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I can see the entirety of my life so far, laying all in front of me. I can see a thousand little moments, moments I never could've known would be mine, scrunched up in to sacred things, peering back into my face. They make me hopelessly smile. They warm me up. My moments. Our moments.

But god, they take up so much damn room.

"Keep...keep...keep...toss."

I give Peter a long stare, a bewildered look, "You're tossing this book on advanced biology?"

The textbook weighs down my hand as I stare at Peter in the middle of all the chaos. He's sitting in the only clear space among piles of junk, of frayed road-trip t-shirts, our numerous cassette tape collections, an army of house plants, and a million other things we've accumulated in our room in the mansion over the decade. He smiles at me in the cowboy hat we got from the World's Largest Boot, and a pair of orange shutter shades I don't know the origins of.

"Yeah, toss the biology textbook," he repeats.

"You're tossing the biology textbook, but you're keeping..." I glance down to my feet at his 'keep' pile, "You're keeping an old hairbrush, a worn-out pair of sneakers, and a lone shoestring?"

He laughs. An infectious kind of laugh.
"You can be my biology textbook, professor. But you can't hold my shoes together."

There's a moment when a glimmer captures my attention. It's coming from one of the boxes. A coin. There's an eagle and a swastika on it. What the hell is this from?
I figure it's nothing. I unceremoniously shove it into my pocket.

"I will never quite understand that Maximoff logic of yours," I confess. Peter steps toward me, beside the window. I watch the sunlight as it makes his face glow and his cheeks heat up. His energy washes over me and I briefly close my eyes to soak it in.

"We both know it's not logic. It's more like...an organized, flaming mess up here," he states. My chest flutters with laughter and he presses a kiss to my forehead.

"Oh, c'mon," I beckon.

"What?" he says, a brow raised.

"Not even a faint glow. You can do better than that, Quicksilver."

Peter smirks, accepting the challenge, "Fine. You want a kiss? I'll show you a kiss."

His arms firmly hoist me up into the air, giving me the chance to wrap my legs around his torso. He butterflies kisses along the side of my neck, the feeling soft and ticklish, before dropping me onto the bed, onto the pile of the old t-shirts, my head laid over a wrinkled picture of the World's Largest Teapot. He plants a firm, passionate kiss on me, long and tender, cupping my face and keeping his mouth on mine until he's sure my whole body has lit up, and the room is full of blinding streams of energy, involuntary bursts of light.

Humans: Book IVWhere stories live. Discover now