Rowan Family Apartment
Friday night, three weeks post-Roosevelt
Movie night had rules now.
Eli picks the documentary (tonight: Blue Planet II).Volume never above 28.Everyone sits on the big sectional in the exact order Eli assigned (Jean left corner, Carol right corner, Jen floor cushion, Gwen and MJ on either side of Eli, Elena wherever she wanted because she was Elena).No one talks over David Attenborough except Jen, who was allowed one (1) impression per episode.
Peter was on snack duty because someone had to be the neutral party, and that someone was definitely not him tonight.
He was currently in the kitchen pretending to refill popcorn while actually having a quiet panic attack into a bag of M&Ms.
Because the living room had gone… weird.
It started innocently enough.
Halfway through the segment on deep-sea jellyfish, Eli got overwhelmed by the bioluminescence (too bright, too much movement). He made the small distressed noise that meant shutdown imminent.
Elena didn't even look away from the screen. She simply opened her arms.
Eli crawled across the sectional like it was the most natural thing in the world, curled up in his mother's lap, and buried his face directly in her chest.
Not like a little kid hiding.
Like a boyfriend who had done this a thousand times.
Elena wrapped her arms around him, one hand stroking his hair, the other resting possessively on his lower back. She pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head and murmured something in Spanish too low for anyone else to catch.
Eli sighed, whole body going lax, and nuzzled closer.
Peter dropped the M&Ms.
The harem froze.
Jean's Phoenix flickered between protective and deeply confused.
Carol's binary aura stuttered like a bad fluorescent.
Jen's jaw actually dropped.
Gwen and MJ exchanged a look that said we have always known this was a thing but holy shit it's a thing in front of the Avengers now.
Elena didn't notice (or pretended not to). She just kept stroking Eli's hair, rocking him gently, humming the same lullaby she'd used when he was four and the subway lights were too loud.
Eli made a small, content sound and mumbled, voice muffled against her, "Love you, baby."
The room went so quiet the narrator's voice sounded like a gunshot.
Peter walked in carrying the popcorn bowl like a shield.
He took one look at Eli practically purring in his mother's cleavage, Elena's hand dangerously low on his back, and promptly turned around and walked back out.
"Nope," he said to the empty kitchen. "Nope nope nope. I'm fifteen. I cannot process this. I'm going to go fight Doctor Octopus again. That was easier."
Inside the living room, the silence stretched.
Then Carol, voice strangled, asked the question everyone was thinking.
"Elena… what… what exactly is your relationship with your son?"
Elena looked up slowly. Her expression was serene. Terrifyingly serene.
"I am his mother," she said, as if that explained everything. "I am his safe place. His first love. His always love. That is how it works in our family."
She pressed another kiss to Eli's temple. He smiled in his sleep, arms tightening around her waist.
Jean tried very hard to be the mature one. "That's… that's very culturally specific bonding, I'm sure, but—"
Elena tilted her head. "Jean. Mija. When he was six, he proposed to me with a Ring Pop. I said yes. We have been married in his head for nine years. You are all very lovely, but you are the mistresses. I am the wife."
Gwen made a noise like a dying mouse.
MJ just nodded slowly. "Yeah, that tracks."
Jen looked like she was calculating how many laws of physics she would need to break to escape this conversation.
Carol's brain had blue-screened so hard she was literally glowing.
Elena continued, perfectly calm, "He will outgrow the intensity. Eventually. But right now, this is what he needs. This is what keeps him regulated. And I will give my son whatever he needs, always."
She shifted slightly, adjusting Eli so his head rested more comfortably against her chest. He made a happy little sound and burrowed closer.
Peter walked back in, took one look, and sat down hard on the floor.
"I quit life," he announced to the ceiling. "I'm moving to Canada. With Flash."
Elena smiled at him. "Pedro, mijo, bring the blanket. He'll get cold."
Peter obeyed automatically. Because no one disobeyed Elena Rowan. Not even reality.
He draped the weighted blanket over Eli and Elena both. Eli sighed in bliss, completely enveloped in his mother's arms and scent and heartbeat.
Carol watched them with an expression caught between heartbreak and understanding.
Jean's Phoenix settled on the back of the couch, looking oddly resigned.
Jen finally spoke, voice soft. "We get it. We do. He's yours first. Always."
Elena's smile turned gentle. "Good girls."
She looked at each of them in turn—five women who could destroy planets, all sitting very still under the weight of one mother's love.
"There is room," she said again, like she had the first time. "But the order is set. You come after me. That is non-negotiable."
No one argued.
Eli stirred, blinked awake, and smiled sleepily up at his mom.
"Hi, baby," he mumbled, and kissed her collarbone exactly where he always did.
Elena kissed his forehead. "Hi, esposo."
Peter made a strangled noise and buried his face in a throw pillow.
The harem looked at each other.
Then, slowly, one by one, they moved closer—forming a protective ring around the couch, around Elena, around Eli.
Because some things were bigger than jealousy.
Some loves were older than galaxies.
And Elena Rowan's love for her son was the first and fiercest of them all.
The documentary played on.
David Attenborough talked about mating dances and lifelong bonds.
Nobody changed the channel.
End of Chapter 6