A/N: I kept trying to talk my friend Sherry into writing a fanfic. I finally got her to do it by convincing her we should do a collaborative work. We started this back in February, and Sherry just wrote the ending the other day. So here it is—the combined efforts of two Marvel fans bouncing off of each others' writing styles. Enjoy!
Clint had just returned from a three-day solo mission in Ecuador. He walked into the main room and sat down on the couch beside Natasha.
"How was South America?" she asked, looking up from her book.
"Hot," he answered. "How have things been here?"
Across the room, Tony and Bruce were in the middle of a rousing scientific debate, and Thor was trying to talk Steve into having a Pop-Tart-eating contest.
"Loud," Natasha said flatly.
"So the usual, then?"
"Yeah, the usual. You look tired."
"Yeah, I'm a little sleepy. Rough couple of days," Clint rested his chin on her shoulder and peered at the book in her hands. "Whatcha readin'?"
The language was old—really old. Clint didn't recognize it, so he craned his neck downward until his head was actually resting in her lap as he tried to get a glimpse of the cover.
"Shakespeare? I didn't know you liked Shakespeare. I didn't know you liked any literature in English. In fact, I've hardly seen you read before."
"I have more time now." Natasha moved her book aside so she could meet his curious eyes. "And Stark actually has a decent library." At Clint's raised brows, she replied, "Unexpected, I know."
Clint smiled sleepily up at her. "Read something to me."
Natasha tried to look inconvenienced, but he had already closed his eyes and settled down comfortably. She relented, and after finding her place on the page, began to read aloud while her free hand played in his hair.
"Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo."
Natasha stopped to mutter something in Russian, and Clint smiled through the haze of sleep that was already descending on him.
As Natasha went back to reading silently, Bruce wandered over and sat in the chair opposite her. Natasha glanced over her shoulder; judging by Tony's smirk, it looked like Bruce had lost the argument.
"You two fight about science more than Clint and I fight about...everything." Natasha remarked, turning back to face the doctor.
Bruce shrugged and smiled shyly. "I don't mind," he said. "I kind of like it. Tony's the only person who's not afraid to start an argument with me."
His eyes moved to the coffee table between them, where a chess board sat with all the pieces arranged, standing still and ready, like soldiers awaiting the order to march. He gestured to it and raised his eyebrows at Natasha, half questioning, half expectant.
"It's been there all day," she said. "I don't know who set it up."
"Well," Bruce said. "Shall we?"
"All right," Natasha set her book aside and leaned forward slightly, being careful not to move too much and disturb her partner.
The white pieces were on her side, so Natasha made the first move, nudging a pawn two spaces forward. Bruce studied the board for a moment, then moved one if his own pawns.
For the next half hour, the assassin and the scientist were locked in a game of strategy. Natasha's moves were calculated attempts at manipulation, subtle redirections intended to lead her opponent into a death trap. Bruce took a more analytical approach; he spent most of the game staring at the board and muttering science-y things Natasha didn't understand.
Finally Bruce shifted one of his pieces forward and said, "Check."
Natasha narrowed her eyes and studied the wooden battlefield before her, looking for a way out of Bruce's blockade.
In her lap, she felt Clint move. The archer blinked his eyes open and rolled onto his side. He took one look at the chess board, reached out and moved one of Natasha's pieces, mumbled "Checkmate," and went back to sleep.
Bruce and Natasha stared dumbfounded, first at Clint, then at the chess board, then at each other.
"Hey, that's not legal," Tony spoke up from behind Natasha. "It's against the rules to get outside help. I demand a forfeit!"
Natasha and Bruce looked up, startled to see that the rest of the team had apparently been watching the match for some time while they had been engrossed in the game.
"Since when have you been all about rules, Stark?" Steve asked with a smirk. "You're just mad that your science guy was beaten by a couple of assassins."
"Because in your mind, an exemplar of intellectual prowess could never be defeated by someone you see as a lowly master of mere physical skills," Natasha said coolly as she began setting the pieces back in starting position.
Tony grimaced and looked over at Bruce. "You seem to be on a losing streak today, Doctor."
"Nah," Bruce grinned. "I let you win our argument."
"You did not!" Tony scoffed.
"I did," Bruce insisted calmly. "You wanna go to the lab and I'll prove it?"
Tony's face lit up. "Absolutely. Bring it on, big man. And hey, speaking of the lab, I made a sign for us to hang on the door."
He went over to the nearby counter and removed a small piece of poster board from a drawer, holding it close to his chest. With a smirk and a flourish, he flipped it around, revealing the words written in Sharpie on the other side: SCIENCE BROS ONLY. NO DEMI-GODS, ASSASSINS, OR CAPSICLES ALLOWED.
Bruce chuckled and the two of them left the room together.
"So help me, Stark," Steve called after them. "If you blow up another jack-in-the-box..."
"That was Brucie's fault," Tony said over his shoulder.
"It was not!" Bruce protested, and the rest of the argument faded to muffled sounds as the two scientists disappeared down the hallway.
Thor, still munching on a Pop-Tart, chose that moment to speak up. "How does one play this game? It seems a fitting pastime for a warrior."
"Here, I'll show you. The rules aren't complicated to learn, but strategy is another story," Steve answered. He slid the board down the table so he could sit next to Natasha without making her move and disturb the still-sleeping Clint.
A muffled thump sounded from the floor above them, and a moment later Tony and Bruce burst into the main room, both gasping and covered in black smoke.
"That was most definitely not a jack-in-the-box," Tony said, hunching over and placing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "JARVIS has it under control up there. And yes, Dr. Banner, it turns out you were right."
Bruce smirked at him, his teeth gleaming white in contrast to the dark smudges on his face. "And?"
"Oh c'mon, are you gonna make me say more than that?" Tony protested, straightening. "C'mon, be nice, Brucie—look, I'm havin' lunch in a little while, I don't wanna fill up on crow."
"Say it," Bruce insisted, and despite Tony's wounded pride, he had to admit he was pleased to hear his normally timid friend actually being assertive about something.
"You were right—" Tony made a face, as if the next part actually pained him to say. "—I was wrong."
"That's what I wanted to hear," Bruce gave a satisfied nod.
Tony turned to the others, who had barely acknowledged their entrance. "Wow, you're kiddin' me. Another chess game? Are we having a tournament or what?"
"Thor wanted to learn how to play," Natasha cast them a side glance.
"Really?" Tony raised his eyebrows. "Gather round gentlemen, there's a good chance we may be about to witness the mighty Thor face defeat."
"Why do you expect me to lose, Tony?" Thor asked, glancing up from studying the chess board.
"Chess is a tactical game," Tony said, "and Cap is one of the best tacticians I've ever met. Brute strength won't help you in a game like this."
"I will take that into consideration," Thor said thoughtfully. He turned back to the board and listened attentively as Steve and Natasha explained the rules to him.
"Hey, great game idea right there," Tony said, turning to Bruce.
"What?" The doctor asked.
"Things where Thor's strength wouldn't help him. Go."
"Ahh…" Bruce thought for a second. "Pool."
"Takes precision to wield a cue," Tony agreed. "Hitting the ball too hard is worse than not hitting it hard enough. Good one. Ooh! Building a house of cards."
"That uh…that board game, Operation," Bruce suggested.
"Needlepoint!" Tony said, and Bruce cracked up laughing.
"Sorry," he held up one hand and pressed the other to his stomach as he tried to contain his laughter. "Sorry, it's just a really great mental picture—this towering, God-like man hunched over a tiny little needlepoint project, stitching a picture of…of a flower, or a kitten or something…" Bruce erupted into giggles again, gripping Tony's arm and dropping his forehead onto the other man's shoulder for support.
Thor put on his most godly air. "Your attempts at mockery will not affect my performance. I expect a worthy challenge will be met on both sides."
"I have no doubt, Thor," Steve replied, offering him his hand. They shook over the board.
Tony shouted, "A gentlemen's challenge! Huzzah!" They ignored him, and the game began.
For the next hour or so, Tony kept up a constant commentary, heckling both players equally, while Bruce kept one eye on the board as he sketched something on a pad and Natasha tried to ignore all of them. Natasha finished her book toward the end of the match however, and as Clint was still sound asleep, she turned her attention to the others in lieu of anything else to do. She was surprised to see that the competition seemed even, with several captured pieces on each side and no clear leader on the board. Like Tony, she had expected Steve to crush Thor quickly yet graciously. Instead, she could detect no signs of Steve holding back, and both players had almost gleeful smiles, clearly enjoying the challenge.
"Oohhh!" Tony pulled an exaggerated wince. "Thor's bishop swoops in out of nowhere, eliminating Cap's rook and placing the king in check. With his last stronghold broken down, how will Captain America survive this gruesome and bloody battle raging before him?"
"Hey," Bruce nudged Tony's shoulder. "Can you imagine a chess board where the pieces break and spill red liquid on the board when they're taken out?"
Tony grinned. "And you could put the pieces back together and refill them at the end."
"And the fake blood on the board would wash off easily," Bruce suggested.
"Or..." Tony raised his eyebrows eagerly, "it could be permanent, and the more you played, the more bloodstains would accumulate, so you could tell by looking at the board just how much or how little it had been used."
"That's a great idea," Bruce nodded. "You should design that."
"Geez, Stark," They turned toward the voice and saw Clint sit up and run a hand through his bristly hair. "You've gone and corrupted Banner."
"Corrupted him? Me?" Tony asked in a mock-offended tone, his hand splayed across his chest, conveying innocence.
"Yeah, Bruce," Natasha added. "Since when do you talk about morbid chess battles?...You know, even as I said that sentence, it just sounded weird."
Bruce shrugged and glanced at his fellow scientist. "I don't know, Tony just brings out that side of me."
"See?" Clint said. "Corrupted him."
Tony threw an arm around Bruce's shoulders. "It is my honor to have done so. You, my dear man, are now one of my crowning achievements."
"Really?" Bruce said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "I'm one of your crowning achievements? Am I above or below your suits and your billions of dollars?"
"Eh, somewhere in between," Tony waved his free hand. "It's a sliding scale."
Clint rolled his eyes and turned to Natasha. "What'd I miss?"
"Well," Tasha began, "Tony was mad that you beat his science buddy while you were half-asleep, Steve taught Thor how to play chess, Tony and Bruce blew up the lab again—"
"Just part of it." Tony interjected.
"—Thor mastered chess surprisingly quickly, and Newt and Herm over there decided it would be hilarious if a huge Asgardian did needlepoint."
Clint gave her a funny look. "And you let me sleep through all that?"
"You looked adorable," Natasha said with a shrug.
Meanwhile, Steve had been staring at the board for several minutes, analyzing and calculating and considering every course of action. It wasn't looking good for him; in the last couple of moves, Thor had gained the upper hand, trapping most of his remaining pieces and moving in on his king. The only piece Steve had behind Thor's offensive line was a knight, and the knight had always been Steve's least favorite piece. Its odd way of moving had always felt awkward to him, and he usually used it sparingly. Now, however, it was his only hope. He forced himself to adjust his thinking, to see the board in L-shaped pieces…
"Oh." Steve's subdued exclamation was enough to silence the growing ruckus around him as they all returned their attention to the game. He reached out, made a single move with his knight, and said calmly, "Checkmate."
There was another minute of silence as they all inspected the layout of the board. It was indeed a checkmate. Then the ruckus burst out anew.
"You have vanquished me. I thank you for the valiant contest." Thor offered Steve his hand as he grinned with his usual unshakeable good nature.
"Well, what do you know. The old man hasn't gone senile yet. Good job, Gramps." Tony glanced over at Bruce's sketchpad and his face lit up in delight. "And now, please excuse me while I find a frame for this." Bruce protested as Tony grabbed the pad and turned it around for the rest to see: it was a pencil drawing of the soldier and the god, standing on a chessboard-like battlefield, their pieces surrounding them like armies.
Tony ran off with it, insisting that he was going to hang it in the main common area, and Bruce followed, still protesting. Steve started to put the board back in order once more as Thor stood, expressing interest in more Pop-Tarts and moving toward the kitchen.
"Well played, Steve." Natasha favored him with one of her rare smiles as he also stood to leave.
"Thanks, Nat." Steve smiled back before leaving the two spies alone on the couch.
Clint stretched and yawned, then glanced at the chessboard. "What do you say? Up for a match?"
"Maybe another time. You look like you could use some more sleep. And it wouldn't be fun to beat you at an advantage."
"Fair enough. Oh, I brought you something." Clint started searching his various pockets. "You remember that little shop in Paris, across from your favorite café?"
"Yeah. What were you doing in Paris?"
"Layover at the safe house. Anyway, I stopped in and they had something I thought you might like—here it is."
Clint finally pulled a small cardboard gift box from his vest pocket and opened it. Inside was a delicate necklace, a silver chain with a tiny arrow charm on it. Natasha smiled a bigger smile than he had seen in a long time as she reached out to lift it from the box.
"Thank you. It's—lovely." She clasped it around her neck and stood to see the effect in a small mirror on the wall. She turned back and smiled at him again, and then bent to give him the lightest kiss on the forehead.
"You're welcome." Clint stood and crossed to the door. Hearing it close behind him as he made his way down the hall toward his room, he said softly, "Your move, Romanoff."