[Perspective: Wanda Maximoff]

  The morning sun had a habit of being rude, but today, it was surprisingly gentle. It filtered through the sheer curtains of his room… casting a hazy glow over the bed.

  Wanda lay on her side, her head propped up on one hand, her eyes tracing the contours of the man sleeping next to her.

  Aryan was just... peaceful. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm.

  She shifted slightly, the duvet rustling.

  She reached out a hand. Her fingers hovered inches from his face.

  She lowered her index finger, barely grazing the stubble on his jaw.

  He didn't move.

  She grew bolder. She traced the line of his nose. She brushed a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. She tapped his chin.

  He twitched. His nose scrunched up, just for a second, then relaxed.

  Wanda pulled her hand back, biting her lip to suppress a giggle.

  He is deep under, she noted.

  She waited. Ten seconds. Twenty.

  She reached out again. This time, she ran her thumb over his cheekbone.

  He sighed in his sleep, turning his head slightly into her touch.

  Her heart did a traitorous little flip.

  He seeks me out even when he is unconscious, she realized.

  She continued her study. She touched his earlobe. She traced his eyebrow. She was testing the boundaries, seeing how much of him she could claim before the world demanded him back.

  But the sun was getting higher. The birds outside were starting their daily screaming match.

  Time to wake up, Baker, she decided.

  She moved her hand down. To that sensitive spot just above his hip bone.

  She wiggled her fingers.

  Tickle.

  Tickle, tickle.

  [Perspective: Aryan Spencer]

  There is a distinct difference between waking up because the universe is collapsing and waking up because someone is treating your hip bone like a piano.

  "Gah!"

  I jerked awake, my body convulsing. I tried to roll away, but the duvet had trapped me in a cocoon of my own making.

  "Stop! Mercy!" I gasped, batting blindly at the attacking hands.

  I opened my eyes to see Wanda hovering over me. She was a menace. An auburn haired menace with a smile that could power a small city.

  "Good morning," she chirped, digging her fingers into my side again.

  "It is not a good morning!" I laughed, finally managing to free an arm and catch her wrists. "This is torture! I am calling the authorities! I am calling... Mrs. Higgins!"

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  "Mrs. Higgins cannot save you here," she teased, leaning her weight onto her hands so I couldn't throw her off. "This is a lawless zone."

  "You're vicious," I panted, holding her wrists away from my vulnerable tickle spots. "I thought you were a superhero. Aren't you supposed to protect the innocent?"

  "You are not innocent," she countered, her eyes dancing. "You stole the covers at 3 AM."

  "I did not! That was a tactical retreat due to thermal fluctuations!"

  I looked at the invisible camera located somewhere near the ceiling fan.

  Do you see this? I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs… partly from the tickling and mostly from the proximity. Three days ago, I was waking up screaming because I remembered the sound of a timeline snapping. Now? I'm being assaulted by the Scarlet Witch before I've even had coffee. If this is a simulation, don't unplug me. I'm serious. I will fight the admin.

  "Okay, okay, truce," I bargained, looking back at her. "I surrender. I yield. I will make pancakes."

  Wanda considered this. She looked at my hands holding hers. She looked at my face.

  "Blueberry?" she negotiated.

  "With the extra syrup," I promised.

  "Acceptable."

  She pulled her hands back, sitting up on her heels. The sudden loss of contact made the air feel a little colder.

  "I need to brush my teeth," she announced, sliding off the bed. "I will be back."

  She headed for the door to the hallway.

  "Wait," I called out.

  She turned, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

  I sat up, running a hand through my hair which I assumed looked like a bird's nest.

  "You don't have to go to your room," I said casually. "Check the cabinet. Top shelf. Left side."

  Wanda frowned, confused. "In your bathroom?"

  "Yeah. I... uh... I bought a spare. When we went shopping. Forgot to mention it."

  I looked at the invisible camera again, I definitely did not just materialize a pink toothbrush into existence with a thought three seconds ago. That would be irresponsible. I bought it. Totally.

  Wanda looked at me. She looked at the en suite door.

  "You bought me a toothbrush for your bathroom?" she asked slowly.

  "Efficiency," I shrugged. "Why walk twenty feet when you can walk five? It's basic energy conservation, Wanda."

  A slow smile spread across her face.

  "Efficiency," she repeated. "Okay."

  She walked into my bathroom.

  I scrambled out of bed and followed her.

  We stood side by side at the vanity. I grabbed my blue brush. She grabbed the pink one (which was definitely, totally there the whole time).

  We brushed.

  There is something profoundly intimate about foaming at the mouth next to someone. It strips away the mystique. You can't be a mysterious cosmic entity when you're spitting mint paste into a sink.

  I caught her eye in the mirror. She winked.

  I nearly swallowed my toothpaste.

  We finished up. I wiped my face with a towel.

  "I need a shower," I announced, leaning against the counter.

  Wanda looked me up and down. She was leaning against the doorframe, looking entirely too comfortable in my space.

  "Enjoy," she said.

  "Unless..." I let the word hang there, a playful bait. "You want to save water? The planet is dying, Wanda. Conservation is key."

  Wanda raised an eyebrow. She stepped forward, invading my personal space until she was inches away.

  "Are you inviting me to bathe with you, Aryan?" she whispered, her voice dropping an octave.

  I froze. My bluff had been called. My cards were on the table and they were all jokers.

  "I... uh..." I stammered, my face heating up. "I was... speaking theoretically. Strictly... environmental... hypothesis."

  She laughed, a throaty sound. She reached out and patted my cheek.

  "Maybe next time, Baker," she teased. "When you are not blushing like a tomato."

  She turned and sauntered out of the bathroom.

  I stood there. Staring at my reflection.

  "You coward," I whispered to the mirror. "You absolute walnut."

  I looked at the audience.

  "Shut up," I warned. "She's out of my league and we all know it. I'm playing the long game. The very, very long game."

  [Perspective: Wanda Maximoff]

  Wanda walked down the hallway to her own room, her heart racing. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned her back against it, a shaky laugh escaping her lips.

  What was that? she thought, bringing a hand to her still warm cheeks. What has gotten into me?

  She had never been so bold. She had never teased a man with such playful intimacy.

  She walked into her bathroom, turning on the bathwater with a trembling hand. As the tub filled, she stripped off her clothes, her skin still tingling from the memory of his panicked gaze. All the time she was getting into the bath, a fluttering warmth was spreading through her chest. It was an exhilarating feeling.

  She walked down the stairs a little while later, feeling lighter than air.

  She had won. She had won the morning. She had won the bathroom standoff.

  He turned so red, she thought, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. He is adorable when he panics.

  She walked into the kitchen. She started the coffee machine.

  The doorbell rang.

  Ding dong.