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It was hot.
No.
Beyond hot.
Nuclear.
You were sprawled out on the couch of your tiny apartment feeling like you were going to die of heat. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move and call someone to see if you could crash at their place until your air conditioner was fixed. You internally cursed New York for its heat. And then Shield for stationing you here to play baby sitter to the Avengers. And yourself for declining when Tony offered to put you up in Stark Tower.
Stark Tower.
What you wouldn’t give to be there now, in its air-conditioned embrace, able to move about freely.
Shit.
You were supposed to be there now. For work. You lolled your head to the side to find the time on the clock across the room, it told you that you were officially two hours late for your job. Fury was going to kill you. You reached out an arm lazily to grab your cell phone and call in sick, finding that it was deader than a doornail before rolling off the couch and on to the floor.

You hummed softly, standing in the kitchen of Tony’s floor at Stark tower, thinking about the events that had brought you here to this place at this point in time.
It had all started when a suited man with a soft smile had shown up unannounced… in your living room. After he practically gave you a heart attack and you had thrown the nearest thing at him, a heavy glass dish you kept by the door for keys and such, which he dodged, he’d introduced himself as Agent Coulson.
You knew exactly why he was here, beginning to plead that you hadn’t done anything wrong and to just leave you be. You had been in New York for three years, happily running your little bakery without incident, managing to keep your ability to manipulate the mass of pretty much anything under wraps.
He had just smiled a secretive smile and said, “We know Miss (L/n). We’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while now. I’m here because the planet needs your help.”
That certainly