multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: Remy & Wanda.
What: Dealing with some new arrivals.
Where: Their house!
When: After Wanda's conversation with Erik.
Notes: Backdated by a lot.

It would make more sense of her head were spinning. If she were astonished and shaken by the conversation she'd just had. That would be the normal response, Wanda thinks, but she's not normal and nothing about this situation is, either. The only constant is his behavior...and, she knows, something to come home to, after three years of building their ties to one another. She's grateful, as she hurries her way up to the front walk of the little house she and Remy have acquired, aware that it's a luxury she should never take for granted.

(Never again, anyway.)

She pauses, in front of the door. She takes a deep breath. And then, with a steadiness she does genuinely feel--it's not necessarily a good thing, that steadiness of hers, the intent behind her eyes, but she's comfortable with it for right now--she heads inside to see what she's missed.

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At least. Wanda should probably be more concerned with the potential interruptions, but everything falls together with Remy so nicely, especially as it pertains to physicality. She also can't resist reaching up to give his hair a good tug, because she is terrible in the stealthiest way.

She follows that up by breaking apart just enough to breathe.

"Wine?" Did you forget, sir?

It's so innocently posed that she must be trolling. Especially since she still has her hand in his hair, though it's looser, now.

Yes, he did.

(Well.)

He's got his hands on her hips now, holding her close (as if she's going to bolt away, sitting on the counter), and if she thinks he's got any objections to her particular methods of distracting him then she's just not paying very close attention. Remy glances cabinet-ward, turning his head a bit as if considering, and then turns back, brushing his nose against hers.

"This is pretty cool, isn't it?"

Sneaking around in their little house, dodging sleeping (maybe) children upstairs. So what, super villain in-laws and promises to disable one another in disaster have interrupted. That's life.

She can't help giggling a little, just briefly and faintly, which is not a sound most people ever hear from her in the first place. Wanda drags her nails lightly against the back of Remy's neck, going 'hmm,' ever so thoughtfully, as though she isn't doing anything at all.

She's not really all that invested in getting that. Surprise.

"It's wonderful, in fact. There's something about us and kitchens, though, have you noticed?"

Wanda distinctly remembers that conversation when the toaster or whatever it was exploded. And she had no pants on.

He loves that sound, and he grins, swaying against her playfully and nearly-kissing her lips - it might be teasing, but then he says:

"I think there might be somethin' about us and most places, chere, but if you can stick a do-not-disturb-bubble over this kitchen I ain't gonna complain-"

He probably wanted her to bite him for that, but boy, does he get his wish, if that's the case. While she rarely ever thinks of him in terms of comparing Remy to men she's known in the past, the amount of playfulness in their relationship is sort of unprecedented for her.

Wanda sort of thinks maybe that's part of what makes it stick so well.

"Somehow I think that might be an abuse of my powers," Wanda says, mock-reproachfully, "and furthermore it would almost certainly wake someone up."

Jeez, Wanda, it's like you aren't trying to deter him at all.

He nearly cracks up after she bites him, and he ends up laughing against her shoulder, muffled. "You know," he says, and takes the opportunity of his proximity to investigate her neck, jaw, her ear- "So might creepin' up the stairs, which you think feels most lucky?"

Wanda is momentarily derailed by the little sound he manages to elicit from her, but she's coherent enough to speak, fortunately.

"Let's risk those stairs," she declares. "Everything else can wait."

It doesn't have much of a choice.

He grins, and pulls her into his arms again, purposeful.

"Yes ma'am."