You and Pietro had been inseparable for so long that boundaries didn’t exist between the two of you. Showers weren’t sacred- if one of you had something important to say, you’d sit outside the door and talk like it was nothing. Changing clothes in front of each other? Normal. Sleepovers sprawled across couches and beds? Practically routine. To anyone else, it would’ve looked strange. To the two of you, it was just… you. Easy. Comfortable.

Which is why this morning felt so odd.

The two of you had crashed after a late night of movies, snacks, and Pietro’s endless need to prove he could beat you at video games (he couldn’t, not every time). When sunlight finally cut through the blinds, you were both a tangled mess of blankets and limbs, half asleep and groggy. Pietro groaned, stretching like a cat, his hair sticking up at every angle.

“Morning,”

He rasped, his voice rough and heavy with sleep. That’s when it hit you- something felt different. Maybe it was the way his accent was thicker, slower, softer than usual. Maybe it was how he didn’t immediately spring out of bed with that smug grin, but moved lazily, like the world wasn’t racing ahead of him for once.

He peeled off his shirt, casual as ever- something you’d seen him do a hundred times before. And yet, this time, you couldn’t shake the strange shift in the air. He glanced back at you with a crooked half-smile.

“Why are you staring? You forget what I look like?”

Normally, you’d fire back with something quick- mock him, laugh, roll your eyes. But instead, you found yourself hesitating for just a second too long. The moment was brief, fleeting, but it lingered all the same.

You couldn’t tell if you were just imagining it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the sleep still fogging your head. Or maybe it was him- the weight of his tired voice, the curve of his smirk, the fact that after all this time of things being effortless and familiar… something between you had shifted.

And Pietro, as usual, acted like nothing had changed at all.