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It started with a single, terrible idea.
Which meant it was absolutely Tony’s.
“Absolutely not,” said Steve Rogers immediately.
“You haven’t even heard it,” Tony protested, spinning lazily in his chair.
“I don’t need to.”
“That hurts.”
Sam leaned against the kitchen counter. “If this ends with structural damage, I’m not explaining it to Damage Control.”
“It won’t,” Tony said confidently. “Probably.”
Natasha closed her book slowly. “That is not reassuring.”
Tony clapped once. “We’re playing tag.”
There was a beat of silence.
Clint blinked. “Like… playground tag?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “But elevated. Stark-grade.”
Steve folded his arms. “No.”
Tony pointed at him. “You’re it.”
“I didn’t agree to—”
Too late.
Tony smacked a glowing wristband onto Steve’s forearm and bolted.
The band lit up bright red.
Friday’s voice chimed pleasantly through the Tower.
“Game mode activated. Captain Rogers is ‘It.’ Good luck.”
Steve looked down at the band.
Then toward the hallway Tony had just sprinted down.
Then at the rest of the team, who were already scattering.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
⸻
They were not kidding.
The Tower lights dimmed slightly. Doors auto-locked in randomized sections. Elevators slowed to “competitive suspense mode.”
Steve stood in the middle of the common room, hands on hips.
He could refuse.
He could absolutely refuse.
From somewhere above him, Tony’s voice echoed over the speakers.
“Forty floors, Cap. No powers. No tech. First person tagged is It. Last one standing wins.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’re aware I’m still faster than all of you.”
Sam’s voice shouted from down the hall: “He’s right, that’s a design flaw!”
Clint yelled, “I’m hiding in the vents!”
Natasha’s voice, calm as ever: “He already knows that.”
Steve exhaled slowly.
Then he ran.
⸻
Tony had expected speed.
He had not expected silent speed.
He turned a corner on Level 27 and nearly ran straight into Steve’s chest.
He yelped and dove sideways into a conference room.
“Friday!” Tony shouted. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Sir, you requested impartiality.”
Steve leaned casually against the doorway. “You talk too much.”
Tony scrambled across the polished floor and ducked under the conference table.
Steve walked in slowly.
Calm.
Measured.
“This is childish,” Steve said mildly.
“You’re participating!” Tony shot back from beneath the table.
Steve crouched slightly, peering under. “I didn’t have much choice.”
Tony rolled out the other side and sprinted again.
⸻
Meanwhile, Sam had made the strategic error of laughing too loudly.
Steve heard it from two corridors away.
Sam realised this at the exact moment Steve rounded the corner.
“Oh no.”
Steve didn’t even break stride.
Sam bolted.
They tore through the lounge area, knocking over exactly one decorative cushion and upsetting absolutely nothing else because Steve, annoyingly, was still considerate mid-chase.
“Why are you still neat?!” Sam shouted.
“Habit!”
Sam made a sharp turn toward the stairwell.
Steve anticipated it.
Cut him off.
And with a smooth, controlled movement, tapped Sam’s shoulder.
The wristband on Steve’s arm flashed green.
Sam’s lit up red.
Friday chimed again.
“Sam is now ‘It.’”
Sam froze.
Steve gave him a polite nod. “Hydrate.”
“Don’t you dare use that voice.”
But Steve was already jogging away, suspiciously relaxed.
⸻
Chaos spread.
Clint attempted stealth. Failed immediately.
Natasha played mind games, doubling back and nearly tagging Sam twice.
Tony tried to bribe Friday.
“I built you.”
“Sir, I am aware.”
“Show loyalty.”
“I am loyal to chaos.”
Tony muttered something about ungrateful artificial intelligence and nearly ran face-first into Steve again — who was no longer It, but very much enjoying spectating.
“You look happy,” Tony accused.
Steve leaned against the wall, arms folded. “It’s good cardio.”
“This was supposed to inconvenience you.”
“It did,” Steve admitted. “For about twelve seconds.”
Sam came sprinting around the corner like a man possessed.
“TONY.”
Tony shrieked and ran.
⸻
It ended on Level 40.
Clint had barricaded himself in the media room with a rolling chair wedged under the door handle.
Sam burst in anyway and finally tagged him.
Collapsed on the floor dramatically.
Friday’s voice filled the Tower.
“Game complete. Winner: Captain Rogers.”
There was a long pause.
Tony, sprawled across the carpet upstairs, stared at the ceiling. “He wasn’t even It for most of it.”
Natasha brushed invisible dust from her sleeve. “He didn’t need to be.”
Steve walked into the common room a few minutes later, not even winded.
“You’re all very loud,” he observed.
“You’re very smug,” Tony shot back.
Steve considered that.
“…Fair.”
Clint groaned from the sofa. “Remind me never to play childhood games with super soldiers again.”
Tony sat up slowly.
“This isn’t over.”
Steve arched a brow. “No?”
Tony pointed at him.
“Next time, we add drones.”
Steve smiled faintly.
“Next time,” he replied calmly, “I start as It.”
And somehow—
That was worse.