A/N: Written to fill a prompt at be_compromised, this drabble just happened. Consider it a little "happy hour" fun.
Disheveled and tired. That's what she thought of her appearance as she passed the large mirror. Finally at Stark Tower, the three battle-worn Avengers exited the elevator and walked down the hallway to the common area – more specifically, the bar. The Black Widow trailed behind a wobbly Tony Stark and in front of a sleep walking Hawkeye.
"Going to kill Fury… but tomorrow," stated the weary Stark. "Yeah, tomorrow."
"Please tell me you had the refrigeration system repaired," said Natasha almost pleadingly. "There's nothing I want more than a cold beer. Except, maybe, a hot shower."
Suddenly Tony stopped walking. As testament to her exhaustion, Nat actually ran into him. "What the hell, Stark?"
"Umm, well, the beer frig should be ice cold. But, it's probably empty," and he winced.
Without a word or sideways glance, Natasha glided over to the appliance in question. As she swung the door open, she was greeted to the sight of a single brown bottle.
"Ladies before gentlemen," quipped Clint from behind her. "You should let the lady have the last beer, Stark."
Both Tony and Natasha turned to glare at the archer. "What?" Clint asked.
They continued to stare at him with looks that simultaneously echoed 'who you callin lady?'
"Ok, ok," he relented with hands in the air. "Let the record show that chivalry is dead."
As Tony and Natasha turned their attention to the lone, frosty bottle, Tony snapped his fingers. He turned to Natasha. "There's only one fair way to settle this, Widow. I'll flip you for it," he said excitedly with a huge grin on his face.
Both Natasha and Clint stared at him with jaws agape.
"Stark, you're so tired that you've lost your mind," said Clint.
"No way, Arrow. I figure it's better to be lucky than good. But, when you're me, you're both. Or… I'm both… whatever! It's settled. I'll flip you for it." And he turned to face Natasha.
"Fine. I could just kill you where you stand as I drink the beer, but we'll do it your way. On the count of Barton's three?"
"Sure," said Tony as he reached in his pocket.
Barton began the countdown. "One."
Nat stood still as Tony put his hand in his front pocket.
"Two."
Nat took a cleansing breath as Tony took his hand from his pocket.
"Three."
As Tony threw a coin in the air, Natasha grabbed the arm he held out, swept his legs out from under him, and flipped him over.
As Tony stared up at her with disbelieving eyes, her smile faded as she caught sight of the silver quarter rolling across the poured concrete floor and spinning to a stop about six feet away. Clint's laughter filled the room.
As recognition dawned on her, all the Black Widow could offer was a quiet "Oh…" as she twisted the cap off of the bottle and downed the frigid beverage in a few satisfying gulps.