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Another one of those fucking training sessions that turned into a battle in the deepest, darkest, fiery pits of Hell. It started out so innocent; the team was meant to be working on dodging attacks, but it went from dodging fists, to dodging bullets, and now you somehow found yourself in the midst of a fucking game of dodgeball. The Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes, each of you ranging from early twenties to late nineties in age, were playing an intense game of dodgeball within the training gym of the tower. You found yourself wondering why the hell you agreed to participate, but Steve and Bucky batted those baby blues at you and you gave in far too quickly. Damn those super soldiers and their super good looks. Plus, Natasha wanted to do a men versus women kinda thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested to see how that would play out. For the women, it was you, Nat, Wanda, and Okoye and Shuri decided to join you while they were visiting from Wakanda with King T’Challa. On the men’s side, their team was made up of Clint, Steve, Bucky, T’Challa, and Peter. There was a moment where you felt bad for the poor 15 year old boy. He had no idea the kind of shitstorm that was about to befall him in this game.
Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when you had barely managed to miss the red, rubber ball that was coming at you at an unnatural speed. Twisting rather oddly, you grumbled lowly and shot a nasty glare to a tall, dark-haired super solider that was smirking at you. Your right hand came up in a not-too-kind gesture and Bucky broke off into a fit of laughter. He was cut short when a ball struck him square in the face. You heard Shuri snickering behind you.
“There goes broken white boy number one.” You snorted and watched Bucky storm off to stand at the side of the gym, arms crossed and biceps bulging. Man, did you love it when he wore those tank tops. Again, you’re pulled out of your thoughts as Peter makes a small sound of pain. Natasha had nailed his stomach and he hunched over, groaning. You were actually surprised to see that Peter wasn’t the first one to go. With three left on the men and still a full team of women, you were sure that your team would see a definite win. An hour of dodging and throwing later, no changes were made. You were beginning to get fed up with the endless back and forth, and you could see that the remaining guys were also starting to get annoyed. You turned your gaze to Nat to ask her how long she planned on going with this, when a flash of red whizzed by your head, barely missing you, and slammed itself straight into Natasha’s face. The whole room went still. No one dared moved. You looked to the opposite side and saw Clint frozen in his stance, obviously the one who had thrown the ball. His face paled, eyes widening, and you didn’t dare glance over at Nat. You knew the redhead was seething in silent rage. Within seconds, Clint had disappeared, and Nat closely after him.
It took a few hours to find Hawkeye, but you and Bucky managed to spot him nestled in the rafters, his bow and arrow clutched tightly in his grasp.
“Barton, come down, the game has been over for four hours. I’m sure she’s forgotten already.” Bucky placed his hands on his hips, sighing. Clint looked down at you two, eyes still wide with fear and panic.
“She’s out there, waiting. She’ll get me back. I know it.” His voice was shaky, hoarse, coming out as barely over a whisper. You shook your head. This was ridiculous. Clint was a grown ass man with a wife and kids. Why was he so terrified of Natasha? Truth be told, you hadn’t seen her since after the game, and the whole team was a little shaky. There was no telling what that woman could do. Nudging Bucky with you elbow, a grin slowly curling onto your lips, you mouthed a ‘watch this’ and pointed up at Clint.
“Oh my god! Nat, what are you doing up there?!” Clint let out the most high-pitched, scream you had ever heard coming from a grown man as he tumbled down from the ceiling. You hunched over in laughter, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Bucky was doing his best to keep his composure, to be the mature adult in the situation, but found himself also laughing alongside you. Clint growled and directed a glare at the both of you.
“You guys are such di—” His words stop in his throat when he catches sight of a familiar head of hair coming after him down the hallway, a familiar rubber ball in her head and ready to be launched. Another scream, and the infamous Hawkeye took off in the opposite direction. You and Bucky continued laughing, both of your curled up on the floor. Amidst it all, Bruce and Tony sat at a computer, each of them having their own little snack, and a wad of money set on the table by the computer.
“I’m betting on Nat.” Bruce had mumbled, tossing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth. Next to him, Tony grumbled around a mouthful of blueberries.
“I have confidence in Clint, so don’t get your hopes up, Brucie.”