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“So this can get me drunk?” Steve asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he looked at the large casks Thor had just rolled into Tony’s penthouse.
“These are the finest of Asgardian meads!” boomed the god, clasping a hand on Steve’s shoulder and Steve couldn’t suppress his wince, “The Warriors Three, Sif, and myself have had many joyous times consuming these meads!” He looked down at the barrels with a fond smile on his face.
“Riiiiiiiight,” drawled Tony, walking around them, “the point is, if they get Thor smashed, I’m pretty sure they’ll work on you Cap, even with your metabolism.”
“It seems a bit irresponsible…” Steve said, and Tony rolled his eyes, knowing that it was just a token protest. The Avengers had been working on convincing their fearless leader to get drunk with them for weeks, ever since Thor had mentioned the potency of Asgardian mead, and there was no way he was going to back out now, not since Thor went and brought the mead back from Asgard with him just for this occasion.
“C’mon Cap!” Clint shouted as he walked into the room, trailed by Natasha and Sam. “Lets do this thing!”
“Bruce-” Steve began, somewhat desperately, but Natasha cut him off.
“Banner isn’t coming, you know why, the same doesn’t apply to you, you are drinking.” And there wasn’t really any arguing with that tone of voice.
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“And then he started to cry!” Natasha finished, and the entire group was gasping for air as they laughed.
“An excellent tale!” boomed Thor as he raised his cup to Natasha, “you are truly a fearsome warrior, and any man should tremble before you!” Natasha preened at his words, smirking as she looked around the room at her teammates.
“Damn straight,” Clint said, looking proud.
“Man, those Hammer Industry guys had no idea what they were dealing with!” Tony crowed, obviously enjoying any story that had Hammer being humiliated (or his hired hands, it was a proxy thing, whatever).
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Thor and Clint were dueling it out on DDR – “Why do you own DDR Tony?” “Shut up Clint.” – while the rest of the team just stared in amazement. Clint was a better dancer than any of them would have guessed (despite the acrobatics and stunts he pulled while fighting, the man did not come across as particularly graceful, an effect emphasized by the band aid currently decorating the bridge of his nose). But while Clint was technically winning the game, Thor… Thor was impossible to look away from. The instant the two men had begun dancing, Tony had had his camera out, recording every moment.
Afterwards, Clint would clap Thor on the shoulder and solemnly tell him that was the best thing he had ever seen in his entire life, while the god blushed and grinned.
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The group was crowded around a table in the corner of the room, shots of vodka sitting on the table in front of them all (besides Steve and Thor, who both had full cups of mead in front of them).
“Okay,” Tony was saying seriously, “we all know the rules here?”
“Yes Tony,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes exaggeratingly, “you know, they had this game around when I was a kid?”
“Really?” Clint asked, sounding surprised, “I didn’t think they had fun in the 30s.”
“We had fun,” Steve replied petulantly. “We had lots of fun. Just… not much food. Or heat. Or medicine.” he shrugged as his friends looked slightly disturbed by that bit of information.
“I understand!” Thor stated, interrupting the awkward moment, “Lady Darcy taught this game to me! She is a skilled opponent, though my Lady Jane is perhaps a bit more ruthless!” he grinned widely, and the rest of them looked at him out of the corner of their eyes, both wanting and not wanting to know the story behind that statement.
“Aaaaaanyways,” drawled Natasha, bringing everyone’s attention back to the game in front of them “lets get started.”
“I’m going first!” Sam quickly interjected, sitting up straight. He wanted to get a grasp on how extreme the group was going to be before his turn, since his opinion that this was a bad game to play was superheros had fallen on deaf ears. He looked around the room, trying to decide who to pick, finally settling on Clint, trusting the man’s easy-going nature to make this a painless experience.
“Clint, truth or dare?”
“Hmmmmmm,” Clint rubbed at his chin before replying, “Dare” with a huge grin. Sam responded with a wide smile of his own.
“Alright fellow birdman, I dare you to… prank call Fury.” Clint paled, but stood, determined, and walked over the phone, the others trailing behind him, eyes wide as they watched him dial.
“Hello?” he said, voice wavering only slightly, “yes, I wanted to ask if your refrigerator was running.” They couldn’t quite make out Fury’s replied, but from the volume they could guess it wasn’t pleasant. Clint flinched slightly before bravely pushing onwards, “because you’d best chase after it!” He slammed the phone down, and the others let up a cheer, patting him on the back as he shook slightly, and collectively ignoring the phone when it immediately began ringing. Returning to their spots, everyone took a drink except for Clint, who looked around the group with narrowed eyes before reaching a decision.
“Natasha! Truth or dare?” The spy seemed to think for a moment, before replying.
“Truth.”
“Was that story you told me about the Russian bartender and the butterfly knife in Kota Kinabalu true?” Natasha nodded solemnly for a moment while Clint looked both afraid and impressed, before breaking out into laughter.
“No!” she shouted, “And I can’t believe you thought it was. I’m pretty sure its not physically possible to do that with your legs.” Clint turned red, muttering to himself. Tony squirmed, obviously really, really wanting to know, but also too afraid to ask.
“Tony,” Natasha asked, smirking as she looked over at the billionaire, “truth or dare.”
“Well,” he replied, looking thoughtful, “normally I’m all for dares, but I suspect yours will be very scary, so truth.” Natasha looked disappointed, then gleeful.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I already know the answer to this, but for the group, Tony, what is your favourite sexual activity.” Tony looked at her, eyebrows raised in alarm. He opened his mouth to reply, but Clint beat him to it.
“How do you know the answer to that?” he asked, and Natasha smirked.
“Pepper and I talk,” Tony paled, before reaching out and downing his shot.
“Chicken,” Natasha snickered, before looking around the group, “Okay, Thor, truth or dare?”
“Dare!” he replied cheerfully, and Natasha grinned.
“Wait here,” she said, before running off to the kitchen, returning after several minutes holding something in a mug, handing it over to Thor. “I dare you to drink this.” The god looked into the mug curiously, before gamely tipping his head back and swallowing it down. He made a pained look, struggling, before finally coughing and letting out a large cloud of cinnamon. His eyes were running as he continued to cough, and the rest of the group burst out laughing, Sam fetching him a bottle of water from the kitchen even as he continued to laugh at the god. After draining the bottle, Thor turned to look at Natasha, grinning although his eyes were still watering.
“You are a worthy opponent Natasha! That was a clever trick!” She shrugged, raising her glass to her mouth. Thor looked around the group consideringly.
“You can say Tony,” Clint supplied helpfully as the other man glared at him, “since he didn’t actually answer his truth.”
“Very well! Tony, truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Tony finally settled on, looking apprehensive.
“I dare you to wear this,” Thor jumped up, grabbing a lampshade off of a nearby lamp and plopping it onto Tony’s head, “for the rest of the evening!” Tony tipped the shade back to raise an eyebrow at Thor, while the god turned to the rest of the group, “My Lady Jane had Lady Darcy do this,” he confided, “it was quite amusing!” He sat back looking smug while Tony shook his head and grinned.
“Okay, my turn… Steve!” Steve rolled his eyes.
“Truth,” he said, not wanting to know what Tony Stark’s idea of a good dare was.
“Alright Cap, tell me true… are you as pure and innocent as Uncle Sam claims?” Steve felt a blush crawl up his cheeks, instantly annoyed that Tony would ask such a personal question, but not surprised.
“No,” he responded shortly, crossing his arms and ignoring Tony’s flailing as he took in that information, “Sam, truth or dare?”
For the rest of the game, Steve only took dares, no matter how outrageous.
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“Shopping cart drag racing.” Clint stated with confidence even as he swayed slightly on his feet.
“How did you even get these?” Tony asked, voice skeptical as he eyed the shopping carts arrayed in front of the group, “Where did they come from?”
“I have my ways,” Clint replied, sounding proud of himself as he winked exaggeratedly at Tony.
“What does that even mean?” The other man asked, but Clint was no longer listening, climbing inside of one of the carts.
“I call Thor!” he shouted, and Natasha instantly jumped into the cart next to him.
“I call Steve!” she shouted, and Sam quickly scrambled into the last cart.
“I call Iron Man!” he said, and Clint pointed an accusing finger at him.
“No outside help!”
“You have a god! Nat has a supersoldier!” Sam replied somewhat desperately, “I should be able to have Iron Man!” But Clint wasn’t able to be swayed, and Sam finally huffed and crossed his arms as he settled into the bottom of his cart.
“What I want to know,” Tony commented as he wandered over, pushing his lampshade out of his eyes as he put his hands on the handle of the cart, “is why you want me to be the one pushing. I’m pretty sure you’re stronger than me, birdman.”
“We are going to lose,” Sam stated solemnly, “I am trying to preserve the remnants of my dignity.” Tony leaned over, patting his head sympathetically.
“That is a losing battle my friend.”
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Natasha let out a triumphant scream as her cart hurtled around the final corner of the five block loop Clint had declared the racetrack.
“We’re almost there Steve! Go, go, go!” Clint was leaning out over the front of his cart as he and Thor came up behind them.
“Faster Thor, you can do it!” The sound of sirens suddenly pierced the shouted warcries of the superheros, and Steve froze in horror as a police car pulled out in front of him and Natasha. Thor hesitated. “Keep going!” Clint shouted, “Leave them!”
“Hey!” Natasha shouted out as Thor doubled his pace and he and Clint were quickly lost to the darkness of the street.
“Shit,” they heard from behind them, as the cops in front of them began to climb out of their car, and they turned to see Tony sprinting off in the opposite direction with a shouted ‘later, bitches!’ leaving a sputtering Sam attempting, and failing, to climb gracefully out of his cart.
“Hands up!” shouted the police, as Natasha and Steve turned back around, obeying the command as they turned.
“Fuck.” Natasha said with feeling, and Steve began to laugh.
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The officer looked more than a little bit nervous as he locked the door on Captain America, Natasha and Sam flopping down on the bench next to him.
“Why isn’t Clint here?” Sam asked grumpily, “This whole thing was his idea.”
“Sneaky fucker,” replied Steve, leaning his head on Sam’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
“The worst,” agreed Natasha, leaning on Sam’s other shoulder, as the vet looked down in befuddlement at the two superheros half lying on top of him. “I don’t know why I’m friends with him, to be honest. I could do so much better.” They sat for several long minutes in silence, before it was broken by Steve’s quiet voice.
“I miss Bucky.” Sam and Natasha both froze. Several more minutes past in silence, but everyone was aware that the mood in the room was continuing to fall.
“I miss Riley,” Sam offered, and Natasha turned her head into his shoulder, her words lost to the fabric of Sam’s shirt, giving the two men no hint as to whose name she offered in turn. The silence was now thick and choking.
“Everyone I knew is dead,” Steve spoke again, voice small and shaking, “every single person who knew me, my whole life. Everyone who knew me before I was Captain America,” his voice broke on those words, “Peggy’s the only one left and I thought I was done. I was done, you know?” He sat up, looking at Sam and Natasha who fought to meet his eyes, full of pain. “I stopped Hydra, and I aimed that plane for the ice, and I was glad. I was done. Bucky was gone and-” his breath hitched, and he looked down and away, and Natasha reached out, grabbing one of Sam’s hands and squeezing, uncertain if she should reach out to Steve or stay away. Sam glanced at her and seeing her uncertainty, made the decision, reaching out an arm and laying it around Steve’s shoulders, and he instantly crumpled into Sam, making himself so, so small as he curled into Sam’s side, a choked sob escaping him.
“Bucky died and I should have too.” He said, and Natasha laid her other hand on his head, curling around Sam to shelter Steve with her body. “I wanted to. But I woke up in the future and… I don’t know who I am anymore, in this world, and everyone had opinions on who I am, everyone is telling me who I am, but no one, no one actually knows who I am. No one remembers Steve Rogers. All they remember is Captain fucking America.” Steve’s shoulders shook as he began to sob in earnest, clutching at Sam’s shirt as his friends did their best to comfort him.