"One, two, three…" Max counted off silently to herself as she scooped coffee grounds into the machine.

The scent of hot, fresh coffee started to fill the kitchen, happily breathed in deeply by a sleepy Max, as she stretched the last bits of sleep out of her stiff limbs. Pulling all of the essentials for breakfast out of the fridge, she set about to make the best breakfast for two that she could, which didn't mean a lot aside from omelettes. Breakfast was never her strongest point of cooking. As she hummed quietly, another sound faintly reached her ears. Stopping her humming to listen closer, she identified the other sound as a loud grumbling from down the hallway.

"Stephen?" she called softly down the hall, walking that way.

The bedroom door was usually kept open, which allowed her to see Stephen tossing and turning violently, a thin sheet of sweat covering his skin, as he mumbled incoherently. Moving closer, she could see the pained expression on his face. He was terrified. Objects around the room shook violently, some falling to the floor and some simply stuck in midair. The room itself seemed distorted and unreal, as though she were the one in the bad dream and not him. For a moment, the sheer chaos of the room unsettled her, but she immediately pushed the feeling aside, setting her mind to her main priority.

"Stephen!" she called to him again, placing her hands on his shoulders, firm enough to be noticed, but gentle enough not to startle him or make it worse. Even while he was asleep, she didn't fully know what he was capable of, so it was better so be safe. When there was no change, she threw said safety out the window. She easily climbed up over him, placing a knee on either side of his waist. One hand grabbed his and her other hand went to his face, keeping his head from shaking any more.

"Stephen!"

With a deep, rasping breath, his eyes shot open with a panicked expression. He looked around frantically, before his sight settled on Max.

"Hey, hey," she cooed softly, rubbing her thumb across his cheek, "Come back to me, baby."

Realization sunk in when he moved to prop himself up on his elbows. Max gently moved back further, giving him a bit more room.

"I'm...sorry…" he gasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm-"

"Hey, easy. Don't you dare apologize for this."

Sitting up completely, he quickly snaked his arms around Max, pulling her closer and burying his face into her neck. He tried to control his breathing, but his entire body was shaking too hard for him to focus.

"Shhh…" Max hushed sweetly, running her hands over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck and back a few times.

The gesture was simple, but effective. He focused intently on the dainty hands on his shoulders, taking in deeper, more focused breaths, each of which smelled distinctly like her.

"Vanilla," he thought to himself, using the thought to clear out others.

"Look at me," she insisted, gently tilting his head back, "It's just a dream. It's over. You're okay. We're okay."

In another moment, he'd sufficiently calmed down, as the shaking dissipated back down to just his hands.

"I'm...very sorry," he sighed, "Did I wake you?"

"No," she smiled softly, hoping the sight would cheer him up, "I was up already."

He nodded weakly, happy that this wasn't the first thing she'd started the day with.

"I made you some coffee. Medium roast with cinnamon."

The combination of her sweet voice and the promise of coffee brought him out of his daze, as his eyes really focused back to reality.

"That sounds...perfect."

Honestly, she was just filled with questions at the moment, but, if he was going to tell her about it, he would do so in his own time. For now, she let a normal thing like coffee act as an anchor, pulling the two away from the problem and back to morning.

"But first," he asked, looking at the cooling sweat still lingering on his arms, "Can I have the use of your shower?"

"Of course."

She easily climbed back off of his lap, standing beside the bed. As he stood and was about to head toward the bathroom, he paused, turning toward Max and putting a hand on her arm.

"Thank you."

She placed a gentle peck on his lips in reply, noting that he seemed to calm even more at the gesture.

"Go wash up. I believe I still promised Sunday breakfast."

Stephen let the hot water pour over his face, providing some tangible anchor to his environment. He couldn't tell which part he hated more: the fact that he'd let everything build up so much that it affected him so terribly or the fact that he'd let Max see this broken, weaker side of him. He never wanted her to see just how heavy the weight was, but it had only been a matter of time. The most surprising thing was that it didn't bother her or, if it did, she didn't show it. She had stayed calm and steady, perhaps knowing that calm and steady were the exact things he'd needed from her. Now that he thought about it, not one strange or bizarre thing that his life ever threw at her phased her. She was never scared and never weirded out by any of it. With each new change, she took in in stride, accepting it readily as what it was: another part of his crazy, often unexplainable life. The house, the magic, the nightmares, and not even the sentient Cloak of Levitation ever bothered her in the slightest. He was beginning to think that the thing he understood least in his life might just be Margaret Stark.

As he looked in the mirror, he closely examined the dark stubble growing in on his face. It didn't look terrible, but, for a perfectionist like he was most days, it would have to go. He looked down to his hands, watching them shake even more violently than usual. Well, that was out of the question. The scruff would have to stay for now.

"Oh, great," he grumbled.

A gentle knock on the door pulled his attention away.

"Come in, if you want," he offered, double checking the towel securely around his waist to avoid any further embarrassing moments for today.

Max slowly opened the door, stepping in with the same duffel bag in hand from yesterday. Setting it on the toilet lid by the sink, she pulled out a small shaving kit.

"I wasn't sure, but I thought i'd offer it," she shrugged.

"Thank you, but...I can't."

"I bought all this stuff for days like this. It's no pro-"

"No, I mean I can't."

She looked at the fierce trembling in his hands, taking one of them into both of her hands and gently massaging at the wrist.

"Still kinda anxious?"

"Uh...yeah."

He took a silent moment to enjoy the relaxing pressure on his wrist, marvelling at how steady and careful she was.

"Well...can I help?"

"With what? Shaving?"

"Mmhm," she nodded, "I don't mean to seem weird or anything, but I'm pretty good at it."

"Okay, now I just have questions."

"Alright, so Tony's one of my best friends," she explained, "He comes to me as a complete wreck most of the time. One time recently, he hurt his arm pretty badly in a fight. It was in a sling for a few weeks at least. Not wanting my friend, boss, and father to look completely homeless for a public event coming up, I learned how I could help. I'm no professional stylist, but it turns out that it's not very hard and I really enjoy it. It's relaxing to me. Is...is that weird?"

"Really? You're asking me if something's weird?" he chuckled, "It's sweet, sure. Thoughtful, but not weird."

"So?"

"So, yes. Please."

"Here," she sighed, hopping up to sit on the edge of the vanity next to the sink.

She filled the sink with some hot water and got to work. As she gently applied the shaving foam to his face, he couldn't help but to watch her, finding himself once again mesmerized by her simple, normal actions. It was the small things she did that always fascinated him the most. The way she got way too excited about things before she'd start talking too fast and using her hands to further convey meaning. The way she hummed when she buzzed around the kitchen while cooking. The way that she cradled hot drinks in two hands and sipped at them slowly. The way that she could put her natural introverted tendencies aside when she had to, to help people that sometimes she didn't even know or like, just because she cared so damn much about people and about helping. His new favorite was definitely becoming the way her eyes become so fixated on him as she gently drug the razor over his skin.

"You are very good at this," he agreed.

"I have to be careful though," she sighed.

"Why's that?"

"I could easily cut the razor on cheekbones like that."

Her teasing joke resulted in a small smile spreading across her face. He let out a light chuckle, trying very carefully to not move his face too much to distract her. When she was finished, she took a wet washcloth to wipe off any excess foam. She followed that up with a hot, dry towel to gently dry his face, before running her fingers over the now smooth skin on either side of his beard.

"All done. How's it look?"

"Well…" he cleared his throat a bit, looking in the mirror, "I'm going to need you to do that every time from now on."

"That's good then," she chuckled, "And that's really not a bad deal. I'll do it any time you want."

She moved on from his face to reach back into the bag and pull out a comb, working quickly and skillfully to put his messy, post-shower hair back in order. She memorized what look he liked to maintain, so it wasn't difficult for her in the slightest.

"There you go. Devilishly handsome as ever."

"Kiss me," he requested, looking up at her slightly elevated place on the sink.

Without question, she gently ran her fingers along his jaw and leaned in to place a slow soft kiss on his lips.

"It's official," he noted afterwards, in a playful tone, "I've finally found someone who is way too good for me and somehow stays with me anyway."

"I could have told you that, genius," she smirked with a wink.

She used his shoulders for balance as she hopped down from her seat, placing another kiss on the side of his face before walking out.
"I'm gonna need my shirt back," he called after her.

She gave him her best supervillain laugh in response.

He walked into the kitchen shortly after, dressed in his own clothing once more, minus the stolen shirt. Allowing himself another moment to stare, he watched as Max hummed and danced around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for two, all in his oversized shirt. It was this particular moment that, if he wasn't sure before, he was sure now. He loved this woman.

"There you are," she beamed at him, "Have a seat. I'll fix your coffee."

Max's kitchen was fairly open, with a half wall being the only thing dividing it from the living room. The "L" shaped partial wall had a segment with stools on both sides, allowing it to double as the kitchen table. Almost as soon as Stephen sat down, a mug of coffee and a plate with a fresh omelette were set in front of him.

"Ta da!"

After setting her own food down, the two were finally able to enjoy a meal together.

After breakfast, Stephen jumped at the chance to clear the dishes before Max got up, having felt a little helpless that morning. Not that he minded when Max wanted to help with something. He just wanted to return the favor in what ways he could. As he did that, Max disappeared down the hallway for a minute, returning later in a pair of dark jeans and a black Nirvana t-shirt. She handed him his shirt back.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"I can't say that it was much of a sacrifice to watch you dance around in my clothes. You clearly look much better in them than I do."

He slid the shirt on over his arms, but Max stopped him after that, silently stepping in to button the shirt herself.

"You know, I can do some things on my own."

"Oh, I know," she sighed, "But me helping you isn't for your benefit. I just really like it. It's...stable, I guess. Normal."

She buttoned the shirt, straightened the collar, and re-rolled the sleeves neatly a few times.

"I get that," he agreed, before a pause, "Maggie...about this morning…"

"If you apologize for that nightmare one more time, I might smack you."

"Can I say thank you, then?"

"For what?"

"For taking it so well when anyone else might have freaked out."

"You know, you're so good at what you do that I sometimes forget how new you are at all this."

"Excuse me?" he huffed with a raised eyebrow.

"I just mean that it's cute."

"Cute?"

"Cute that you think, even for a second, you're the only hero to deal with all of this. To be woken up by the terrors they've dealt with."

"This is a bit different from-"

"Is it?" she cut him off, "Stephen, you're an amazing man. You've seen and dealt with more than anyone else would ever be able to handle. Honestly, it's ridiculous how much grace and patience you have to handle everything life throws at you. You shouldn't apologize for moments when all of that catches up with you."

He was silent for a moment, watching the delicate hand tracing up and down his arm.

"Everyone has their own demons, Strange," she went on, "Yours might be more literal than most, but everyone has them. I've seen this so much that I have to remind myself of what it all means. I've been around this tangled web for so long. I've woken up to screaming more times than I can count. I've had grown men, warriors, soldiers, "gods" crumble to pieces in front of me, because, dammit, sometimes the weight of the world is just too much! So, I guess what I'm saying is...don't you ever ever apologize to me when that weight catches up with you. I know what I signed up for when I met you, and I don't regret that for a second!"

"It is," he sighed quietly, "It's...heavier than I thought."

"Then it's a damn good thing you don't have to carry it alone, isn't it?"

He pulled her close to his chest to simply hold her. Immediately relaxing into the embrace, she nuzzled into his chest slightly and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

"You're right. I am still getting used to this. Sometimes...I'm so new to this that I forget that you aren't."

"I want to help more," she admitted, "But I just can't. I can't help fight your demons. All I can do is be here after the fight's over. It feels so helpless."

He thought for a moment, before remembering.

"We can't destroy our demons. We can only learn how to live above them. You help me do just that. That's more than I can ever ask of you, but you don't hesitate. You have no idea how important you are to me."

As she pulled away, a single tear rolled down her face. He quickly brushed it away from her face and smiled down at her.

"Let's start by taking a well earned day, huh?"

She nodded in agreement, letting her smile return to her face.

"I've got some ideas for today that I think you're going to like," he grinned.