Chapter Text
“I’ve done it!”
Natasha didn’t bat an eye, simply turning a page in her book and continuing on like nothing happened. Clint popped open his soda and took a swig.
Tony barged into the common area, with what appeared to be a flask in hand. “I’ve done it! I, Tony Stark, am a genius. Am I not?”
Clint suppressed a yawn and reached for the remote. Natasha kept reading.
Unperturbed, Tony stood between the two of them at the coffee table and announced, “I have done it! The world will never again be the same!”
Natasha closed her eyes and exhaled deeply through her nose. Clint took another drink of pop then sighed. “Okay. I’ll bite. What have you ‘done,’ Tony? Besides half the women in the tri-state area,” he added, under his breath.
Natasha snickered and Tony scowled. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.” He held up the flask-like thing in his hand. “This! I have done... this!”
“Stark,” Natasha warned, her eyes never leaving the book.
“Ugh, you guys are no fun. Where’s Banner? He’d understand.”
“Probably sleeping. He was up all night, theorizing.”
Tony groaned. “Then pretend to be him, okay?”
Natasha closed her book with a sigh. “So should I pretend as though I care also?”
“Yes!”
She snorted. "Carry on.”
Stark smirked triumphantly and began excitedly explaining to them that within the tiny flask he held was the solution to Steve’s problem. He then went on a tangent of science jargon that only Banner would be able to, or want to, understand. Natasha raised a finger. “Stark. That’s all swell, but what’s Cap’s problem?”
Stark stopped mid-sentence, looking confused. “Oh right. Cap’s problem. His metabolism is too fast. So, while the rest of us are getting plastered off our asses, Rogers sits there looking bored and being the same old stick-in-the-mud as always.” He wiggled the flask and grinned. “Not anymore. Not with this.” He paused for effect. “190-proof Everclear, mixed as well with some Asgardian booze, manufactured in such a way that it completely bypasses the liver and stomach. Pure-ass alcohol straight to the bloodstream and, thus, the brain. Cap’s body metabolizes everything at the speed of light, so just giving him strong alcohol wouldn’t do a damn thing. But give him strong alcohol that bypasses most of the freakish organs in his body that metabolize and render the alcohol useless, and we’ve got one hell of a party.” He stopped and grinned, pleased with himself.
Natasha closed her book and put it down on the coffee table. “Wow, Stark. I’ve gotta hand it to you. Put that brilliant mind to work and you’ve managed to make an alcohol worthy of our very own Captain. Congrats are in order.” Clint chuckled and took a swig of his pop, making a gun with his hand and “shooting” Tony with it a few times.
Rolling his eyes, Stark popped the flask in his pocket. “I’m going to ignore the biting sarcasm in your tone, Romanoff, and attribute it to you being jealous that you didn’t think of it first. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a senior citizen to go get hammered.” He winked and walked out of the room.
The pair of assassins sat in silence for a moment. “You know, I’m actually really interested in seeing that.” Natasha glanced up at Clint. “Especially if Stark is going to be drinking as well. Stark and Rogers, drunk.” He nodded slowly, imagining it. “Yeah.”
Natasha cracked a smile. “I’ve got some vodka stashed in my room.”
“What do you say, Nat? You in?”
“I’m in.”
“Yo, Cap’n.”
“Stark,” Steve responded, not bothering to even look up or pause in his attack on the punching bag dangling in the corner of his room.
“What do you say to a game of Cards Against Humanity?”
“We fight against enough things that are “against humanity,” Stark, do you really think I want to play a game against cards, too? Sounds like a waste.”
Tony suppressed the laughter bubbling inside of him, as well as his snarky comeback, and replied instead, “Cards Against Humanity is a game, old-timer. I pick a card with a scenario, you and whoever else we’re playing with plays a card they think best fits the scenario; I pick the best card. It's child’s play, really.”
Steve continued with his punching bag. “Which is why you're so thrilled by the prospect of it." He shook his head. "Not interested.”
“What? Scared you’ll lose?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not 12, Tony. You can’t bait me into playing your stupid little game.”
“Oh, come on. Live a little. What if we play King’s Cup? Flip Cup? Never Have I Ever?”
“I’m not interested in your games.”
“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the weekend, if you do.”
"Will you though?"
“Scout’s Honor.”
Steve grabbed his bag and turned, finally looking at Tony. "Make it a week of you leaving me alone: no random runs to fast food joints in the middle of the night, no stunts, no experiments. Just me in my room without you contacting me for a week, and we've got a deal."
Stark stuck out his hand and grinned. "Deal."
With a heavy sigh, Steve made his way toward the door.
“Yes! I’m gonna go get the others. Meet you in the front room!”
Tony ran by Thor’s room, where the god was trying to figure out how to operate the speakers above his bed. He paused in the doorway.
“Hey, big guy, drinking game in the front room, 10 minutes. Be there or be square.” He flashed him a thumbs up before running away.
Thor looked at the empty doorway in confusion. “Square?”