The line at the checkout counter stretched nearly to the door.
Even Phil Coulson and Natasha Romanoff found themselves patiently waiting at the back.
Luke, still denied the nap he so desperately longed for, had been conscripted by Wanda to assist the three previously injured customers with their purchases.
His warm, earnest service earned glowing praise. The trio even insisted they'd be returning soon.
By the time the last receipt was printed and the bell above the door jingled one final time, a full thirty minutes had passed.
Now, only Coulson and Natasha remained in the store.
Behind the counter, Wanda wore the smile of a wolf who had just finished a banquet.
This batch of customers had been very generous.
They hadn't even bought that many things, but somehow, Wanda had extracted thousands of dollars from them.
Even the agents didn't seem to suspect they'd been financially dismantled by the charmingly ruthless shopkeeper.
With the register brimming and her mental calculator whirring, Wanda counted bills with humming satisfaction.
At that moment, Luke, now back in his beloved glasses, finally approached Natasha.
Wanda, too busy basking in her profits, had no time to monitor him.
Still, Luke exercised caution. No handshakes. No sudden moves. He knew better than to risk triggering his sister's wrath again.
Proximity was enough.
Especially with Wanda nearby.
If she saw him holding another woman's hand again, it would be tantrums, chaos, and probably another toilet-cleaning punishment.
"Doggo didn't cause you any trouble, did he?" Luke asked casually, a polite smile on his face.
Natasha shook her head. "No trouble at all. Actually, I have to thank you. If it weren't for you lending him to us, we wouldn't have located Stark so quickly."
Luke relaxed a little. At least she sounded genuinely grateful.
And to Natasha's surprise, Luke actually seemed... different.
With his glasses on, he looked more mature, intellectual even.
More like an awkward genius than the shameless ogler from earlier.
"Is Mr. Stark alright?" Luke asked, concern creeping into his voice. "He didn't get hurt or anything, did he?"
Natasha offered a reassuring smile. "He's fine. Just some minor checks and debriefs. He's on his way back now, should arrive later today."
Since they'd found Tony, she and Coulson had headed straight here to return the helpful husky. Tony had to stay back for health check ups and interrogations.
Luke glanced down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
He looked hesitant, almost shy.
Natasha immediately picked up on it. She didn't need her years of spy work to notice when someone was about to make a request.
"It's alright," she said gently. "You helped us a lot. If there's something you need, just say it. If I can help, I will definitely do it."
Luke looked up, finally gathering his courage.
Though... his gaze still didn't quite reach her eyes.
It lingered a few inches lower, especifically on her chest.
"There's just... one little thing," he muttered and gulped slightly, causing Natasha's eyes to widen in alarm for a second.
"I've always admired Mr. Stark. I heard there's going to be a press conference. I was wondering if... I could attend."
Natasha almost laughed, not out of mockery, but from sheer relief.
She'd braced herself for something weird, considering how much he had been ogling her chest, or maybe something borderline illegal.
But this? This was child's play.
"Of course," she said warmly. "I'll have someone send you an invitation. Shouldn't take long."
An organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. could get him into the press conference with a snap of its fingers.
In a rush of excitement, he instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand, clasping it with genuine gratitude.
"Really?! Thank you so much! I've long since dreamed of seeing my idol in person!"
Natasha's hand was unexpectedly soft, an awkward detail that registered in Luke's mind for precisely half a second before.
The air split with Wanda's shriek.
She vaulted over the counter like a gymnast, her limbs a blur of crimson energy and sisterly fury.
Luke yelped and instantly dropped Natasha's hand like it was radioactive.
He turned and fled, disappearing toward the stairs without another word.
Wanda skidded to a stop in front of Natasha, puffing herself up like an angry lioness.
Her voice was sharp and cold.
"Since your business is concluded, can you leave now?"
Luke was halfway up the stairs when he suddenly froze.
A soft ding chimed inside his mind.
[Ding! Your counter has sensed a great threat and has learned to automatically repair itself. When damaged, it will now return to its original form!]
What counter? What damage?
Turning around, he stared down at the store below.
Nothing looked out of place, until he saw it.
The countertop Wanda had leapt from... was glowing faintly.
A palm-shaped indentation was slowly vanishing, smoothing itself out as if rewinding time.
Faint wisps of crimson light crackled along its edges.
It was actually the same hue as Wanda's energy in the movies.