It was Malrick who ended up preparing dinner. Though he only used magic to make the kitchen utensils float and move, the food was far better than Yelena's charred mess. When Sherry had last tasted Yelena's fried rice — blackened and burnt — she'd said it tasted like it came from a scorched iron pot.
That night, he made the dishes and chopsticks hop into the sink one by one, washing themselves clean.
He arranged rooms for Diana and Kara, then found Natasha.
"Natasha," he said, "tomorrow I'll need help setting up identities and school enrollment for Diana and Kara. Diana wants to study history."
"No problem," Natasha replied, moving with a cat‑like grace. Her sleek legs, clad in black stockings, looked all the more seductive in the low light. She traced a finger down Malrick's chest. On tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, "But that's extra work. How much will you pay, Malrick or should I call you boss... ?"
He paused, then smiled knowingly. "I'll double your rate. But you'd better bring Yelena. Otherwise, you're not walking away with that much overtime pay."
Natasha narrowed her eyes, a glint in them. "Alright, I'll call her… Wait, what's this?" She leaned in, then suddenly stiffened. She pulled Malrick back a step, shifting into a fighting stance.
But before anything could happen, a circle of crimson light flared at Malrick's feet — a magic array.
They both gasped.
"It's a summoning circle?"
"Again?" Natasha said, bewildered.
Malrick rubbed his forehead. "It's Wanda. She's calling me." He sounded exasperated. Wanda? Could it be the one from the parallel world?
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You two sure move fast, with all sorts of tricks."
"Maybe," Malrick said vaguely. He didn't want to explain parallel‑world Wandas — that always got complicated. Still, he could feel the pull of the array. Fortunately, this summoning wasn't forced. It was consensual: he'd only join if he agreed.
Natasha patted his chest. "Go on. Answer your little girlfriend's call. But remember: overtime pay."
"You always think about your payment," he grumbled.
"That's because I deserve it, you big capitalist. All that money you hoard… it just disappears every morning. Besides aren't you still nineteen?"
Malrick shook his head. "I only look nineteen. Morning troubles from puberty are… far from me."
"Maybe," Natasha teased, glancing at a juicer on the counter. Then she stepped back as he allowed the magic to sweep him away.
---
He arrived in the parallel universe. There was no battle, no chaos — only quiet. The lingering tinge of chaos magic still clung to Malrick, and he rolled his eyes.
"Is nobody here? Wanda again?" he muttered. "If she could somehow see my Wanda's memories in her dreams… that'd be just too much."
When the magic finally settled, he found himself in a cozy living room — not a battlefield. And standing across from him was Wanda. She looked anxious, hugging her arms tightly.
"It's you?" she whispered.
Malrick recognized her. This was the Wanda he had saved that day. "But… wasn't Ultron dealt with already? Why did you call me again?"
Wanda tugged at a strand of her hair, then pressed her hands to her sides, visibly embarrassed. "Did I disturb you?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Go on."
She cleared her throat, then pointed at a dining table a few meters away. "I… made dinner, Malrick."
There were a few dishes laid out: stewed meat, flatbread rolls, a kind of milk pudding, roasted chicken — Eastern European style. Malrick appreciated the gesture.
"So, dinner invitation?" he asked, glancing around.
"Yes." Wanda nodded, embarrassment still on her face. "Everyone else is eating elsewhere, but I thought... maybe tonight." She hesitated. "When you said 'next time' before — I thought you might've meant… tonight."
Malrick blinked. He realized this Wanda's mind worked differently when it comes down to stuff like this.
Wanda took a small step to the table, gesturing to her food. "Ta-da! It's all fresh. Try whatever you like."
He pulled out a chair. "You put so much into this. I'd be rude to refuse."
When he sat, Wanda's excitement flickered. She clasped her fists and trembled slightly, like she'd scored a small victory.
"Good!" she smiled. "Here, try the flatbread with chicken."
He picked up the flatbread. With his appetite, he could've eaten a uranium mine and still asked for dessert. He took a bite.
"It's good," he said. "Thank you. But… why invite me? Why cook?"
Wanda's cheeks warmed. "Because I want to thank you. You saved Pietro … and you saved Earth."
She raised a glass to toast. "Cheers."
He met her gaze. "I just did what needed to be done. You don't have to thank me."
He could tell what she really felt. It was obvious: she liked him. Her eyes, her tone, the way she leaned in when she spoke — it all meant something.
He changed the subject slightly, gently. "I'm curious — your world is… different. Why did things go so wrong?"
She lowered her glass. "That's what I want to talk to you."
A soft silence filled the room. The faint hum of magic lingered in the air, as if the room itself waited for her to speak.
Malrick leaned forward slightly, encouraging her. "I'm listening."
Wanda bit her lip, glancing down at the table. "It's complicated… but I think I need your help again. This time, it's about controlling the chaos inside me."
He nodded slowly. "We'll figure it out. Together."
Wanda's eyes brightened slightly, hope flickering through her worry. She placed her hands on the table, palms up, as if ready to hand over her troubles to him.
Malrick offered a reassuring smile. "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."
_____
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