It all started with a Poptart, and it ended with a kiss… Bow chicka bow wow!
The kitchen was dark. And despite his valiant efforts, Thor managed to burn every single pop tart left in the pantry.
"Noooooo!" He howled in anguish as the smoldering remains of the strawberry flavored deliciousness popped up from the infernal chrome machine. Aka: the toaster. A sleep deprived Natasha slinked from her room in Stark Towers and stumbled into the kitchen. I had to work her into this story somehow.
"Thor, whaaa, what's, what's going on? Why does it smell like strawberry death in here?" she stumbled over her words.
"I have burned the Man of Iron's last delectable pastries of pop, it is most regrettable." He looked at her morosely.
She sighed heavily. "I'm not going to be going back to sleep anytime soon, am I? Move, I'll make pancakes."
Thor watched hungrily as she lazily went about the kitchenmaking the pancakes. To him, she seemed to move in slow motion, and it seemed to take an eternity for her to make breakfast. She stacked the pancakes on top of one another, slathered them in butter, and then drizzled the syrup Tony had imported from Canada artistically onto the pancakes.
"There you go, try not to eat them in one…." She broke off in mid sentence as her Stark phone rang. "Fuck." She muttered immediately after the conversation ended. "I have to go the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Coulson business."
She sprinted towards the elevator while Thor called to her, "Good luck with the Son of Coul, Lady Romanoff, your cakes of the pan are most appreciated!"
A moment later a sweaty Steve Rogers came springing up the stairs. He tossed a plastic bag to Thor, "Hey, I figured Tony wouldn't stock up on Poptarts so I picked some up on my run, you like the strawberry kind, right?" Thor, so overcome with emotion, leapt up from his seat and pressed his lips against the Captain's. Thor pulled away quickly and tried to sputter out an apology, but Steve pressed a finger against his lips and kissed him back.
I told you it was fluffy.
