She finished her breakfast quickly. She stood up.
"I need the car keys," she said.
I fished them out of my pocket. "I'll drive you."
"No!" she said, a little too quickly. "I mean... no. You have a task here."
"I do?"
"Yes." She pointed to the sliding glass door.
I looked out. The one eyed pirate cat was sleeping on the patio furniture.
"What about him?"
"He needs a bath," Wanda said. "He smells like a dumpster. And he has fleas. You promised."
"I promised he could stay in the garage," I argued. "I didn't promise a spa day."
"He cannot come inside until he is clean," she insisted. "Please? For me?"
She gave me the look. The pout.
I sighed. "Fine. I will wash the beast. But if I bleed, I'm claiming workers comp."
She kissed my cheek. "Thank you. You are the best."
She grabbed the keys and practically ran out the door.
I watched her go.
[Perspective: Aryan Spencer]
I gathered the supplies. Bucket. Cat shampoo (which I manifested in the cupboard because who buys cat shampoo?). Towels. And heavy duty gloves.
I walked out to the patio.
The cat was asleep. He looked peaceful. Ignorant of his fate.
"Hey," I said, nudging the chair.
One yellow eye opened.
"Party's over, pal," I said. "It's bath time."
The cat hissed.
"Don't take that tone with me," I warned. "I'm the guy with the food."
I looked at the audience.
"Look at him," I said, gesturing to the cat. "Leisurely sleeping. Eating free chicken. He's basically you guys. Just sitting there, consuming content, expecting me to do all the work."
I filled the bucket with warm water.
"Okay," I said to the cat. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way involves you cooperating. The hard way involves me turning gravity off so you can't run."
The cat stood up. He arched his back.
I reached out. I grabbed him by the scruff.
"Gotcha."
I lowered him into the water.
MEOOOOW.
It was the sound of a demon being exorcised.
"It's just water!" I shouted over the wailing. "Stop being dramatic!"
I poured the water over him. He looked pathetic. A wet rat with claws.
I scrubbed. He growled, a rumbling sound like a tiny engine.
"You know," I told him, rinsing the suds off. "You're lucky. You landed in the only house in Westview protected by a Reality Bender and a Witch. You won the lottery."
I lifted him out. I wrapped him in a towel.
I pulled a hair dryer from the pile (extension cord running from the kitchen).
I turned it on low.
The cat tolerated it. Mostly because he was swaddled so tight he couldn't move.
When he was dry, he looked... fluffy. Less pirate, more cloud.
"Look at you," I said, holding him up. "You're handsome. Almost."
I set him down. He shook himself, puffing up to twice his size.
"Okay," I said, sitting on the patio step. "Listen closely."
The cat sat down and licked his chest.
"Rule number one," I listed. "No scratching the furniture. That sofa is Italian leather. If you scratch it, you become a rug."
The cat blinked.
"Rule number two," I continued. "No eating the plants. Especially Sir Drinks a Lot. He's sensitive."
"Rule number three. The bathroom."
I pointed to a plastic litter box I had set up in the corner of the patio.
"That," I said. "Is the Executive Washroom. You use it. If I find a surprise in my shoe, we are going to have a very serious conversation about the laws of physics."
The cat looked at the box. Then looked at me.
[Perspective: Wanda Maximoff]
Wanda drove Aryan's car. It smelled like him. Sandalwood and mint. She took a deep breath, letting the scent fill her lungs.
She drove past her old plot of land… the empty foundation where Vision's house was supposed to be.
She turned toward the town center.
She found a newsstand on the corner.
She parked the car and got out. She walked up to the metal rack.
There it was.
WESTVIEW HERALD: LOCAL HEROES SAVE LIFE.
A big picture of Aryan and her in the park.
She picked it up.
Then she looked at the New Jersey Times. MYSTERY DOCTOR AND AVENGER: A LOVE STORY?
She picked that one up too.
She looked at the rack. There were five different papers. All of them had Aryan's face.
She gathered them all. Every single copy.
She walked to the counter. The old man behind the register looked at her armful of paper.
"That is... a lot of news, miss," he noted.
"I am catching up," she said, placing the stack on the counter. "I will take them all."
"All of them?"
"Yes. Every copy you have."
"Okay..."
She paid.
She carried the heavy stack back to the car. She put them in the trunk, covering them with a blanket so they wouldn't be seen immediately.
She got back in the driver's seat.
She started the car.
She drove back toward the house.
On the way, she passed the ice cream shop.
Scoops & Sweets.
She slowed down.
She pulled in.
She went inside.
"One scoop," she ordered. "Chocolate. The darkest you have."
"Cup or cone?"
"Cup. With a spoon."
She got the ice cream. She walked back to the car.
She placed the cup in the cup holder.
She looked at it. It was melting.
She raised her hand. A faint red mist surrounded the cup.
The melting stopped. The ice cream held its frozen shape.
She drove home.
She pulled into the driveway.
She got out. She grabbed the stack of papers from the trunk, hiding the ice cream cup on top.
She walked to the backyard gate. She peeked over the fence.
Aryan was sitting on the patio step. The cat (now fluffy and clean) was sitting in front of him.
Aryan was wagging a finger.
"...and finally, if you bring me a dead mouse, I will not be impressed. I will be disgusted. Bring me cash. Or diamonds."
Wanda smiled.
She slipped into the house through the side door. She ran quietly to the library. She hid the stack of newspapers in the bottom drawer of the desk.
I will frame them later, she promised herself.
She grabbed the ice cream. She walked out to the patio.
"Aryan," she called out.
He looked up. He stopped mid sentence.
"You're back," he said, smiling. "And the beast is clean."
"He looks... fluffy," Wanda observed, looking at the cat.
"He's soft," Aryan admitted. "Don't tell him I said that."
Wanda walked down the steps. She held up the cup.
"I brought something."
Aryan's eyes lit up. "Is that...?"
"Chocolate," she confirmed.
He stood up. He walked over to the outdoor sink and washed his hands thoroughly. He dried them on his jeans.
"I am ready," he announced, walking over to her.
"Ready for what?" she teased.
He opened his mouth. "Ready to be fed."
She laughed. It was a happy sound.
She peeled the lid off. She dipped the spoon.
She held it out.
He took a bite. He hummed in appreciation.
He looked at her. His eyes were warm.
She took a bite of the remaining ice cream on the spoon. It was sweet and him.
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