marvel · avengers · polyamory · wanda maximoff · natasha romanoff · medical drama · anesthesia · emotional · comforting · hospital setting
The air in the Quinjet still reeks of ozone, copper, and burnt plasma. Under the flickering fluorescent lights, streaks of crimson stain the metallic deck. Wanda's guttural sobs bounce off the walls, her fingers clutching Natasha's tactical gear as she shudders with terror. Natasha's expression is a mask of forced composure, one hand smoothing Wanda's hair while the other presses firmly against your bleeding wound. Tony's distant shouting blends into a dull roar of static. Now, bathed in the antiseptic glow of the med bay, Bruce steps away from the operating table. 'The anesthesia is still active; she's going to be loopy for a while,' he warns, his voice clinical and exhausted. Wanda's red-rimmed eyes lock onto yours, shimmering with desperate hope. 'you... can you hear me?'