It had been a painfully long day, making up for the nearly six hours of work that Max had missed that morning. She was so thankful that she worked for her own father or she would have been fired so fast today. Dragging her feet down the hallway of the apartment building, shoes in hand rather than worn, she stumbled into her fairly nice penthouse apartment. It was one of the many perks of working closely with Tony Stark. When she walked in to find a man sitting on her couch, she should have been startled or at least a little concerned. However, with her security system, it could only be one person. Stephen sat casually on her sofa, dressed in a dark grey dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled a bit, tucked into black pants, as he read silently.

"You're just letting yourself into my apartment now?"

"You let yourself into my house," he shrugged casually, not turning his attention from his book.

"Actually, your house lets me in."

"That's fair. After all, my being here doesn't bother you."

"Stephen," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Just because you always know how I feel about something doesn't mean you shouldn't ask me how I feel about it first."

"That doesn't make any sense," he scoffed lightly, looking up at her.

"Forget it. You're already here. How long have you been here anyway?"

"About fifteen minutes. I wrapped up "work" early and I know that you like the idea of coming home to someone, so I thought I'd surprise you."

"I've never mentioned that I-"

"You don't have to."

She paused for a minute dropping her shoes and bag carefully.

"You know, there are pros and cons to having a boyfriend who always knows exactly how I feel. It's cheating."

"Right now, you want company and food. I've provided both. Yes, it's cheating. Is that such a terrible thing?"

Max looked at the previously empty coffee table to see a large tray of fresh sushi and a pot of hot tea.

"Damn you, Strange."

She flopped down on the couch next to him, setting his book aside and wrapping his arm around her own shoulders. Instantly settling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder, she let out a long, calming breath.

"Today sucked."

"This morning was nice," he noted, "But I'm sorry to hear about the rest."

"What kinds of sushi is this?"

"Some eel, salmon, and tuna. I know that those three are your favorites. No crab, of course. Paired with black chai tea with ginger."

"Oh, I love you," she mumbled into his shoulder.

The words came so naturally to her that she didn't give them a thought, but they echoed in Stephen's mind for a long moment. She'd never said that before. Neither of them had really used the term "love" yet, trying to make sure that things were relaxed and slow if they needed to be. His thoughts seemed completely consumed by that one thought. She loved him. A smile broke out on his face without another thought, and he pulled her in closer to him to kiss her forehead. Max's tired mind was still set on food at the moment, but tension from the day faded out of her shoulders when his arms wrapped tighter around her.

"Where'd you go for sushi this fresh? I can't find a decent place nearby."

"Well...uh, Japan."

"You brought me my favorite sushi fresh from Japan?"

"I'm pretty fantastic."

Sitting up a bit straighter, Max grabbed a pair of chopsticks from beside the tray of food and used them to put one of the eel rolls into her mouth.

"Mmm…" she hummed happily as her eyes shut for a moment of culinary bliss, "That's so good. Just what I needed."

She paused for a moment, briefly remembering Stephen's unfortunate aversion to chopsticks. It wasn't that he didn't like them. They were just exceptionally difficult for him. With a playful, sweet smile, she grabbed another piece of sushi, this time offering it to him.

"Here. Try it."

She'd hoped that her action registered as a cute and sweet gesture and not a clear response to his previous struggles with sushi. To her delight, it did. He matched her own smirk. Max was sure that he hadn't meant to seem incredible seductive in taking the food from her chopsticks, but he was effortlessly successful.

"This…" she remarked, gesturing to all of him with the bamboo sticks in her hand, "This isn't fair."

"You gestured to all of me."

"Yup. Because all of you is my current problem. It's criminal to look like that in a shirt that tight," she groaned in a slightly irritated frustration.

"And here I thought you were trying not to encourage my ego."

"I'm not saying your appearance makes you any less of a giant nerd, Merlin."

"There it is."

She grinned proudly before feeding him another piece of sushi, which he happily accepted. In turn, her tea lifted itself into her hand for her. She couldn't help but to giggle at how odd the two probably looked together.

The credits rolled slowly as the movie Max had put in came to an end. Max was slowly drifting off to sleep against Stephen's side again, but he, sadly, had to shake her slightly to wake her up.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Sweetheart," he mumbled into her hair, "But it's late and I should go. For that, I need my arm back."

"Nooo…" she fussed, drawing his arm tighter around her, "Don't go."

"It's late."

"I don't care," she mumbled, turning to bury her face further into his chest, "I don't work tomorrow. Is the world in danger?"

"No. For now, everything's fine."

"Then you can't have your arm back."

"Come here," he smirked, scooping her small frame up in his arms before standing from the couch.

Completely trusting him, she just snuggled in closer, unphased by being up off the ground. Stephen carried Max down the open hallway into her room and laid her down gently on her large bed, trying to contain a laugh as she still refused to let go of him.

"You win. I'll stay," he assured her, "But you have to get some sleep."

"Fine…" she grumbled, releasing him.

She thought for a moment before sitting up and climbing right back off the bed. She walked into her large closet and grabbed a duffel bag from the corner. She set the bag on the corner of her bed, unzipped it, and pulled out a pair of men's lounge pants.

"Here."

She tossed them to Stephen, who was still staring intensely at the bag of men's clothing she happened to have in her apartment.

"Should I be concerned about that?"

"Oh, no no no!" she laughed, realizing how that must look, "A while back, Tony had a minor crisis and crashed on my couch for two days. He just really didn't want to be at the tower after...a lot was going on. Since then, I got this bag ready for him, in case he needed to stay here again. He hasn't needed it. It still might be of some use after all."

"And this kit doesn't include a shirt?" he snarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, it does," she stated casually, "I'm just not offering it. I have a lot to gain from you not having one."

"You're terrible."

"I prefer to see it as...prioritized."

With a smirk and a shrug he accepted what little he was offered, walking toward her connected bathroom to change.

"Oh, and...how terrible would it be to get that shirt wrinkled up?"

"I prefer using magical shortcuts to actually ironing, so not terrible. Why do you ask?"

"Awesome. It's a trade for the pants."

"You're terribly proud of yourself right now, aren't you?" he huffed, watching her smirk widen.

He unbuttoned the shirt and slid it off before handing it to her.

"Pleasure doing business with you. You can change out here. I'm gonna shower."

She walked past him into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Stephen took a long look at the pants in his hand.

"Well, Tony," he smirked, "Just another reason for you to hate me one day."

After he changed, he sat quietly on the end of the bed, deep in thought. Tony probably would hate him for this all one day. It's not like he sought the billionaire's approval by any means, but he never wanted animosity between them. Yet, here he was, with Tony's daughter, in Tony's daughter's apartment, and now in Tony's clothes. This was going to be a long talk when it inevitably caught up with them. For now, he was distracted by the bathroom door opening. A split second after, he was infinitely more distracted by the sight of Max dressed in the long men's shirt. His shirt. He held a hand out toward her and, as she took it, used it to draw her over close to where he sat. Placing his hands on her hips and resting his head against her, he took a deep calm breath.

"How are the pants?" she wondered.

"Short."

"It's not my fault you're a tree," she chuckled, running her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

"You smell good."

Her laugh was nothing short of adorable to him. He stood slowly, not yet letting go of her waist. She reached past him into the bag and then leaned back to lightly shove a still packaged toothbrush and toothpaste against his chest.

"I guess you'll have one here now."

He kissed her forehead and walked toward the bathroom. Looking in the still slightly fogged mirror, he just now noticed the smile on his face. He hadn't even realized that it had stayed there so long. Looking down at the toothbrush in his hand, he took another moment to realize a new point in their relationship. Now she had admitted to loving him and he had a toothbrush at her apartment. Sure, it was a small thing, but...he'd really never had this small gesture in any other relationships. Sure, others had claimed to love him. At one point, he knew Christine probably truly did. However, this felt so different. This was something more long-term than he'd had before. He could easily get used to this.

When he walked back into the bedroom, Max was already curled up in a burrito of blankets half asleep. She'd folded down the comforter on the side opposite her in invitation. Traditionally, he knew she wasn't at the point where "sleeping together," for lack of any other non-explicit term, was out of the question. However, she'd made an exception for them sharing a bed when they'd both realized that she slept far more soundly and restfully when he was with her. As quietly as he could, which was nothing short of silent, he climbed into the bed, laying back after snugging the blankets closer around Max. In a moment, she had turned over and shifted to lay her head on his chest and snuggle into his side. Lightly wrapping his arms around her, he placed a kiss on her forehead once more.

"It's just like a sleepover party," she mumbled into his chest, "But...muscley."

"A what?"

"A sleepover. When your parents used to let friends spend the night at your house as a kid. Except...this is different and my dad would freak out."

"I never had those when I was young."

"Yeah...me neither," she yawned.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

She tiredly hummed in response, fading rapidly into a safe, comfortable sleep. When her breathing slowed and deepened to signify that she was asleep, he spoke to her softly once more.

"I love you too."