[It's rare that Pietro sleeps deeply enough to not notice when Wanda moves at all, let alone ventures out to the kitchen and back, trying to be quiet on creaky wooden floorboards. This morning is one of those times, the need to recharge from too much energy output over the last days catching up, and he doesn't so much as twitch the entire time she's gone about sneaking around. Even when she crawls over him, he doesn't move or squirm away. The soft and slow stroke of her fingertips along his ear, in his hair making his scalp tingle - that's what draws him out of it, a low noise of annoyance, snaking one arm out from under the blanket, gently batting away her hand.]
Don't do that.
[Gravelly and low, but a weak protest, because now he's awake and won't be able to sleep again. With an exaggerated sigh, Pietro shifts around in irritated little movements until he's propping himself up on one elbow, looking up at her with a put-upon glare that has more softness than edge.]
Happy Birthday.
[He is absolutely taking the opportunity to say it first, even if it sounds too quick and perfunctory while he wipes a line of drool from his beard with his thumb. He frowns and reaches with that same hand to finger a lock of her hair.]
no subject
Don't do that.
[Gravelly and low, but a weak protest, because now he's awake and won't be able to sleep again. With an exaggerated sigh, Pietro shifts around in irritated little movements until he's propping himself up on one elbow, looking up at her with a put-upon glare that has more softness than edge.]
Happy Birthday.
[He is absolutely taking the opportunity to say it first, even if it sounds too quick and perfunctory while he wipes a line of drool from his beard with his thumb. He frowns and reaches with that same hand to finger a lock of her hair.]
Is that a grey hair? You're getting old, Wanda.