Life With The Avengers
In which Pepper has had enough of the Avengers acting like children. Natasha couldn't agree more. Action must be taken.
Pepper growled a few choice words under her breath as she shuffled sleepily into the communal kitchen in the Avengers Tower. The cupboard door was open, Pop-Tart crumbs scattered all over the stove and Thor was perched on a stool, Pop-Tart box in hand and about six in his mouth.
"Lady Pepper!" He cried around a mouthful of pastry, "It is a fine morning, is it not?"
Pepper glared at him pointedly and then let her eyes slowly scan the mess of wrappers, crumbs and open Pop-Tart boxes, "Maybe for you."
As usual, she was probably the one who was going to clean up the resulting mess and then venture out to the convenience store to buy another two value packs – each one with at least fifteen in each one.
He swallowed the blueberry Pop-Tart and stuck his hand in the box, his happy demeanour vanishing as he peered inside the box. "No!" He cried, shaking the box as though more Pop-Tarts would magically appear if he rattled it around.
Walking forwards, Pepper plucked the box from his hand, pummelled it into a squashed cardboard pulp and stormed out of the kitchen, box in hand. Thor blinked as she left, wondering what had made her so mad.
"God...damn...stupid...Avengers...always acting like children..." She muttered as she stalked through the twisting maze of rooms.
She stopped by an open door, her neck craning to peer inside. Pepper Potts was not normally a violent person, but at the sight of Clint's arrows scattered haphazardly all over his floor, she nearly punched the wall in frustration.
This was the eighth time it had happened. That week. Sighing, Pepper scooped them up into her hand and promptly stepped on an arrowhead. She yelped in pain and bent down to rub the sole of her foot. Her hand tightened around the cluster of arrows and she smirked as the snap of carbon reached her ears.
Something had to be done about this. And Pepper Potts was going to do it.
...
She leant forwards on her shopping cart, shoulders caved forwards and her sunglasses slipping down her nose. "Pop-Tarts..." she muttered as she pushed the cart forwards.
Her eyes scanned the rows of Pop-Tart boxes. So many flavours... she cursed under her breath before trailing her finger over the boxes.
"Eenie...meenie...mienee...mo!" Her hand closed around a box of value-pack cinnamon Pop-Tarts and she smiled with dark satisfaction, her other hand fishing in her jeans pocket for her phone.
Pepper unlocked the phone and dialled a number she knew so well she didn't have to even look at her StarkPhone to see the numbers.
"Pepper?" The familiar voice crackled out from the phone.
"Hey, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me on a little...project." Pepper said with her phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear.
"Oh. Right. Y'know, Pepper, there's nothing I'd like more." The voice said knowingly and Pepper could hear the mischievous undertone in their voice.
In the TV room in the Avengers Tower, Natasha Romanoff smirked as she twisted her fingers together. Pepper hung up the phone and the Russian spy glanced around at the sleeping Clint, Thor, Steve, Bruce and Tony.
"Sorry, boys," she said mockingly, "sometimes drastic measures need to be taken."
With that, the ex-assassin strode confidently out of the den, heels clicking on the marble floor and her red hair bobbing up and down.
...
After shooing the boys out of the kitchen with the allure of a new movie she'd rented,Natasha returned, a small plastic syringe in her hand.
Pepper pulled the fridge door open and swept a vast arrangement of condiments into her open arms. Mayonnaise, mustard, strawberry jam, ketchup, a tub of half melted mint-choc-chip ice cream, pickles, balsamic vinegar and bicarbonate soda – God knew why Tony had decided to put it in the fridge.
"Never thought you had it in you, Pepper." Natasha said, smirking coolly. She marched over to the strawberry blonde who was turning the balsamic vinegar bottle over in her hands, eyes scanning down the row of toppings and sauces.
"Neither did I," Pepper replied grimly, squatting down to retrieve a large plastic jug, "but then things got worse."
The redhead shrugged and hoisted herself up onto the bench, her legs dangling off the edge. "Hey, JARVIS?" She asked the AI who promptly responded in his crisp British accent.
"Yes, Agent Romanoff?"
"Please record the footage in the den from when Pepper enters with lunch until I tell you to stop." Natasha replied, eyes flashing with mischief.
"Planning something are we, Agent Romanoff, Ms Potts?" The AI responded and Pepper simply smiled.
"Time will tell, JARVIS, time will tell." She shook her reddish blonde hair out so it hung loose around her shoulders and bunched it into a bun that rested at the nape of her neck.
A quick glance at her watch told Pepper that it was almost lunchtime; they had a short window of fifteen minutes to get this done.
Unscrewing the tops of the pickle jar, the mayo jar, the mustard jar and the balsamic vinegar bottle, she emptied the contents into the blender. She licked the bottom of the mint-choc-chip ice cream lid and pressed her lips together. The bicarbonate soda was emptied in, the fine white particles settling in a heap on top of the lump of ice cream. Natasha squeezed the ketchup in and added a large dollop of strawberry jam for good measure.
She placed the top of the blender on and pressed the button, the soft whir of the machine buzzing gently in her ears.
As soon as the machine was done, she uncapped the blender and the smell of ketchup-mayo-mustard-mint-choc-chip-ice-cream-jam- balsamic-vinegar-and-pickle-sauce wafted around the room.
Pepper coughed, her eyes watering slightly. She rubbed at her eyes and choked out, "God, that's disgusting."
She shook her head to clear her senses, "JARVIS, room spray, please."
The scent of Pepper's favourite lemon–scented shampoo floated through the air. Natasha slid back off the bench and poured the disgusting mixture into a large plastic bowl, syringe in hand.
She stuck the needle in the bowl, watched the liquid trail up into the tube and pulled it back out, "Pepper, the box."
Pepper gleefully complied, her hand reaching up for the value pack of cinnamon Pop-Tarts. She handed them to the Russian who promptly unwrapped one and pushed the needle in, the liquid trailing down into the pastry.
Fourteen Pop-Tarts later, Pepper slid them all onto a platter, smirked at Natasha as strode out to the den.
...
"Boys! Lunch!" After hearing no reply, Pepper entered the TV room to find the men slouched in their chair, Thor sleeping on an unsuspecting Clint (his snoring shaking the room), Steve sitting up straight in his chair, his head lolling to the side and Tony absently fidgeting with a small piece of his shirt.
Bruce was polishing his glasses with the hem of his shirt, none of the men interested in the movie playing at all. Pepper took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs, "LUNCH!"
Thor jolted up, eyes alighting on the plate of Pop-Tarts. "Brothers in arms, lunch has arrived! Make haste, we must eat!"
Clint shot up out of his seat, his expression nearly mimicking Thor's. "Food?"
Pepper rolled her eyes, "Don't you dare give me that crap, Clint Barton. Breakfast was, what, two hours ago?"
"C'mon Pepper." whined the archer persistently.
Pepper sighed, expertly hiding her gleeful excitement as she walked forwards and set the platter down on the table in the den.
Spinning on her heel, she pushed the door open with her hand and added as an afterthought, "You'd better not make any mess." She singsonged.
"Pop-Tarts for lunch?" Bruce asked as he settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"Do not complain, fellow comrade. These... popping-tarts shall suffice as sustenance for any meal of the day." Thor reprimanded the scientist who sighed and leaned back in his chair.
Pepper quietly shut the door behind her, chuckling as she did.
Almost immediately after the strawberry blonde left, Thor dove for the pastries. He grabbed two in each hand and shoved two in his mouth.
Clint followed suit as Banner raised his eyebrows. Steve shrugged and took two, chewing on one thoughtfully as Tony shovelled three in his mouth. Thor's eyes bulged, his face turned a nasty shade of red and his expression turned to one of disgust. He spat the pastry out, tongue hanging out as he desperately searched for a glass of water.
Clint ran towards the corner and proceeded to throw up violently and coughed until his throat was raw. He gasped for air and proceeded to retch. "Mint-choc-chip? That's foul." He said, his hands on his knees.
Poor Steve was in the bathroom, scrubbing his tongue with a paper towel, desperately trying to get the awful taste off his tongue.
Up in the Russian spy's room, Pepper and Natasha were on the floor laughing, clutching their stomachs with tears streaming from their eyes.
Pepper did feel kind of bad pranking the super soldier, but his reaction was so funny it was worth it. "J-JARVIS?" She managed between bouts of giggling at Tony's horrified expression.
"Yes, Ms Potts?" The AI responded.
"Are you r-recording this?" She wheezed, doubling over as Clint stood up, his face pallid and sickly.
"Every second, Ms Potts." JARVIS reassured her.
"Pepper!" Tony wailed from on screen as he desperately swallowed cup on cup of water. She buried her face in the pillow as she laughed.
After a little while, Natasha spoke up, "Pepper, you know they're gonna prank us back. And they're gonna make it as humiliating as humanly possible."
"I know, Tasha. It was fun though."
"Mhmn."
Back down in the den, Clint Barton wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said wickedly, "This is war."
This statement was met with a loud, "Hell yeah!" from every Avenger in the room. They smirked.
Pep and Tasha weren't gonna know what hit them.
...
First Avengers fanfic, how'd I do? Please tell me! Thanks!