[Perspective: Wanda Maximoff]
"It is... a house," she breathed, walking to the center of the suite. "Inside a plane."
"I told you," Aryan said, stepping in behind her and pressing a button on the wall. The heavy wooden doors slid shut, sealing them inside their own private sanctuary. The noise of the airport vanished completely. "We are traveling in style."
"This is too much," she said, running her hand over the supple leather of the armchair. "It is too extravagant."
"There is no such thing as too much for you," he said simply, walking over to stand beside her.
There was a soft knock on the sliding door.
Aryan pressed the button to open it.
Thomas was standing there, holding a silver tray with two folded towels and a bottle of sparkling water.
"I apologize for the intrusion," Thomas said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he set the tray onto the polished vanity. He looked at Aryan, then at Wanda, his professional facade slipping just a fraction. "I just... I have to say, before we take off. My husband and I watched the news clip of you two in the park. It was the most beautiful thing we've seen on television in a long time."
Wanda looked at Aryan.
Aryan smiled. "Thank you, Thomas. That means a lot to us."
"If it isn't too bold," Thomas asked, pulling a small bound notepad and a silver pen from his breast pocket. "Could I possibly get an autograph? For my husband? His name is David."
"Of course," Wanda said, stepping forward.
She took the pen. She carefully wrote, 'To David, with warmest wishes. - Wanda Maximoff.'
She handed the pen to Aryan. He wrote his name beneath hers, adding a terrible drawing of a stethoscope next to his signature.
Thomas looked at the notepad, beaming. "Thank you both. I will leave you to settle in. You will find the dining menus in the leather folios beside your seats. Please press the call button whenever you are ready to order."
The doors slid shut again.
"A stethoscope?" Wanda teased, looking at Aryan. "You are an artist now?"
"I am a man of many talents," he defended, sinking into the right side armchair. He picked up the heavy leather folio. "Now, come sit. We have culinary decisions to make. The flight is nine hours. I plan to eat for at least three of them."
Wanda sat down in the left armchair. It was impossibly soft. She picked up her own menu.
"What would you like to eat and all?" Aryan asked, flipping the heavy parchment pages. "They have a caviar service. I don't even like caviar, but I feel compelled to order it."
Wanda scanned the menu. It read like a restaurant in a foreign capital.
"I think..." she hesitated, reading the descriptions. "I would like the herb crusted lamb rack. With the roasted root vegetables."
"Lamb," Aryan nodded approvingly. "Excellent choice. I am going to go with the pan seared pork belly with the apple cider glaze. And maybe the truffle mashed potatoes. Because we are in the sky and calories don't count above thirty thousand feet."
They pressed the call button. Thomas took their orders with a polite bow.
Twenty minutes later, the plane began to move. Wanda looked out the mechanized window, watching the lights of the runway slide past. The heavy thrust of the engines pushed her back into the leather seat.
As the plane lifted off the ground, climbing sharply into the night sky, she didn't feel the usual anxiety of travel. She felt entirely safe, enclosed in this wooden box with the man she loved.
The dinner service was an event.
Thomas set up a large dining table between their two seats, covering it with a crisp white linen tablecloth. He brought out real porcelain plates, heavy silver cutlery and crystal glasses.
Wanda took a bite of her lamb. It was perfectly cooked, melting in her mouth.
"This is better than most restaurants," she noted, taking a sip of sparkling water.
"Try the pork belly," Aryan offered, slicing a piece off his own plate and holding his fork across the table.
She leaned forward, taking the bite. The sweet and savory glaze was intense.
"Delicious," she murmured.
"Not bad for airplane food," he agreed, chewing happily.
They spent the next hour eating, sharing bites of their meals and talking about nothing in particular.
Aryan complained about the movie selection on the massive screen. "Why do they only have sad indie films? I want to watch something explode."
Wanda laughed, watching him debate the merits of romantic comedies versus action thrillers.
When the plates were finally cleared away, the cabin lights dimmed automatically, simulating the night sky with tiny optic stars embedded in the ceiling.
"I am... very full," Wanda admitted, leaning back in her chair.
"That was the goal," Aryan said. He pressed the call button again.
When Thomas appeared, Aryan smiled. "Thomas, we are ready to turn in. Could you do the honors?"
"Certainly, Dr. Spencer," Thomas said.
Wanda watched in amazement as Thomas pressed a sequence of buttons on the wall panel. The heavy leather armchairs began to recline.
But they didn't just recline, they flattened completely. The center partition between the two seats descended, sinking into the floor.
Within two minutes, Thomas had laid a memory foam mattress pad over the flattened seats, covering it with crisp white sheets and a down filled duvet.
The two separate chairs had transformed into a luxurious double bed.
"Your bed is ready," Thomas whispered, dimming the lights even further. "Have a wonderful rest."
The doors slid shut.
Wanda stared at the bed. It spanned the entire width of their suite.
"A bed," she whispered. "We have a bed in the sky."
"I told you to trust the logistics," Aryan said, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the mattress. He patted the empty space beside him. "Come here. The sheets are ridiculous."
Wanda kicked off her sneakers. She crawled onto the mattress, sliding under the heavy duvet. It was soft, smelling faintly of lavender.
Aryan immediately shifted, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, letting out a contented sigh.
Wanda rested her head on his shoulder, tangling her legs with his.
"Aryan," she whispered into the quiet suite.
"Hmm?"
"You don't have to spend that much," she said softly, tracing the line of his collarbone through his t-shirt. "This... this is too much money. We could have sat in the normal seats. I would be happy anywhere, as long as you are there."
She felt his chest vibrate with a rumbling laugh.
"Wanda," he said, his hand coming up to stroke the hair at the nape of her neck. "What is the point of having it, if not to spend it? What is the point of earning, if we cannot make ourselves comfortable?"
He tilted his head down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I spent years looking at a bank account that didn't mean anything to me," he whispered, his voice losing the joking tone, becoming honest. "I have enough money to buy the airplane, Wanda. But the only thing of value in this entire universe is you. So yes, I am going to buy the giant bed in the sky. Because you deserve the giant bed in the sky."
Wanda's eyes filled with sudden tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face tighter against his neck.
"You are ridiculous," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"I am practical," he corrected, pulling the duvet up higher over her shoulder. "Now, close your eyes. We have eight hours of flight time. And when we wake up, we will be in Italy."
"Italy," she murmured.
"Yes. Now sleep. That is an order from your doctor."
Wanda smiled against his skin.
She listened to the quiet hum of the jet engines, feeling the rhythmic vibration of the plane pushing through the atmosphere. But louder than the engines was the steady beat of Aryan's heart against her cheek.
She wrapped her arm tighter around his waist, anchoring herself to him as they flew across the world.
Within minutes, surrounded by the scent of his skin and the soft lavender of the sheets, Wanda Maximoff fell into the peaceful sleep.