"I swear to God Peter, if you roll one more snake eyes I'm going to choke you with that tiny metal cat." It was safe to say that although Tony had made enough financially sound decisions to expand his father's company into a multibillion dollar empire, Monopoly was not something he excelled at.
"I can't help it Mr. Stark, the dice do what they wanna do - oh my God, I landed on free parking that's like - "
"That's like enough money to call it a night, Kid, we can finish tomorrow." If you asked Peter, he could tell you that this was only because Tony was facing mass bankruptcy in approximately two rolls, but if you asked Tony, he'd swear on Bucky's left arm it was because the kid had a Spanish quiz tomorrow.
"No, Mr. Stark, you're just saying that because you know I'm winning! C'mon, just because I beat you to Ventnor Avenue doesn't mean you won't get it next time. Look, I'll give you St. Charles place in exchange for thirty more minutes." Peter handed out the card to him, and goddammit if Tony didn't want to take it and try to kick the little punks ass for thirty more minutes, but he remembered May's disappointed glare when Peter had gotten his last Spanish test back, and it might not have scared Peter, but it definitely scared him.
"Kid, I am not trying to con you out of mass corporate success through the hotel business, but it's a school night, and it's almost morning." Tony checked his watch, and the bright numbers flashed back at him. 11:46. God, Tony was getting old. Since when did he consider any time before midnight late? Since when did Tony even get tired?
It didn't look like it mattered how tired or awake Tony was, because Peter had enough energy to compensate for both of them. And Steve. And Bucky. And Clint. And Natasha. Hell, Peter and his stupid little shoe could run laps around Tony's boat, Steve's car, Clint's iron, Bucky's hat, and Nat's thimble, no matter how many ways she knew how to kill someone with one.
"Tony is right Peter, it's time for bed, you have to be up at six to make the drive to midtown. You're one tardy away from being truant." Of course Clint would be on Tony's side. He was such a dad. Brush your teeth, wash your hair, eat your vitamins, go to bed at a reasonable hour, don't put a hotel on Marvin Gardens, I'll go bankrupt. Peter couldn't be expected to do all of those things, especially the last couple. It was impossible.
"It's not my fault that Steve makes the best pancakes in the tristate area. Don't be mad, take it as a compliment." Peter said diplomatically. If he could get Steve on his side, he was sure to help him sweet talk the rest of the game.
"Peter, what if I told you that I would pack you pancakes in your lunch tomorrow if you gave me a free pass the next time I hit Boardwalk."
"No! Rogers, you are not helping. Peter, it's time for bed. Either that, or we can go over Spanish conjugations one last time, your choice." Peter pouted. He was one turn away from kicking Clint, Tony, and Bucky out of the game, all in one swoop, but of course he had to go to bed now. Because high school. He even almost got Nat out, but it seemed like the moment anyone got distracted, two hundreds would mysteriously disappear from the bank, where Steve was confusedly doling out money, and being manipulated into feeding Nat a small fortune underneath the coffee table. She laughed quietly.
"I think you're being overruled, spider-kid, c'mon, lets go, I'm turning in too." She held her hand out to help Peter up from the pile of cushions he had managed to stockpile for himself. He looked around the dimly lit room. Tony, smirking at him from the couch, Steve, counting his money and trying to understand where his remaining two hundred dollars had disappeared to, Bucky, laying down next to Steve, who had promptly fallen asleep after being told he could stay in jail for three turns, and Clint, who was racing the wheelbarrow and the boat across the board like an eight year old.
"Fine, I concede, but don't think this is over. After I kick that Spanish test in the ass, I'm going to be back tomorrow to kick all of your collective asses, just you wait." And with that, Nat pulled him out of the room to bed.