In the height of summer, New York Central Park was awash in lush green. The lawns were tender, the woods verdant. Sunlight fell into the river of wind, splashing up ripples of light that leaped among the crowds and lifted soft, weightless skirts. The pale picnic blankets spread across the grass were like flocks of seabirds gathered on a green sea, their feathers bright enough to glow, huddled together and sun-warmed like ice cream dropped on the ground and slowly melting.
They sat halfway up the slope, watching with some curiosity as pairs of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents headed toward a corner of the park. Natasha's red hair had been turned a warm, brilliant orange under the sunlight. Coulson shaded his eyes with one hand, his skin flushed red, making him look like an orange with sun-wrinkled peel.
Natasha stepped onto the edge of the lawn, twirling her key ring as she watched Stark and Peter make the final adjustments to the Flying Car. "Did you have to stir something up during the two of us's vacation? I've already had this small area sealed off. If you hit anyone again, you can pay for it yourself."
"Have a little faith in me, beautiful lady." Stark's head suddenly popped out from the trunk, then sank back down.
"Ah, Tony, there seems to be a problem with the brake valve. I think it should be tightened a little more. What do you think?"
"It was tightened too much before, which made it overly sensitive and caused it to stall at the slightest thing. Don't touch it. I'll adjust it..."
Schiller sat on the sunlit grass nearby, basking in the sun as he watched the two of them tinker with the vintage car. It reminded him of the days when he had screwed in lightbulbs