Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.
Summary: The Hulk meets his match.
It wasn't funny.
But it kind of was.
The Avengers Tower was the most technologically advanced, privately owned, building in America. Said buildings kitchen was full of the most up-to-date gadgets available, which were currently strewn across the area in complete disarray. The microwave had been thrown through the refrigerator door; said refrigerator was making a strange moaning sound like a wounded cow, and the blender appeared to be eating the can opener. The remaining appliances, no longer identifiable, were in bits and pieces on the floor, counter, and sticking out of the walls.
Sitting in the exact center of this mess? A large green man the size, and several dozen times stronger than, an elephant.
Pouting.
Apparently, Bruce Banner had decided he was hungry and, making his was up to the kitchen from the lab for the first time in days, had raided the, now slowly dying, refrigerator. He picked the wrong snack. The Hulk had made an appearance after Bruce's decision hadn't panned out. His yells of rage had drawn the rest of the Avengers, and their laughter had drawn Pepper. The group was now slowly dying of laughter at the scene before them.
Steve could only stare, hiding his snickers behind his hand. Pepper had already given in to her giggles and was now using the super-soldier for support. Natasha was smiling. Clint and Thor were rolling on the floor, laughing uncontrollably,, and slowly turning blue from lack of air. Tony was beating the ground with his fists and tears streaming down his face.
The Hulk, not impressed with his friends lack of sympathy, settled further into his pout and kicked his foot. This action caused the reason for his attitude to tip and roll across the floor, stopping next to Steve's left foot. Steve raised one eyebrow at the Hulk and the creature had the decency to at least look sheepish.
"Hulk want pickle…"