chopping board is enough to earn a glance up from david, over at her just as he closes the waffle maker. there is, this time (and perhaps for this time only), an adequate amount of batter in the waffle maker.
he eyes her, feigned challenge in the set of his expression and the raise of his eyebrows. an unasked well? as he leans over to, without asking, steal a strawberry. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 12:05 pm (UTC)( she laughs, in an answer to his well? at the theft of a strawberry, wanda shoves him lightly; keep to your station, buddy. it's part of the learning from each other, really. wanda had no way of knowing whether he is good in the kitchen or not (she's still leaning on no), but he just might be capable enough to tackle some tasks. some things they happen to ask point blank; other things, they really just wait to envision.
(david is right. this all—the waffles, the cereal, the toys, stars—may be because of him, but this is just as fun and enriching for her. he makes it easy, strangely enough.)
wanda will continue chopping the bigger strawberries, before she has a bowlful of the fruit. this, along with mismatched plates and cutlery, she'll bring to the coffee table by the couch. she's still not convinced she wants it there (mostly because wanda wants to find a television), but it'll do. why have breakfast for dinner at the table, proper? they can eat while sitting on the floor like proper adults. when she returns to the kitchen to open up the fridge (stealing a glance to see how waffle making is going—) and take the syrup out, she's reminded, )
I brought your wine up from the car. Weren't you going to finish it?
( he doesn't have to, but it doesn't help how she phrases it. these back-and-forth challenges. wanda leans lightly on the fridge door, reaching over with a hand to poke at his back with her fingers, really just barely managing to scratch feebly at the cotton of his shirt (one, to get his attention; two, so he turns and she can see how he's doing with the waffles). )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 01:37 pm (UTC)he plates them like the others, before his attention slides between the rest of the batter and the waffle maker, internally debating on how many waffles he's willing to eat in one sitting. the thought's there in his expression, the momentary scrunch of his mouth, before he decides that yeah, another batch would be good. even if they (he) don't eat all of them today, whatever's left over can be reheated in the morning.
this time, though, he's a touch overzealous with the batter, and he mutters a quiet fuck when it spills over as he closes the waffle maker, just in time for wanda to poke him. he stiffens, just momentarily, and then turns.
(he hadn't missed the implied challenge in her question about the wine, either.)
his mouth quirks and he concedes, ) Guess I'm having wine with my waffles. I'd offer you some, but—. ( he waves a hand. you don't like it. )
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Date: 2026-04-23 02:17 pm (UTC)You could still have offered.
( she returns to the fridge, bringing out the bottle with what's left of the wine. wanda has no real desire to have wine for a third night in a row. out comes also a carton of milk along with the syrup. the fridge door is closed, the items placed on the table, and she returns to his side to see how bad the spill is (disguised in looking for glasses—two teacups, actually).
not bad, the look she gives him, teasing.
it's only but a few minutes later that they are done with the making of waffles and can sit to eat. wanda sits on her knees, dishing out a few waffles for herself and some fruit, her cup already filled with milk, thanks. sitting down cross-legged on the carpet proper, she uses her telekinesis to serve him what's left of the wine—a sparkly, red glow enveloping around the bottle as it moves about, fingers curling in the air. )
The official roommate welcome.
( red glow gone, the bottle back on the table, wanda raises her cup of milk over towards him. the music from the cassette she had chosen continues, a little drowned out in the background, cozy. this otherwise warm sentiment gets overlapped by a cheeky comment, )
May there be less spills on the waffle maker in the future.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 08:12 pm (UTC)not verbally, anyway.
a scrunch of a face, an expression that amounts, essentially, to shut up, and then they're on the floor. he starts to divide his waffles into vague, rough pieces when wanda uses her powers to pour his teacup of wine. it's fascinating, the way that it differs from what he does, how his appears look (or don't, as it were). the red, the precision. he reaches out with a hand to pluck the cup away from the tendrils, mouth quirking in a lopsided smile as she says official roommate welcome, before— )
—Spills are how you know it's being used. Do you want it to just sit and become decoration?
( said after he returns her loose gesture of cheers and has opted to nestle the teacup on the carpet next to him. he's in no hurry to drink it, certainly not interested in necking it in one go like wanda had the night previous.
a forkful of waffle punctuated by a flicker of thought and— ) —What's your favourite food?
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Date: 2026-04-23 08:31 pm (UTC)( said with a bit of a playful tone of exasperation. no need to argue about the state of the waffle maker; spills will definitely continue to happen, especially if they do more home cooked waffles. for now, there's the pleasant comfort that david seems eager to tuck in to eating the waffles. he divides his own in vague, rough pieces, while wanda cuts along the lines of the squares.
it's also cozier still, the whole sharing a meal experience. it means a lot to wanda, even if she doesn't express it—not wanting this to be an unfair expectation of their arrangement as roommates. they had breakfast together, yes, and now dinner, but—
it's fine either way.
she stretches her legs under the table at the question, knee bumping against one of the legs of the table, socked feet against the carpet. she's halfway through chewing, so, eager to respond, she puts a hand over her mouth, )
Favorite? ( a beat, thinking, eyes looking up at the ceiling. ) I guess... cholent?
( preposterous, that she doesn't even have a favorite food that she can name quickly in a beat. )
Chicken paprikash, if I wanted spicy. Krofne, for something sweet.
( figures that none of these could be normal names that david (likely) recognizes. she shrugs. )
Fruit jams.
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Date: 2026-04-23 09:02 pm (UTC)—decides he won't ignore it.
(not feeling alone is important.
not every night, or even every day, certainly, but— often enough.)
it doesn't escape him that she doesn't have an easy, immediate answer for his question; it doesn't escape him, either, that he doesn't know the foods she mentions. his upbringing hadn't been like that, and he hadn't travelled, so cholent. krofne. they're foreign in a way he can't begin to guess at, not without digging into wanda's mind which he wouldn't be opposed to if he knew wanda wouldn't know. but, because she would — well. there's a library. wanda had mentioned it. )
—We'll need a cooking thermometer to make jams. ( he knows that much. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 09:21 pm (UTC)we'll need.
it's not that they haven't been without their moments of suggesting they do one thing for the benefit of the other, or to do things together, in tandem. but — it's new, ultimately, this friend-whatever-it-is-ship; david isn't selfish, per se, but.
wanda tries her best to hide that it pleases her, him saying something like that, in a childish sort of way. same as with the stars, with the stickers, the breaking into the thrift store late at night. not feeling alone. )
We could pick up fruits in Acreage.
( she busies herself with these fruits, on the table, fork on a strawberry, bringing it closer to her plate. she also does not succeed in keeping her face from showing how she feels. )
We can take the train. A lot more convenient than driving the distance.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 10:09 pm (UTC)he doesn't think there's anything different or special or unique about his use of we, and so while wanda's happiness over it isn't wholly missed, neither does david read into it. it's easy to assume that it's surface-level, that there's nothing deeper to it than someone being given a loose promise of something that they like — even if it doesn't escape david that there's a chance she mentioned jams only because they're something david would know.
—not that any of that stops the shift in wanda's expression, even as she semi-attempts to hide it by busying herself with fruit.
(he busies himself with waffle—.)
he half-pauses chewing, prepared to say something about how the train's unnecessary, too, but that's not quite true here, and so he continues chewing a moment later. train it is. it's not about convenience, per se, it's about preference, and he's not driving all that way. )
The countryside. ( a statement as much as it is a question; he still hasn't been. ) We can make a trip out of it. ( stargazing. fruit picking. whatever. )
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Date: 2026-04-23 10:48 pm (UTC)Hm— ( yes, the countryside. she picks up her teacup and takes a sip. ) It takes about six hours to get there from here, so. ( a shrug; making a trip out of it would be the way. it's tedious, she knows, especially considering how david will feel about things that aren't engaging, but the other option is several days by car. ) Make it a few days, until you've got your fill of the countryside.
( train tickets are also expensive. silvia might be able to sponsor one or two, but... it's definitely going to need some saving and planning ahead of time. or a little crime (she thinks) to make it possible. all these logistics, it reminds her—
she points at him with the hand that holds her cup. )
You get tired when you teleport, don't you? Or use your powers for too long?
( an observation she had made for herself the previous day. sure, maybe it's because of his horrible sleeping habits (not that wanda knows about that at this point), but what he mentioned, too. about this place, maybe it being her. she sets the cup down. )
I've had it happen sometimes. Not — the tired part, specifically. Mostly my powers not working too well.
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Date: 2026-04-24 06:40 am (UTC)her admission that she's had something similar happen suggests it's this place and not a side-effect or whatever of them being together — or, he supposes, it could be both. for her, it could also be that she doesn't fully know her powers yet, and that has an affect. (where's cary when you need him—.) (does he know anyone to ask?) the only person that comes to mind is charles, and that's not a conversation he's willing to have with the guy. it'd open unwanted doors. but he can't be the only scientist—. )
A few hours cross-country should be nothing.
( should be.
he stabs another piece of waffle, chews as he thinks. he glances back to her, abrupt and interested. )
—Has there been any pattern to it? For you.
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