2023
It's been several months since Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff gave their lives to bring back the trillions murdered in the decimation.
In the wake of the post - apocalyptic clean up, and the entirety of the universe adjusting to home the life...
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• • •
"Here comes the sun doo doo doo Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right"
The Beatles, Here Comes the Sun
• • •
M U S I C was still playing loudly, though she had turned it down so they could focus on making their dinner.
The table was full in flour, as Oliver was always the messiest maker. Though Charlie believed Bucky was the winner this time around. He had flour coated lightly on his black shirt and dark jeans. But he was having a good time; Charlie saw it in his smile.
The feeling of his hands still lingered on her in the warmest way. His hands were enormous and easily could wrap around her hands, and when his hand was in her waist she felt weak. Although she tried not to spend too much time thinking about it, every time she looked at him her eyes would linger to his hands and her thoughts would be once again consumed by him.
She knew that she had the potential for falling for him, hard too, but she didn't want to worry about that yet. When the feelings came, they would. For now, she liked their friendship.
"Charlie, are you listening to me?" Oliver whines and pinched his sisters arm.
"Ow," She swatted his hand away. "What?"
Oliver laughed. "I said I was finished. Look, I wrote my initials with pepperoni. Mine is better than Bucky's." The last part was a whisper, but the old soldier heard him anyway.
"Hey," He said defensively. "Mine isn't bad."
Charlie looked at it and then Oliver's. "Well..."
"I have never made pizza before!" Bucky laughed. And it was a real laugh, one Charlie didn't hear very often. She liked the sound of it, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
"It's beautiful, don't listen to him." Charlie said.
"Hey, listen to me! I know what I'm talking about." Oliver yelled with laughter and then threw a puff of flour at Charlie.
Her mouth dropped open in shock. The more mature side of her, the motherly instinct she had picked up in the past few months, was telling her not to do it. But she was twenty five, and had lost a lost of her early adult years to death.
So she scooped up a handful of flour and dumped it on Oliver's head.
"Flour war!" Oliver yelled then. He grabbed another handful and threw it towards Bucky, coating his long hair in the white condiment.
