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Honestly, Fury hated the idea. He hated it with a burning passion of a thousand suns, he hated it more than any idea Coulson had come up with in the past (and there had been some terrible ones).
One thing that was certain, however, was that Stark would hate it even more. And if there was one thing that would swing Fury's opinion on anything, it was that Stark wouldn't want to do it.
Of course, there was a certain sense of diplomacy in convincing The Avengers to do anything, especially something they wouldn't want to do. This was a dance that Fury had down to a fine art:
First, convince Captain America. Use words that appeal to his sense of loyalty to team and country, and to team-building. Don't set it as an outright order. Make sure he understands that it might not go down well with the team (sure, the guy was the epitome of all that was good in the world, but he shared Fury's sense of humour in persuading Tony Stark to do degrading things).
Second, let Captain America convince the others that it was a good idea. Add some element of childishness and/or competition for the others, and watch them fall over themselves agreeing.
Third, watch chaos ensue.
"Pottery?" Clint squealed, slamming his hands down on the table in righteous anger. "You want me to do pottery?"
Steve's stoic expression didn't waver, managing to look both naive and stern at the same time. "I want you all to do pottery. It's meant to be good for us to , um, not destroy things. You know, to calm down."
Tony stood up, brushing dirt off his jeans and shirt like it wasn't a dirty brown colour from thousands of oil stains. "Thanks, but no thanks, Cap. I'm outta here."
The rest stood too, save for Bucky, Vision and Sam. Even Thor, ready as he was to try anything, cast a sorrowful glance in Steve's direction and said, almost mournfully, "I am sorry, Captain, but it does not sound like an activity fit for a warrior."
"Tony," Steve said, and Tony stopped, groaned, turned. "Please."
"We're doomed," Clint announced, looking to the heavens in despair as Tony slunk back to his seat, closely followed by the others.
"At least this gives us a chance to make the public hate us more," Pietro whispered harshly, and everyone, save for Steve, perked up.
The man running the pottery workshop looked close to a breakdown as soon as the Avengers walked into the studio, Thor politely attempting to rest the door back on the frame it had been knocked off as he went.
"You know what to do, right?" His voice shook, as did his hands. They all shook their heads, and murmured phrases of dissent. "Great!" he clapped his hands together, "then you don't need me! If you want me I'll be - er - well you won't. Have fun!" He darted out of the door so fast that it slipped back down and fell on the floor, giving them all a show of his terrified behind jogging away in a very undignified matter.
"Let's get to it then," Bruce sighed.
Steve, bless his boy-scout heart, actually attempted it. He ignored the shouts and squeals that arose around him within the first thirty seconds, and just concentrated on trying to shape the clay so that it was completely symmetrical. He had almost succeeded, making it ten minutes, when a flying blob of clay slapped into his nose. This was a misconduct that couldn't be let slip.
"What," he began, prepared to go into full army general voice, but trailed off as he saw Pietro and Wanda flinging clay at each other haphazardly, so that it seemed to go everywhere but on the two of them. Peter had even taken to hiding on the ceiling, though from the sight of his hair he wasn't safe there either. Along with the clay, curses were being shown in a mixture of English and Sokovian, and Steve was sure that the parts he didn't understand would make even Tony blush. Natasha, whom he assumed understood from her expression of amusement, was watching from across the table, so he leant over to whisper, "What is going on?"
"Wanda's telling Pietro that he started it so it's his fault that he's being injured by flying clay, he's trying to convince her that she started it and that some went in his mouth so please stop."
"And who started it?" Steve dared to ask. Natasha jerked her thumb at Clint, who was busy creating a mug shaped like a dick that Steve knew would look obscene if it was drunk out of. He knew better than to ask, returning instead to his own mug.
He got about two more minutes of relatively peaceful (which means that he managed to duck all of the clay) pottery shaping, before the sensation of someone standing behind him and wrapping their arms around his waist brought him out of his concentrated world and back into the raucous of the Avengers.
He didn't even have to turn, knowing immediately who the arms and chest and legs belonged to. Without even thinking he moved forward on his stool, grinning when Tony's head popped over his shoulder and his legs wrapped around his so that they were both balanced on the stool.
Steve's smile faded into a bemused frown as Tony's hands were placed over his and he began to join in with the forming of the clay, humming as he did so.
"Haven't you seen Ghost?" Tony mumbled into the crook of Steve's neck, and Steve remembered the scene that he was referring to immediately.
"Sure, Tony," he sighed, unable to hide his sparkling amusement even through the veil of exasperation, but Tony didn't move and Steve didn't ask him to and honestly, this felt like home.
Of course, with his team it was impossible to have an emotional moment without someone ruining it, which was, more often than not, Thor. Today his interruption of choice was to thump the table so hard that Steve was sure he heard it crash, while booming, "I need more clay!"
Almost afraid to look, Steve glanced over to where Thor had made a lumpy monstrosity that seemed to be at least five times larger than anyone elses, which made more sense as Thor reached up and pulled some clay out of Peter's hair before slapping it on the side.
"I think that's enough," Bruce commented mildly beside Thor, from where he was making a very practical, normal, mug.
"On my planet we have drinking vessels triple the size of this, to prove our worth when we, as you say, down it." Thor replied derisively, removing some clay from Pietro's mug as he went.
Twenty minutes later, having come close to an emergency as Clint pinched some clay from Natasha and wasn't forgiven until he ate it, all of the team had finished with their mugs.
One by one, they placed them in the kiln and settled down to wait.
"Did you even shape it?" Vision, holding his perfectly ornamented mug, asked Bucky, who seemed to be holding the same lump of clay that he had started off with. Sam was proudly showing Wanda his, and she nodded in delight as she tried to work out where the handle was.
"Mine exploded!" Scott wailed, attempting in vain to salvage at least one shard of clay from the disaster zone that was the kiln his mug had been in.
And as the Avengers traipsed out to meet Coulson for their lift back, holding mugs in various states of recognisability and completely covered from head to toe in clay, Fury turned to Coulson with a smirk on his lips and said, "Any more ideas?"