Until joining the Avengers, Wanda's not sure she'd ever been to a hotel before. If she had been, she must have been young, because she doesn't remember any of it. And why would she have gone to a hotel, when any hotels in Sokovia were just as dangerous as her own home, and leaving her country would simply have been too difficult and too expensive? They made do with what they had, and it all worked out in the end.

Well, it worked out until it didn't.

She tries not to think about that when she doesn't have to.

But right now, she is in a hotel, and, as always, she is awe-struck by its beauty. The Avengers always seem to pick the fanciest hotels around whenever they're staying the night somewhere far from home, and though they haven't strayed far today, it seems that this sleepover date night is no exception when it comes to quality.

She doesn't pay any attention while Natasha gets them checked in. Her eyes and her thoughts are too busy wandering the lobby. The chandelier shines bright from the ceiling. The stairs to the next level are protected by a beautiful swirling gold railing, and she can only imagine the view from up there. People are seated on the couches as if it's nothing, as if they don't look to be worth roughly the price of a healthy kidney on the black market. She can hardly believe it.

In her mind, she's always pictured a sleepover to be a small gathering in someone's bedroom or their basement, and maybe some time spent in the kitchen eating pizza and ice cream. This hotel is already setting a completely different tone than she'd expected from tonight.

Something taps her arm, and she looks down to see Natasha stabbing her with the edge of her hotel key. Wanda smiles sheepishly and takes it from her. This is probably important to keep.

"Shall we?" Natasha asks with a smirk.

"We shall," Wanda replies.

So they head off to the elevator, and from there, to their room. There are fifteen floors, she notices, though the thirteenth floor doesn't seem to have an opening for the elevator, because there's no button for it. She wonders briefly what could be on that thirteen floor, then ultimately decides that it doesn't really matter. It's presumably not open to guests, anyway, if the missing button is any indication.

The door opens, and she's greeted with an onslaught of off-white coloring under fancy schmancy ceiling lights. The design on the rug, largely golden in color, is far too intricate for her to look at and walk over at the same time, so she raises her gaze to the signage and the doors they pass until they reach their room.

828, the plaque beside the door reads. She's fairly certain that's the number that Natasha had told her. The fact that Natasha taps her key card to the reader and the door clicks unlocked would agree. She pushes the door open, then steps back and gestures for Wanda to go first. "Welcome to your first-ever sleepover."

Wanda beams as she steps into the hotel room, and she looks around, taking in the sights. There are two king-sized beds (though only one will be used tonight, she's sure), with bright white blankets on top that scream don't eat food on me. There's a desk; there's a couch; there's a beautiful view of the city out the window. Objectively, she's not sure it's actually any nicer than the hotels they usually stay at on missions, but it feels nicer. Honestly, just the fact that she's here for a sleepover date night with her girlfriend and not just for a bed to sleep in before heading out for work is probably a big part of the reason.

She takes a step inside, then another, then another, then drops her bags on the floor and runs over to the bed, throwing herself on it and plopping down on her stomach. She bounces thrice on the landing. That's how she knows this is going to be a damn good bed.

Wanda giggles and flips over onto her back, beaming up at the ceiling. She's already in love with this sleepover, and they haven't even done anything yet.

Natasha laughs as she enters the room as well, less enthusiastically as her girlfriend, but certainly not unhappy about it in the least. The door slams shut – a remarkably quiet slam for a door as heavy as it is – and the wheels of Natasha's suitcase come to a stop along the hardwood floor. The first few steps are audible, but they fade into silence as she crosses over to the carpet, and then the bed dips.

"You look like you're having fun," Natasha remarks, her tone light and playful.

"This is going to be the best night ever," Wanda declares. She's had a lot of good nights. Most of them happened when she was a kid, back in Sokovia with her parents and her brother in the midst of their goofy family hangouts, though a not-insignificant portion of them have occurred more recently, usually with Natasha by her side (or on top of her, or underneath her). This, she genuinely believes, may take the top spot. "Do you want to check out the pool? I think we should check out the pool!"

"Oh, we are definitely checking out the pool," Natasha says. "But..."

Wanda sits up, propping herself up with her hands behind her. "But?"

"I talked to the manager."

Wanda cocks an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"And I may or may not have secured us a post-closing time pool session at ten o'clock."

Wanda balks at her. "You mean we get the pool to ourselves?"

"Damn right, we do," Natasha says with a grin. "No screaming children. Nobody snapping pictures of us in bikinis. Just you, me, and some relaxing music on the bluetooth speaker I conveniently packed in my suitcase."

Weirdly, out of all of that, this is the part that gets her: "You brought a bikini?" That's so... not like her. She never wears bikinis in public. Hell, she hardly wears them in the private indoor Avengers pool, where nobody could see her but her friends.

Natasha shrugs sheepishly. "Well, y'know, if it's just gonna be you and me with a locked door separating us from the rest of the world, I figure it should be okay."

Wanda smiles softly, and she leans over and presses a kiss to her girlfriend's cheek. "I'm glad," she says, "because you look damn good in a bikini."

"Right back at ya, Wands."

Wanda can feel her face begin to heat up, and she does her best to pretend that she does not, in fact, feel her face heating up, because getting flushed when your literal girlfriend compliments you is embarrassing (which, unfortunately, has never stopped her before). "So, what do we want to do with the time we have until the pool closes?"

"Oh, I was hoping you'd ask that," Natasha says with a grin, and then she's hopping off the bed and heading right back to her suitcase.

Wanda cocks her head to the side, watching her with intrigue. What else does her lovely girlfriend have up her sleeve?

The first thing Natasha pulls out, this one from the front pocket, is her little bluetooth speaker, which has gotten a bit of a workout since they got together. She plops it on the floor quite dramatically, and then she begins digging through the big pocket.

"What, uh..." Wanda watches her uncertainly. "Whatcha looking for, babe?"

"You'll see," Natasha says, a bit mischievously.

"Well, now I'm scared," Wanda jokes.

Natasha just laughs, and Wanda swears it sounds a little bit evil. Should she be concerned? She feels like she should be a little concerned.

Finally, Natasha pulls out a black cloth bag. She returns to the bed, jumping up and landing on her butt with a fun bounce, and hands the bag over.

"What's this?" Wanda asks, lifting the bag up. It has some heft to it. She wasn't expecting that. And is that...? Why does she swear she just saw a flash of red as the bag untwisted itself around in the air? She holds it flat in front of her, and when nothing comes of that, she flips it around to see the other side. She cracks a smile, and she tilts it slightly to face her girlfriend. "Okay, that is adorable."

Natasha smirks. "I know," she says. "Made it myself."

Wanda balks at her, then at the beautiful red, glittery, Wanda Maximoff symbol on the front (is it weird that she has a superhero symbol but not a superhero name?), then at her girlfriend again. "You made it?"

"Mm-hmm," Natasha hums. "Bought some red sparkly iron-on vinyl, cut out the picture, and slapped that puppy on there." There's a look of pride on her face that, honestly, Wanda feels is well-earned.

"Nat, this is amazing," Wanda gushes. "I'm going to use this for everything."

"Okay, okay, don't hype it up too much," Natasha says, amused. "The real gift's what's inside the bag."

"I can't believe you got me a gift at all!" Wanda says. "I didn't think this was a gift-giving thing! I didn't even get you anything–"

"Wanda, babe, if I wanted a gift, I would have told you I was going to give you a gift before now," Natasha says, playfully condescending in her answer. "Now stop whining and open it, will you?"

So Wanda puts the bag down on her lap and opens up the top, ready to pull out whatever's inside, but with the way the bag falls, she can already see what's in it.

And all she can do is stare.

She looks at her girlfriend, eyes wide with awe. "Nat, are these...?"

"Are these what, Wanda?" Natasha asks with a smirk.

"These are J-Sams."

"Mm-hmm," Natasha hums, smug as hell about it.

"These are J-Sams," Wanda repeats, more emphatically, "These are the best tap shoes in the history of tap shoes. And they are sitting in my lap right now."

Natasha hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, no, that sounds about right," she agrees.

Wanda looks down at her shoes, then up at her girlfriend, then down at her shoes again, then up at her girlfriend again, then tosses the bag behind her so she can wrap her girlfriend in the biggest hug the world has ever seen. "Nat, you're the best!" she squeals.

Natasha just laughs and hugs her back. "I mean, you've only been talking about them since, like, the dawn of time."

"But I didn't think I'd ever actually have some!"

"Wanda, baby, our team sugar daddy is a billionaire," Natasha reminds her. "You could've asked Tony for these months ago and he would've written you the check on the spot. I don't know why you've been holding out this long."

Wanda shrugs sheepishly. "I don't know; I feel bad using his money for things I don't need," she says with an awkward shrug. "It's not like I needed new tap shoes. I already have two pairs, you know?"

"So what?" Natasha says. "The guy's got money to burn. I made him buy me a new mattress the other week because the memory foam in mine was getting too memory-y. He didn't even question it."

"I thought your bed felt different," Wanda says. "How did I not see you guys switching out a whole mattress?"

Natasha shrugs. "I think you were passed out on the couch or something, I don't know."

Wanda nods slowly. That would make sense, honestly. She does enjoy a good couch nap.

"But that's not the point," Natasha says. "The point is that you should have asked Tony to buy you new shoes months ago, but you didn't, so I did it for you. Now put them on so we can dance, will you?" She says the last part with a teasing smile, and she jumps to her feet, presumably to find her own tap shoes in her suitcase.

Wanda's smile falters. "Nat, baby, we're eight floors up," she reminds her. "We can't tap dance on the eight floor of a hotel."

"Sure we can," Natasha says with a grin. "Quiet hours start at nine. We have plenty of time." She trots over to her suitcase, and she rifles through it for her own shoes. One shoe comes out fairly quickly; the other, it seems, is buried somewhere deeper.

"Nat, are you sure?" Wanda asks cautiously. The last thing she wants is to piss off the neighbors just because she wanted to experience a sleepover for the first time.

"Relax, Wanda." Natasha finally finds her other shoe, and she sits down on the floor with them both in her lap, looking up at her girlfriend with an exasperated yet encouraging smile. "I bought out the rooms next to us, across from us, and below us. If anyone further away than that has an issue with it, that's their own problem."

Wanda eyes her uncertainly, but, honestly, annoying the neighbors is no longer on the forefront of her mind: the lack of neighbors is. "You bought out all of the rooms around us?"

"Just the ones directly around us," Natasha says, like that makes it any less insane of her. "I'm sure there are people two rooms away."

"But still!" Wanda says. "That's so many rooms! And we're just... not using them?"

Natasha just waves that off. "I told you, Tony's a cash cow. He had no problem fronting the bill."

Wanda balks at her, and she's not sure if she's balking because she can't believe Natasha did this, or if she's balking because she can't believe Natasha's so casual about having done this. "Remind me to thank him when we get home." Maybe she should bake him a cake – but one of those crappy homemade cakes with the shitty frosting job, because she's always sucked at frosting cakes, and she's never before let that stop her from doing it.

"Hey, you can thank him if you want," Natasha says, "but you know you're just gonna get a sarcastic remark as an answer."

"Yeah..." She makes a good point. But then, if Tony enjoys making sarcastic remarks, maybe it's worth it, anyway.

Natasha holds one of her tap shoes up in the air, a pointed gesture. "Now come on. We have some tappies to do."

~~~

"Par-a-did-le," Wanda and Natasha chant in unison, performing each step of the move to correspond with each syllable of the word. "Par-a-did-le. Par-a-did-le."

"And faster!" Natasha declares.

"Paradiddle. Paradiddle." Their chants grow faster, maybe twice the speed now. "Paradiddle. Paradiddle. Paradiddle."

They finish out the eight count (unofficially; there's no music playing right now), and then Natasha goes, "And even faster!"

So the chant grows faster, too. "Paradiddleparadiddleparadiddleparadiddle–"

At this point, Wanda feels like she's fighting for her life. She can hardly even speak this fast, never mind hit the dig, spank, toe, heel on time. But Natasha is still going, holding strong despite the speed, so Wanda keeps going. She's not going to fail. She's not going to be the one to tap out. She refuses.

In fact...

"Faster!" she declares.

In unison: "Paradiddleparadiddlepara–shit!"

Wanda stumbles over her own two feet, an embarrassing feat when she was the one to decide they should go faster, but when Natasha laughs at her, it's all in good fun, and Wanda can't help but laugh, too, once she's caught herself (fortunately without hitting the ground with anything but her chaotic and borderline uncontrollable feet).

"I'm good!" Wanda squeaks as she regains her balance.

"I wish I got that on video," Natasha laughs.

"And I am so glad you didn't," Wanda says, though, honestly, she probably would have thought the video was hilarious, even at her own detriment. "Okay, new step! Um... Buffalos!"

"Oh, I love me a good buffalo," Natasha says with a grin.

In unison: "Hop, shuf-fle, step! Hop, shuf-fle, step! Hop, shuf-fle, step!" Their words fade out as their feet take over, filling the space with the most aesthetically pleasing click-clacks the world (and their unfortunate hotel co-inhabitants) have ever heard. Even without some sort of backing beat to keep time, even without speaking the words aloud, they hit each step in unison.

And it gets faster.

And faster.

And faster.

They didn't even say it aloud. Neither of them officially decided that they should speed it up. It just happens. It usually does, with buffaloes. Wanda watches her girlfriend's feet, not so much to keep up with her but because she just loves to watch some nice tap dancing, then raises her gaze to her girlfriend's face, where she finds that Natasha's already looking back at her, a soft, loving smile on her lips. Wanda smiles back. She really does have the cutest girlfriend in the entire world.

"Should we switch sides?" Wanda asks. They don't want to over-buffalo one foot and under-buffalo the other. That would be terrible for the buffalo economy.

"Probably," Natasha agrees. "Ready?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Five..."

Hop, shuf-fle, step.

"Six..."

Hop, shuf-fle, step.

"Seven..."

Hop, shuf-fle, step.

"Eight."

Hop, shuf-fle, step, extra step, hop, shuf-fle, step.

They both grin, and they share a high-five as they continue their opposite-side buffaloes. They don't always hit that transition so smoothly, but god knows they've been working on it, and it paid off pretty damn well right now.

"Do you want to try a combo?" Natasha asks. "I'm sure there's at least one more Sabrina Carpenter combo on YouTube that we haven't done yet."

Wanda huffs a laugh. "Sounds like a plan," she agrees. "We have to even out the buffaloes first, though."

"Oh, obviously," Natasha says. "Gotta get those beautifully bilateral buffaloes."

Wanda snorts. "And now my girlfriend is Doctor Seuss."

Natasha points at her girlfriend's feet. "One buffalo." She points at her own feet. "Two bufallo." She points at Wanda's feet again. "Red buffalo." She points at her own feet again. "Also red buffalo, but maybe I should dye my hair blue for the joke."

Wanda shakes her head to herself. "Oh, I love you, Nat."

"I love you, too, Wanda."