The Next Morning
"Storm, wake up! It's already late!"
Storm woke up to a very familiar shout, one that had greeted her almost every morning for the past three years. The sound of Elric's voice calling for her had become as natural as breathing, a comfort she'd come to depend on without even realizing it.
She groggily got down from the bed, still half-asleep, her white hair falling messily around her shoulders. The moment her bare feet touched the wooden floor beneath her, the unfamiliar texture—smoother, different from the rough stone floors of their temporary shelters during their travels—instantly reminded her of where she was now.
She paused for a moment, reality settling over her like a weight. Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed frame as memories of the past two days washed over her—the hollow feeling in her chest, the loneliness despite being surrounded by people, the irrational fear that she'd lost something precious before she'd even had the chance to claim it.
"Don't be lazy, dude!" Elric's voice called again from outside her room, carefree and teasing, so achingly familiar. "Come here to eat! Breakfast is getting cold! I made those scrambled eggs you like!"
That tone. That casual affection.
She didn't hesitate anymore.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she got dressed quickly—just simple clothes, nothing fancy—and walked outside to the main room.
No, nothing fundamental has changed, she told herself firmly as she moved through the cabin. It doesn't matter what relationships Elric has in this world, whatever history he's built here over the years. It's still the same familiar Elric I've come to... to care about over the past three years.
She paused mid-step at that thought, her hand resting on the doorframe.
Care about. What a weak way to describe it.
Love, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. You've come to love him.
That was what mattered, she decided. Not the fear, not the uncertainty. Just that simple truth.
At the Breakfast Table
The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting golden light across the simple wooden table. Elric had outdone himself—there were scrambled eggs, fresh bread that smelled like he'd baked it himself, some kind of local fruit she didn't recognize, and two steaming cups of tea.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the kind of quiet that only came from years of companionship. Storm watched him from across the table, noting the little things—how he always took smaller bites when eating with others even though she'd seen him devour food like a starving wolf when alone, how he'd positioned her cup just slightly to the right because he'd learned she was left-handed, how his eyes would occasionally dart to her face as if checking to make sure she was really there.
Her heart clenched painfully in her chest.
"Elric," Storm said suddenly, setting down her fork. Her voice cut through the casual morning atmosphere like a knife. "You like me, right?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Elric's hand paused mid-motion, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened slightly—surprise, then something that looked almost like panic flickering across his face.
"Storm, I—" he began, but his voice caught.
Before he could formulate an answer, before he could figure out how to respond or deflect or make some joke to diffuse the tension, Storm continued speaking. Her hands were trembling slightly, but her voice remained steady.
"And don't try to deny it," she said, her striking white eyes meeting his directly, unflinchingly. "I could feel it these past three years. Every glance that lasted too long, every time you'd position yourself between me and danger without thinking, every time you'd remember some small detail I'd mentioned once in passing. I'm not blind, Elric."
Elric set down his fork slowly, his usual carefree expression fading into something more serious, more vulnerable.
"I can understand why you held back before," Storm continued, and now her voice did waver slightly, emotion bleeding through. "I've thought about it constantly these past two days. You were obviously planning to come back to your own world eventually. This was always temporary for you."
"And you weren't sure whether I would come with you or not," she said softly. "You didn't want complications. Didn't want to start something that might have to end painfully when you returned home. I understand that. It's logical. Practical."
She took a shaky breath. "But there's nothing like that now. All those barriers, all those reasons to hold back—they're gone."
"I'm here," Storm said, her voice gaining strength. "In your world."
"Yes," Elric said quietly, the single word falling between them like a stone into still water. "I like you. More than like you, if I'm being honest. But—"
Storm didn't wait for him to finish. Didn't wait for him to list whatever practical concerns or logical arguments he was about to present. She'd spent two days drowning in uncertainty and fear, and she was done with hesitation.
She directly stood up and jumped over the small table between them in one fluid motion, scattering plates and cups. The breakfast crashed to the floor—rice, eggs, fruit, all of it spreading across the wooden planks in a mess of color and broken ceramics.
"Dude! It took me an hour to make that—" Elric protested instinctively, his eyes going to the ruined food with genuine dismay.
Before he could finish his complaint, before he could say another word, Storm cupped his face in both hands and pressed her lips against his.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if she half-expected him to push her away. But when he didn't, when instead his arms came up to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, she deepened the kiss.
Elric's mind went blank, all his carefully constructed reasons and logical arguments evaporating like morning mist.
This is a bad idea, some distant part of his brain tried to argue. This complicates everything. You have responsibilities here, people depending on you, and what about—
He stopped thinking altogether and kissed her back, his hands sliding up her back to tangle in her white hair.
Storm made a small sound—relief, joy, desire all mixed together—and shifted to sit properly in his lap, her legs on either side of him. The chair creaked under their combined weight but held.
When they finally broke apart for air, both breathing hard, Storm rested her forehead against his.
"I was so scared," she whispered, her eyes still closed. "These past two days, I kept thinking... what if there's someone else here? Someone who knew you first, who has more claim to you than I do? What if I waited too long and lost my chance?"
"There's no one else," Elric said quietly, his thumbs stroking small circles on her back. "Not like this. Not..."
This time it was Storm who cut him off with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, full of promise.
....
Wanda had lain awake most of the night, Pietro's words circling endlessly through her mind like vultures.
Three years. Two women. Living together. Who knows what might have happened...
She'd told herself repeatedly that it didn't matter. That Elric was free to do whatever—or whoever—he wanted. That she had no claim on him, no right to feel this burning jealousy in her chest.
So she'd decided to check on him first thing in the morning. Not because she was jealous, she told herself firmly. Just because... because she wanted to. Because she hadn't seen him in a few days. Because breakfast together was a normal thing they did sometimes.
Nothing weird about it.
She'd worn her favorite red dress—purely coincidental. And maybe put on a bit of makeup—just to look presentable. And perhaps chosen a perfume Elric had once casually mentioned smelled nice—completely unrelated to her reasons for visiting.
"Elric?" she called out while opening the front door, not bothering to knock. She'd been coming to this cabin for years now—formality seemed silly at this point. They were comfortable with each other.
But she suddenly froze in the doorway, her hand still on the door handle, her eyes widening in absolute shock.
In front of her, clearly visible in the morning light streaming through the windows, that white-haired woman—Storm—was sitting in Elric's lap. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were kissing with an intensity that made it very clear this wasn't some casual, friendly peck.
This was passion. This was intimacy. This was everything Wanda had been too afraid to reach for.
The world seemed to slow down. Wanda could see every detail with painful clarity—how Storm's fingers tangled in Elric's hair, how his hands gripped her waist, how they fit together like they'd done this a thousand times before.
CRACK!
The door knob in Wanda's hand directly shattered, crushed to powder by her unconscious grip. Her crimson chaos energy suddenly erupted around her, swirling wildly, distorting the air itself and making the walls of the cabin groan under the reality-warping pressure.
Elric is not my boyfriend, she told herself frantically, desperately, trying to rationalize the overwhelming rage and hurt burning in her chest. He's not mine. I have no right to feel this way. So it doesn't matter what he does. He's free. He's—
But the thoughts felt hollow, meaningless in the face of what she was feeling.
He's my benefactor, she continued the internal argument, grasping for any logical framework to contain the chaos inside her. He rescued Pietro and me from that hell on Earth during the civil war. He gave us a home when we had nothing, gave us food when we were starving, gave us purpose when we felt lost. And more than that, he shared his power with us—gave us the ability to protect ourselves and others.
So when Elric finds someone, when he finds happiness, I should be happy for him, she told herself, the thought bitter as poison.
But why wasn't she happy?
Why was this uncontrollable anger rising in her heart like a wildfire, threatening to consume everything? Why did her chest feel like someone had reached in and crushed her heart in their fist? Why did she want to scream and cry and tear the whole world apart?
Because you love him, you idiot, a voice whispered in her mind. Because you've been in love with him for months and you were too scared to do anything about it, and now someone else was brave enough to take what you wanted.
Hearing the sound of shattering wood and crackling energy, the two people on the chair also stopped their movement and looked up.
Their eyes met Wanda's.
For a moment, nobody moved. The three of them frozen in this terrible tableau—Storm still in Elric's lap, Elric's hands still on her waist, Wanda standing in the doorway with chaos magic swirling around her like a storm.
"Wanda—" Elric started, his voice strangled.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as the chaos energy intensified, starting to crack the wooden floorboards.
Looking at the chaos energy that was expanding at a crazy speed, swirling around Wanda like a tornado of reality-warping power and genuine hurt, Elric's mind raced.
Say something. Explain. Fix this. You're supposed to be smart, so think—
But he couldn't think rationally anymore. His mind was already heated from kissing Storm, his heart was pounding, adrenaline flooding his system. The logical part of his brain—the part that usually kept him from making impulsive decisions—had shut down completely.
So Elric did the only thing that made sense in that moment, the only thing his instincts and his heart were screaming at him to do, consequences be damned.
He gently moved Storm off his lap—she made a small sound of protest but let him—and in three quick strides crossed the distance to Wanda.
Before she could react, before she could unleash the chaos magic building around her or run away or say something cutting, he directly pulled her forward by her wrist and kissed her firmly on the lips.
Wanda's eyes flew wide open in shock.
Feeling the soft touch, the warmth, and the very familiar scent entering through her nose—that mix of wood smoke and old books and something uniquely Elric that she'd memorized without meaning to—Wanda's mind suddenly went completely blank.
The chaos energy sputtered and died, dispersing into the air like smoke.
For a heartbeat, she stood frozen, her brain unable to process what was happening.
Then something inside her broke—or maybe it was something that had been locked away finally opening—and her eyes fluttered closed.
She kissed him back desperately, hungrily, pouring months of suppressed longing into it. Her hands came up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, and she made a small sound that was half-sob, half-moan.
This kiss was different from the one with Storm—less tender, more frantic. Like drowning people gasping for air. Like something that had been denied too long finally being allowed.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Wanda's eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.
"You—" she started, her voice shaky. "You can't just—I thought—"
He trailed off, because how could he explain? How could he put into words that he'd been attracted to both of them for different reasons, had developed feelings for both of them, but had been too much of a coward to address it?
Behind them, Storm stood up slowly from the chair, her expression unreadable.
The three of them formed a triangle in the small cabin, the wreckage of breakfast scattered on the floor between them, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows making everything feel surreal.
"So," Storm said finally, her voice carefully controlled. "I see."
"Storm, I—" Elric began, turning toward her.
"Don't," Storm cut him off, holding up a hand. "Just... don't."
She looked at Wanda, really looked at her for the first time. Saw the tears threatening to fall, the chaos magic still flickering faintly around her fingers, the way she was looking at Elric like he was her entire world.
Storm recognized that look. Because she'd seen it in the mirror these past few days.
"How long?" Storm asked quietly.
"What?" Wanda blinked, confused.
"How long have you been in love with him?"
The blunt question hung in the air. Wanda's face flushed red, but she didn't deny it.
"Months," she whispered. "Maybe... maybe almost a year. I don't know when it started exactly. It just... grew."
Storm nodded slowly, then turned to Elric. "And you? How do you feel?"
Elric ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't know," he admitted honestly."
"Coward," Storm said, but there was no real heat in it.
"Yeah," Elric agreed. "I know."
Another long silence.
"So what now?" Wanda asked, her voice small. "I can... I can leave. If you two want to—"
"No," Storm and Elric said simultaneously.
Wanda looked up, startled.
Storm sighed deeply, a long exhale that seemed to carry years of exhaustion. "Look, I'm not... happy about this situation. At all. In fact, I kind of want to call down lightning and electrocute both of you right now."
"But," she continued, meeting Wanda's eyes, "I also spent three years traveling with this idiot. I know what it's like to care about him. To want to be near him even when he's being stupid."
Wanda stared at her, then at Elric, then back at Storm.
"Are you suggesting..." Wanda started, unable to finish the sentence.
"I don't know what I'm suggesting," Storm said, frustration bleeding into her voice. I just know that I'm not willing to give him up, and apparently neither are you."
"And he's apparently too much of an idiot to choose," she added, glaring at Elric.
"Hey—" Elric protested weakly.
"Shut up," both women said in unison.
Despite everything, despite the tension and the confusion and the emotional chaos, that made all three of them crack small, surprised smiles.
"This is insane," Wanda said, but she wasn't letting go of Elric's shirt.
"Completely insane," Storm agreed, but she stepped closer rather than leaving.
"So... we're doing this?" Elric asked carefully. "Whatever 'this' is?"
"Apparently," Storm said.
"I guess," Wanda added.
The Next Morning
Elric woke up slowly, consciousness returning in pieces.
The first thing he became aware of was warmth—soft, comfortable warmth on both sides of him.
The second thing was the scent of flowers and rain on his left—Storm's natural scent.
The third was the subtle hint of cinnamon and something sweeter on his right—Wanda's perfume.
Opening his eyes fully, looking at the two women sleeping peacefully on either side of him—Storm on his left with her white hair spread across the pillow like snow, Wanda on his right with her dark hair tangled and her face relaxed in sleep—Elric felt a complex mix of emotions.
Contentment. Fear. Happiness. Anxiety.
Fuck.
What had he done?
Last night had been... intense. After the confrontation, after they'd awkwardly agreed to try to make this work, tensions had remained high. Storm and Wanda had circled each other like wary cats, neither willing to back down, neither wanting to give ground.
And somehow, that competitive energy had transformed into something else entirely.
Storm had kissed him first, probably trying to stake a claim. Then Wanda had pulled him into another kiss, not wanting to be outdone. And then things had escalated—hands wandering, clothes coming off, the three of them tumbling into his bed in a tangle of limbs and heat and desperation.
It had been awkward at first—nobody quite knowing where to put their hands, uncertain about boundaries and comfort levels. But it had also been amazing in a way Elric hadn't expected. The way Storm and Wanda had eventually stopped competing and started working together, the way they'd learned each other's bodies alongside his, the way passion had given way to genuine tenderness near the end.
And afterward, lying there with both of them curled against him, listening to their breathing slow and deepen as they fell asleep, Elric had felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Complete.
But now, in the harsh light of morning, reality was setting in.
This wasn't going to be simple.
As if sensing his thoughts, Wanda stirred against his side, her eyes fluttering open.
"Stop overthinking," she murmured sleepily, her voice rough. "I can practically hear your brain going into overdrive."
"Hard not to overthink this situation," Elric replied quietly, not wanting to wake Storm yet.
"Mmm," Wanda made a noncommittal sound, then propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "Do you regret it?"
"No," Elric said immediately, honestly. "Do you?"
Wanda was quiet for a moment, considering. "Ask me again in a week," she finally said. "Right now I'm still processing."
"Fair enough."
On his other side, Storm also began to wake, stretching languidly like a cat.
"Morning," she said, her voice neutral.
"Morning," Elric and Wanda replied simultaneously.
An awkward silence fell over the bed.
"So," Storm said eventually, sitting up and pulling the sheet with her to cover herself. "We should probably talk about... this."
"Probably," Wanda agreed, also sitting up.
Elric found himself lying between two beautiful, naked women who were both looking at him expectantly, and somehow this felt more terrifying than facing down cosmic threats.
"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's talk."
Present Day - Conference Room
As a result of everything that had happened, although he'd slept with both Storm and Wanda—and they'd eventually decided after much argument and some tearful conversations that it was better to share him than give him up to the other person—it wasn't like they actually liked each other.
If anything, the arrangement had made them more competitive with each other, not less.
Every interaction became a subtle contest. Who could make him laugh more? Who understood him better? Who could catch his attention? Who was better in bed? Who he thought about more when they weren't together?
They were polite to each other in public, professional even. But there was an undercurrent of tension that everyone in their inner circle could sense even if they didn't understand the source.
"It's really troublesome," Elric sighed aloud without meaning to, rubbing his temples where a headache was forming.
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