writinganonymouslove
"...You don't have to stay," she added, a little too quickly.
Pietro tilted his head, thinking. Then shrugged. "I mean. I was already awake. And the floor in my room is cold."
She eyed him sideways. "That's not my problem."
"True," he agreed. "But I will feel much better if I sit right here."
She scoffed. "You're terrible at subtlety."
"I am excellent at survival."
She hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But you're not sleeping on the floor."
He grinned immediately. "Ah. Too late."
She watched as he disappeared again, only to return with a pillow tucked under his arm.
"I'm young," he said cheerfully, dropping it by the door. "My spine is indestructible."
"I'm barely older than you."
"Exactly. Baka should be in the bed."
She rolled her eyes but lay back down, tugging the blanket up to her chest. "Fine, but you have to face the wall."
"What?"
"So I don't feel you staring at me like a creep."
He laughed, already turning. "This is how rumors start."
。・:*˚:✧。・:*˚:✧。
They irritated each other on purpose. Pietro only ever used her full name, like it was a challenge instead of an address. Tessa had better quips and never let him forget it. He talked too much; she refused to be impressed by any of it. They didn't fight so much as orbit-close enough to be felt, sharp enough to keep things interesting.
Somewhere along the way, without either of them meaning to, that irritation softened into recognition. They noticed they were translating each other without thinking, anticipating reactions, understanding the silences as easily as the sarcasm. By the time they realized it, they were already choosing each other in ways that felt suspiciously like home.