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Billy Maximoff hated mind reading.
He really hated it.
People liked to romanticize telepathy pretend it was some noble gift, a tool for understanding and connection. But Billy knew better. In practice, it was like standing in a crowded subway station during rush hour with every commuter shouting directly into your skull.
Sure, he could quiet it when he tried. He’d trained himself to dull the noise, narrow his focus to one person if he needed to. But even that took effort, a constant hum of concentration that drained him. The worst part was when he forgot to maintain it when his guard slipped for a moment. Then the world’s thoughts came roaring back in, crashing against his mind in a wave that made his temples throb.
He’d had headaches ever since moving into the Tower with the rest of the Young Avengers. At first, Billy blamed Peter. It made sense Peter’s mind was a kaleidoscope of overlapping thoughts, words tripping over one another like tangled webbing. ADHD, autism, Ptsd whatever it was, Peter Parker’s brain was a noise machine with no off switch.
But then Peter got back on his meds. The noise dimmed. The web untangled.
And Billy’s headache stayed.
That’s when Kamala Khan entered the picture.
It wasn’t her fault. She was radiant—sunshine personified. She carried no malice, no hidden cruelty. Just joy, kindness, a spark of enthusiasm that never dimmed. But her mind… dear god, her mind was chaos incarnate.
Most people thought in lines, or at least gentle arcs one thought leading neatly into the next. Kamala’s thoughts were fireworks. Exploding, colliding, looping back into themselves. She could be thinking about their current mission and how important it is, then about cleaning her room is just as important, which reminds her about how her suit needed to be cleaned, which reminds her about a song she’d been humming for an hour but didn’t remember the name of, which reminds her about her physics homework, which reminds her about that fanfic she loved that hadn’t updated in two months, which made her think of how she hadn’t updated her stories in six months, which somehow gave her a new fanfic idea based on the current mission—
And that was just the first four minutes of sitting near her.
Billy sat at the Tower kitchen table, his head in his hands, while Kamala perched happily on the counter across from him because, of course, she liked sitting on furniture she wasn’t supposed to. Her sneakered feet tapped an offbeat rhythm against the cabinet doors as she skimmed a mission file, eyes scanning lines she’d been mentally rereading without comprehension.
Focus, Kamala. Focus on the words. Wait, what was that lyric again? Ugh, that song’s stuck in my head. Maybe I should clean my room first. No, read the report. Focus. Oh my god, what if I turned this mission into a fanfic?
Billy groaned quietly, rubbing his temples.
Kamala blinked suddenly, realizing she’d been staring at the same sentence for several minutes. She dropped the file onto the counter and looked up at him, beaming.
“Hey!” she sang out, cheerful as ever.
Billy managed a weak wave. “Hi.”
He debated pretending everything was fine, but the dull throb behind his eyes was turning into a full-blown migraine. “Can you pass me some painkillers? My head’s killing me.”
“Sure, got it no problemo!” Kamala said brightly, hopping off the counter.
And then her brain kicked into overdrive again.
Painkillers, right. Focus. Painkillers. Where do we keep those again? Drawer? No, cabinet. Oh, gross, that fork is dirty. Might as well put that in the sink while I’m here. Okay, focus. Painkillers. Wait…why is there moldy pizza in here? Ew, that’s totally Kate. I should throw that out. Actually, maybe I should check the other food. No, wait…painkillers! But I’m already looking, so—
Billy could only sit there, listening to the cyclone of her consciousness spiral further away from the goal. She opened one drawer, then another, muttering half-thoughts aloud as she worked. Her hands moved on autopilot while her brain leapt from topic to topic, each one colliding with the next like a chain reaction of unfiltered curiosity.
He watched her shove the moldy pizza into the trash, then start humming the same three lines of that mystery song again, brow furrowed in concentration.
Her original mission was completely forgotten.
Billy sighed, a small, resigned smile tugging at his lips despite the pounding in his skull.
“Wow, I never realized how dirty it is here,” Kamala admitted, wrinkling her nose as she crouched to pull something out from under the counter.
Billy made a noncommittal hum, trying not to gag at the assortment of questionable objects she unearthed. “Oh, gag. Yeah, gross,” he managed, leaning back in his chair as Kamala held up what looked like a long-forgotten McDonald’s bag.
Agg America they both thought of cursing her out.
There was a brief pause. The smell hit.
“Okay nope,” Billy said quickly, flicking his fingers. A faint shimmer of blue light spiraled from his hand, engulfing the bag in a soft whoosh before reducing it to harmless ash that drifted gently into the trash can.
Kamala’s eyes lit up like a kid at a magic show. “That is so useful!” Her thoughts, loud and bright as fireworks, exploded in Billy’s head before she could even open her mouth.
Why don’t wizards use magic for cleaning more often? Like, imagine offering sorcery-based house cleaning services eco-friendly, quick, totally green! Magic-powered sustainability, that’s a thing, right? Oh my god, think about having a sorcerer Nanny like Mary Poppins!
Billy couldn’t help but smile. Her excitement had a rhythm to it, chaotic, yes, but warm, earnest. The kind of mental energy that buzzed like sunlight through glass. “Honestly,” he said aloud, “that’s not a bad idea.”
Kamala grinned. “Right? Magical cleaning services. I’d totally sign up for that.”
She turned back to the counter, scanning it like a detective piecing together a forgotten mystery. Her mind, though, was a storm again. Thoughts colliding, looping.
Okay, what was I doing? Drawer. No, the cabinet. Wait, was I supposed to clean or find something? Ugh, focus, Kamala. Why can’t you remember what you were oh no, oh no, what was it? Come on, brain, think!
Billy felt her panic spike. It was like being caught in a swirl of static. Then she froze, eyes wide, hands half-raised in defeat.
“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish laugh, turning toward him. “What was I getting you again?”
“Painkillers,” Billy said, raising an eyebrow.
Kamala smacked her forehead. “Right! Duh. Sorry, I just…. got distracted.”
“No kidding,” Billy muttered, but he smiled as she hurried to a different cabinet, this time miraculously opening the right drawer. She grabbed the small bottle triumphantly, tossing it to him with surprising precision, then filled a glass of water.
Billy caught both, downing the pill in one gulp. “Thanks. And no problem.”
Kamala smiled, tapping her fingers on the countertop in a quick rhythm before letting out a small sigh. “Welp,” she said, grabbing the mission file again, “back to paperwork.”
Billy watched her try. He could feel her trying.
Her eyes moved across the page, but her mind was already arguing with itself frustration and effort tangling into knots.
Okay, focus. You got this. It’s just a report. Mission details, strategy wait, this is so boring. No, not boring. Important. People’s lives, Kamala. Focus! Ugh, why is this like school? No, no, not like school school’s worse. Is it worse? Okay, stop thinking about that focus. Come on, brain, just focus please focus focus focus focus—
She was not focusing at all.
Billy’s heart tugged. He could hear her mind scream in silent, desperate loops, and watch her bright smile slowly flatten into a thin, defeated line.
“Kamala,” he said softly, leaning forward on his elbows. “Have you ever been tested for ADHD?”
She blinked, startled. “Huh? No why?”
Billy hesitated, watching her confusion flicker in her eyes, then shrugged. “I mean, I can read minds, remember?” He gestured vaguely at her with a circular motion. “And you’ve got the whole… vibe. Very neurospicy.”
Kamala laughed a light, airy sound but shook her head. “Pfft. I doubt I have ADHD. I mean, maybe it sounds like it, but that’s just kinda how most brains work, you know?”
Billy blinked at her. “Right,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced.
Inside her mind, Billy could hear the static spiral half denial, half bewilderment.
Do I really sound like that? No, I’m fine. I just think fast. Everyone gets distracted. Okay, maybe not everyone, but it’s not that bad. It's normal.I'm normal Right? Right!
He didn’t press. Not yet. “Mhm,” he murmured, leaning back again. I'll give it a month, he thought privately, then maybe I’ll take it up with Fury.
For now, there was something else he could do.
He drew a small glowing circle in the air. With a faint shimmer, several thick, rune-covered books dropped softly onto the floor beside him. The scent of ozone and old parchment filled the air.
Kamala looked up, blinking. “Wait, what are you doing?”
He smiled faintly. “You don’t mind if I study here, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all.” Billy hums and pulls out his phone, hooking it up to the TV and it begins blasting the song she had been singing for the past hour.
And just like that, Kamala’s focus so easily lost found a quiet rhythm again. With Billy there beside her, the air settled into something calm. She bent over the mission file, eyes flicking across the words with newfound steadiness though her mind still ran around it wasn't screaming at her to focus because she already was.
Billy watched her quietly, tuning in despite him describing Adhd as chaos,he knew he was wrong because beneath it there was a pattern. Every leap of her thought, every spark of energy had its rhythm. Her brain didn’t wander aimlessly; it just went on a weird path. All he had to do was help guide her through it.
And now, listening to the soft hum of her mind beside him, Billy knew he'd already figured Kamala Khan out completely, impossibly, beautifully.