Hi there! This is gonna be a short story, less than ten chapters, to bridge the gap between one-shots. Oh, and also to give you all a little humor after the angst-bucket that was Dissension.
(I'm still not sorry.)
Also, this is probably the suckiest first chapter I've ever written, but you should've see the first version.
I duck the foot aimed at my head, reaching up and lifting it in hopes of getting my opponent off balance. They're expecting this, though, so they yank their foot downward, forcing me to let go or risk hitting the floor.
They swing a punch at my face, and I meet it with an arm lock, getting both of us into a tangled mess.
The other person goes still for a moment before using their other arm to grab my leg and pull, sending me falling onto the mats with a thud and a whoosh of lost air.
"Ouch," I moan. I crack open an eye to see Natasha's emerald eyes staring back at me. "Was that necessary?"
"Yeah," she says, as if it were obvious, as she moves off me and rocks back on her haunches. "Why would it not be?"
"I hate you," I moan as I slowly move into a hunched sitting position, my synthetic-spandex shirt coming unstuck from my skin with a gross sucking noise.
"No you don't," Natasha counters, her eyes catching something behind me. "Oh, look who's here. Hey, birthday boy."
"It's not my birthday yet, Nat," a warm voice behind me calls. "Nine years, and you still don't get that. It's sad, really."
I gingerly move to face Clint, who had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a small backpack secured on his back. "Hey. You all packed?"
He nods as he slowly helps me up, my sore muscles protesting every movement. "So how bad did you lose this time?"
"I didn't-"
"She only lasted two minutes forty. I think sparrow is distracted."
"Am not," I defend, glaring over my shoulder at Natasha.
"Sorry," Clint apologizes, "but I'm with Natasha on this."
"Really feeling the love, Clint," I mutter. "Really."
He just rolls his eyes and hitches the duffel higher on my shoulder. "So do you have any plans while I'm away?"
"I've got some plans for finalizing Beta V," I confess as we slowly move out of the gym. "I'm working on adjusting the G-Force absorption systems in order to achieve higher speeds at maximum velocity."
Clint nods, thankfully used to me spouting technical terms to understand that I'm just making it safer for me to go faster. "Yeah, wouldn't want you to fall to pieces."
"Thanks," I drawl. "Love you too."
Clint just gives me a charming smile that has been proven to make me melt into a puddle of goo every time.
"You're both sickening," Natasha declares, slipping between us and into the elevator.
"And you're just jealous," I tease as I lean stiffly against the elevator wall.
We step out onto the top floor of the Tower – which contained a small lounge area, kitchenette, suit disassembly platform, and about five different general armories – to see that Dad and Bucky were all packed and waiting, with Steve and Darcy just milling around, Thor being currently MIA.
"What took you so long, birdbrain?" Dad demands.
"Mental preparation for a weekend with you," Clint fires back, the retort lacking any real heat.
Dad ignores him, instead addressing the room at a whole. "Say your goodbyes, children. The bus leaves in three minutes."
Everyone scurries into smaller groups, and I let Natasha say goodbye to her best friend before leaving to go say goodbye to my dad, of all people.
"Are you gonna miss me?" Clint asks impishly.
"Not at all," I grin. "Dummy, You, and Butterfingers are great sources of emotional comfort."
"I see how it is," Clint laughs. "Smooching up to the bots whenever I leave town."
"Don't worry, you don't have to worry about me running off with a hunk of metal," I quip, playing along.
"One minute!" Dad calls.
Clint pulls me into a gentle hug, minding my stiff torso. "Take care of yourself, sparrow. Don't make me sic Nat on you."
"Ye of little faith," I sigh dramatically.
"Don't act like it's never happened before."
"I know," I sigh again. "Alright, you should get going before Dad blows a gasket."
"But that'd be funny," Clint complains.
"It is," I agree, "but didn't you want to have fun in Vegas? That means you have to break him after you get there."
"Spoil sport," Clint grumbles, but pulls me in for a kiss. "See you on the eleventh, then?"
I nod as my dad shouts something behind Clint and gently nudge my boyfriend towards where Bucky and Dad were waiting. I return Bucky's wave as he shuffles away from Steve and lean a hip against the armchair as the trio disappears up the roof access stairs.
"No, you hang up first," a voice says behind me, in a poor imitation of what I think was supposed to be me.
I turn to look at Natasha. "We are nothing like that."
"If it helps," Darcy interjects from atop a barstool, "I've seen worse couples than you."
"It doesn't help," I sigh, sinking slowly onto the couch, sprawling out and snatching the remote from Darcy.
"Hey! I was watching that!" she whines.
I ignore her as I flip through the channels.
"I want a bet," Natasha declares suddenly, making us all pause and look at her.
"On what?" I ask hesitantly – the words 'Natasha' and 'bet' didn't usually go in the same sentence, and when they did, it usually ended in pain for someone other than Natasha.
"I bet that one of the Three Musketeers will get hitched by the end of the weekend," she challenges.
"To…whom?" Steve asks slowly. "Each other, one of us, a random stranger they stumble upon…what?"
"I'll put in twenty on the random stranger thing," Darcy offers. "You wouldn't believe how many comments you guys get where they're rabid fangirls and fanboys asking for your hand in marriage. Sometimes all at once."
I shudder. Darcy had been hired on as the social media consultant for the Avengers – essentially, she ran, edited, and monitored our Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, so on and so forth. I didn't envy her one bit.
"My original bet was each other," Natasha admits. "They'll get so hammered that they'll think it's a good idea to marry one of the others."
I consider this for a moment before announcing, "I'll bet twenty against that."
Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yep."
"Even knowing who your father is?" she challenges.
"He's unpredictable," I counter. "Which is why I know why I'm doing. Twenty on no marriages."
Natasha just shrugs and relaxes back against the couch.
"Unpredictability runs in the family," Darcy mutters, but I pointedly ignore her.
About ten minutes later Steve speaks up again. "Am I the only one who thinks this is going to end badly?"
"No," I deny. "My dad's been to Vegas a total of four times before this for something or other and none of the ended well."
"Such optimism," Darcy snorts.
"What?" I defend. "It's true. And we sent the top three troublemakers, too."
"We didn't think this through, did we?" Natasha sighs.
"We didn't," Steve agrees.
"Well, at least we've got time before it all starts," I remind them, settling on a movie that was just starting. "Who wants to watch Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull?"
Steve agrees, intent on catching up on modern media, as Natasha gets up to get popcorn.
The opening credits roll on screen, and I settle in to watch, pointedly ignoring the problems that loomed on the horizon.