After returning to Stark Tower, Lynn stayed in his penthouse for three whole days.
For the past three days, he has stayed mostly within the living room, bedroom, and kitchen, spending most of his time lounging on the sofa flipping through old books he had brought back from Kamar-Taj, occasionally glancing up at the New York skyline outside the window in a daze.
Every time I think of the Ancient One, the pent-up frustration she left behind when she left still lingers in my heart.
Natasha hasn't been to SSC headquarters these past few days.
She placed the tablet on the coffee table, and intelligence briefings popped up one after another, but most of the time she just leaned on his shoulder and closed her eyes to rest, occasionally reaching for the coffee cup on the coffee table, drinking it and then leaning back.
The two of them stayed there quietly, as if making up for all the time they had spent together in Kathmandu through their phone screens.
By the evening of the fourth day, Lynn finally got up from the sofa and said to Natasha, "If we don't go out soon, mushrooms will grow on our backs." Natasha put down her tablet, glanced at him, didn't ask where he was going, and simply changed into casual clothes, casually tying her hair back.
The two of them didn't use a portal; they took the subway, walked, and queued to buy things just like ordinary people.
They strolled leisurely through the streets of Manhattan.
The setting sun bathed the glass curtain walls of skyscrapers in a warm orange hue. A few office workers, just off work, lined up at a hot dog stand on the street, while a street performer played the saxophone in the distance.
As they passed a newly opened dessert shop, Natasha stopped and glanced at the strawberry cakes in the window. Without a word, Lynn went inside and bought two, also picking up a cup of hot cocoa on the way out.
He handed the hot cocoa to Natasha, then held two ice cream cones, one matcha and one vanilla, frantically trying to eat them with both hands. Natasha watched his flustered movements, a barely perceptible smile playing on her lips, before snatching the matcha cone from his hand when he wasn't looking.
"That's mine."
"Now it's mine." Natasha took a bite of her matcha ice cream cone, a hint of smugness in her grey-blue eyes.
Lynn looked down at the last vanilla ice cream cone in her hand, then at Natasha, and said in an extremely aggrieved tone, "Do you know that I only get two meals a day in Kamar-Taj?"
"It sounds like a very harsh environment for spiritual practice."
"Extremely tough. What you're taking now is the first sweet thing I've had in days."
"Then go buy another one."
Natasha took another bite after speaking, then turned and continued walking. Lynn stood there for a moment, then quickly followed, handing her his vanilla ice cream cone and saying, "I'll go buy another one." Natasha stood on the street waiting for him, her left hand holding matcha and her right vanilla, her expression relaxed and content.
They also stopped by a used bookstore. The bookstore was small, with wooden bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling, and the air was filled with the smell of old pages and dust.
Natasha, sitting by the window, picked up a travel photography book and was flipping through the pages of photos of the Italy coast.
Lynn searched through the medical section for a long time and found an old neurosurgery textbook from the 1970s, the cover of which was so worn that the original color was no longer visible.
That evening they also went to Queens. Lynn said Peter had mentioned a pizzeria to him before, where the cheese could supposedly be stretched to half a meter long.
When he offered this suggestion to Natasha, Natasha raised an eyebrow and said that if the cheese wasn't half a meter long, he should sleep on the sofa.
It was late at night when I got back to my apartment.
Natasha took a shower first, and when she came out, she was wearing a loose T-shirt, her hair still not completely dry. Lynn was leaning against the headboard, flipping through the old book the king had given him. When he saw her come out, he closed the book and put it on the bedside table. Natasha lay down next to him and put her wet hair on his lap.
Lynn instinctively picked up the towel from the bedside table and dried her hair, her movements gentle, as if she had done it many times before. Outside the window, the New York night unfolded quietly, and the lights of the barges on the Hudson River moved slowly.
"During my absence, has anything new happened at SSC?" Lynn asked.
Natasha closed her eyes, her voice slightly languid and husky. "There's always something new happening. But the most exciting thing lately is that Tony and Peter are having a tiff."
"It's those two again?" Lynn put the towel aside, her fingers gently running through her still damp hair. "What's it about this time?"
Natasha shifted to a more comfortable position, resting her face on his knee, and began to recount the whole story in a tone befitting an intelligence briefing.
Peter has always longed to become a full-fledged Avengers.
He felt that he had already fought with Tony in Berlin and caught so many thieves in Queens, so he was fully qualified to officially join the team.
But Tony believes that he lacks understanding and currently positions him as "Friendly Neighbor Spider-Man," expecting him to behave himself and handle mundane tasks like catching thieves and giving directions.
Peter diligently kept a daily log of his good deeds, writing down every little thing and sending it to Happy, eagerly awaiting Tony's reply.
Tony would occasionally reply with "Received," and then that would be the end of it.
"He's just leaving the child hanging like that?"
"... This is so Stark- esque."
The situation took a turn a few days ago. Peter stumbled upon a group of arms dealers trading near the Queens docks, using weapons including modified Chitauri energy cores, high-end weapon parts leaked from an old S.H.I.E.L.D.. warehouse, and several experimental items that appeared to be remnants from the Hammer Industries era.
Peter felt this was his chance to prove himself. Tony told him to "behave himself" because he didn't trust his abilities enough. If he could solve this arms smuggling case independently, Tony would see his growth.
However, his unfamiliarity with the new armor caused significant disruption while tracking the transaction.
Lynn clicked his tongue softly upon hearing this. He could picture Peter standing on that dock.
"Has this been going on for several days?"
"Up to this point, Tony thinks he's disobedient, Peter thinks Tony doesn't trust him."
Lynn remained silent for a moment, not responding immediately. His fingers were still gently combing through Natasha's hair.
One more chapter today.
My brain's a bit fried, I'm stuck...
Looking at the outline, I can't seem to write a single word...