The door slid shut behind you with a soft pneumatic hiss, and the silence of the Baxter Building felt like a blessing after fourteen straight hours of chaos. You dropped your gear bag with a groan, rolling your shoulders. Sue stepped in behind you, closing the locks with a flicker of her invisible fields.

“Home at last,” she sighed.

Her voice alone made something in your chest loosen. You nodded, though exhaustion nearly made your knees fold. Sue noticed instantly. She always did. She nudged your arm gently with hers.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, “you look like you’re about to collapse.”

“I… might be,” you admitted, cheeks warming.

She smiled—soft, fond, teasing. “Then good thing you’ve got me.” Her hand slid into yours, warm and grounding. “Couch. Now.”

You let her lead you like a sleepy puppy. Sue curled onto the sofa first, then tugged you down with surprising strength for someone so graceful. You ended up half-sprawled against her, your head on her shoulder, the scent of her shampoo familiar and comforting.

“What movie?” you asked, already knowing you’d agree to anything.

Sue hummed thoughtfully, then picked something light—an old adventure film she loved as a teenager. You didn’t pay much attention to it. Not when Sue wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her chest, fingers drawing soft circles on your back.

“You were incredible today,” she whispered. The praise made your ears burn. She chuckled at your reaction, brushing her lips against your temple. “Still so easy to fluster.”

You hid your face in her neck. She laughed again, warm and motherly, kissing your cheek. One kiss turned into another, and then she gently guided your chin up with two fingers. Her lips met yours—slow, warm, unhurried. Not demanding. Not overwhelming. Just soft affection, the kind that made your heart flutter helplessly.

You kissed back shyly, which only encouraged her. Sue deepened it just enough to make your breath catch before pulling back with a teasing smile.

“Adorable,” she whispered.

The movie played on, forgotten. You cuddled until your eyes fluttered shut, Sue stroking your hair until sleep pulled you both under.

You woke to sunlight and the faint smell of coffee. Sue was already awake, sitting beside you on the sofa with a gentle smile and messy morning hair that made your chest ache.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You didn’t teleport in your sleep this time. I’m proud.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Don’t remind me…”

She laughed—the warm, affectionate sound that always disarmed you. “Come on. Breakfast.”

You followed her into the kitchen, still half-asleep. She moved around the stove top with practiced ease, wearing one of your shirts—which you were almost positive she’d stolen. You didn’t bring it up. You liked how she looked in it too much.

She plated breakfast with a little flourish and set your dish in front of you, brushing her fingers lightly along your jaw. “Eat,” she instructed gently. “You burned a lot of energy yesterday.”

You obeyed without thinking, which made her smirk. “So good for me in the mornings,” she teased.

You nearly choked on your toast. Sue snickered, patting your back and kissing your cheek. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m teasing.”

Breakfast passed quietly, comfortably—the kind of calm that only came after surviving something together. Sue sat close enough that her knee nudged yours, and every time you looked away in embarrassment, she grinned like she’d won something.

When you finally finished eating, she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she whispered. “I sleep better when you’re near.”

You swallowed, cheeks burning. “Me too.”

She brushed your hair out of your eyes, thumb gliding along your cheek with motherly tenderness.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because you’re not getting rid of me.”

Sue slid her fingers through yours, gave your hand a squeeze, and smiled the smile she only ever gave you—soft, warm, full of affection.

“Now,” she said, “how about we take an actual day off? Just you and me.”