Soli Deo gloria
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Avengers. Or Trivial Pursuit. Or Parcheesi. Or Sparknotes. Or the Three Musketeers. Or any of the questions and answers in Trivial Pursuit.
My sisters and I were joking that we hate playing our 1981 version of Trivial Pursuit because we're so terrible at it and I realized that the Avengers would have so much fun cracking at it. So here is the uncalled for fic of all my O.G. Avengers+ just hanging out and having fun before some of them die. :)
"So, that's done," Tony said, shrugging as he looked at Professor Hulk for a reaction.
"It won't take more than a few hours for the lines to charge—then we can have a test round," Professor Hulk agreed.
"Lang gonna be your test runner?" Tony wondered, his eyes flying over this huge . . . 'time machine', for lack of a better word, that he, Scott, and Professor Hulk joined together to totally trick out.
"Probably. Natasha should be back any minute with Barton. We're gonna get this show on the road," Professor Hulk said.
Tony heard him but his words were muffled, like his voice carried through water. This was the culmination of some serious minds grinding away at their finest work—and here it was: a Time Machine. No longer an object of science fiction or hundreds of years into the future. Here it was, here and now, ready to kick some serious ass.
Let's hope it works. Well, combine Professor Hulk's incredible 'meager' knowledge of physics and engineering, Scott's hands-on knowledge of the Quantum Realm and its personality, with his genius GPS device for finding places within the Quantum Realm's lax grip on their time—who else in the world, in the entire universe, could've come together to make this thing? It was a million-to-one chance.
Well, a fourteen-million-six-hundred-thousand-five-to-one chance.
This was their one chance. Had to, had to, had to be.
"Paint won't dry if you watch it," Professor Hulk joked, pulling Tony out of his reflective, contemplative stupor.
Tony mopped a hand over his tired eyes. "No, let's let it be." Part of him wanted to sink down on a sofa and snooze 'til the cows came home. He and Professor Hulk and Scott stayed up late nights figuring this thing out, completing each other's thoughts even as they punched holes in the others' theories. Tony wasn't quite an expert on quantum physics and Scott only knew like, five hours' worth of hands-on learning, but he kinda blended in with him and Bruce like he was the third missing Science Bro no one knew they needed until he showed up yelling at their front gate.
"We should relax." Professor Hulk clapped a giant green hand on Tony's slumped shoulder. "We got a long mission ahead of us."
"We should." But Tony didn't want to sleep away the hours. He was too wide awake, too excited. This was the first scrap of hope they'd had for years and the first dry run was tomorrow. Not to mention Natasha had plucked Clint out of his murderous vigilante life and was en route back to the Avengers' facility any second. After all these years, the original six Avengers were all gonna be under one roof again. He couldn't go to sleep like some old granddad. He could sleep when he was dead.
Tony's face creased with thought. Then he said, "I wanna play a board game."
Professor Hulk blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
Tony turned to Professor Hulk with two hand guns pointed at him as he walked backwards into the open elevator. "Gather everybody in the conference room in an hour. Natasha's gonna be back any minute. She knows every inch of this place. She'll know where the game closet is."
"'Game closet'? 'An hour?' Tony, what are we doing?" Bruce groaned.
"I think I'm feeling Trivial Pursuit," Tony said, just as the elevator doors closed right in front of Professor Hulk's face.
Tony barely let Natasha have a second to herself when she arrived with a cold-hearted Barton in tow. She was late—waiting for her to show up, Tony paced the compound while talking to Pepper on the phone, whiling the hour away. It was nice, hearing her voice assuring him that he was doing the right thing, the only thing he could be doing. She also put Morgan on the phone; she told her daddy all about the squirrels who now lived in her little playhouse and how she and Mommy burnt some cake mix cupcakes. "Leaving Mommy out of baking next time, 'kay, Morgan?" The second Natasha showed up, though, Tony bid a fond farewell to wife and child and pounced on her.
After he explained what he was after, Natasha gave him such a look. "We're on the verge of saving the world, and you want to play a board game?"
"Yeah. A little team-bonding activity. Keep morale up. It's been . . . what, seven years since we all went into battle together? The team's a little rusty," Tony said.
"Hmmm, now I wonder whose fault that is," Natasha smirked.
"Hey, we're letting all bygones be bygones, Romanoff," Tony reminded her.
"Yeah, I know," Natasha said. The Sokovian Accords kinda paled in the face of worldwide genocide. Maybe, if the Avengers had never split over the Accords, if they'd faced Thanos as a team the first time, they wouldn't be doing this now. She stifled the thought and also stifled a little smile as she said, "There are some in a filing cabinet in my desk. Sometimes we play trans-web poker during channel meetings."
Tony snapped his fingers. "Knew you'd have some. I don't care what Bruce says. You can be predictable." Clint emerged behind Natasha, wearing sunglasses to look cooler. In reality, they just made him look broken and sad. Tony's face hardened. "Barton." It'd been a while, since the whole Civil War thing and house arrest thing and Barton's family getting dusted thing. Let bygone be bygones. He nodded sympathetically.
Clint nodded back. "Stark," he said in a flat voice.
"Ten minutes of recovery from the road, then we're all meeting in the conference room. I think we'll have to have teams," Tony said.
Clint gave his back such a look as he entered the Avengers' facility. "What are we doing?"
"If we're doing Parcheesi, I claim red," Natasha said. Her fingers played against her hair. "I'm always Team Red."
"If we're playing teams, I'll only play if I'm on your team," Clint said. His eyes sighed as he took in the Avengers' facility. . . It had been a while. He breathed in deep. "I don't feel like playing any games right now."
Natasha rubbed a reassuring hand against his tight shoulder. "Let's get you settled in, Clint."
As confused by Tony as he was, Professor Hulk delivered. Ten minutes later, the entire team was collected around the conference room table. Leading one side of the table was Tony, flanked by Rhodey, Natasha, Bruce, and Nebula. Steve had Scott, Clint, Thor, and Rocket. It wasn't deliberate—well, maybe subconsciously it was.
"Cap'n," Tony said.
"Stark," Steve said.
Tony's face broke and Steve smiled. "It's okay, guys. We're reconciled," Tony said. "You know, for the sake of saving the world and everything."
"Well thank goodness," Professor Hulk said, standing at the head of the table. He produced Trivial Pursuit. "Who's ready for a friendly game of Trivial Pursuit?"
The reactions ranged across the table. Scott looked like a kid on Christmas morning, his thumping legs brimming with energy; Thor looked despondent as he stared at nothing and held a beer mug in hand; Clint looked a little like Nick Fury; like, 'What the hell are we doing right now and why does everyone else think this is a good idea?'
Tony studied the box, his face creasing with an exuberant smile. "1981. I remember getting one of these for my birthday that year. Hadn't been widely released yet. Perks of having the old man being so rich and famous. I'm the master of this game, by the way," he told the table. "Jarvis and I must've played, what, a thousand games over that summer?"
"Did you keep a running tally of wins and losses?" Professor Hulk wondered.
"Do you realize who you're talking to? He runs tallies on races to the kitchen," Rhodes said.
"Hey, I gave that up," Tony pointed out.
"Yeah, 'cause Morgan gotten faster than him," Rhodes said off-hand to Natasha, making her smirk knowingly.
"Of course you'd pick a game only you know inside and out, Tony," Steve joked.
"I think I saw a Baby Boomer version in the game cabinet, old man. Wanna switch these out and still watch me kick your ass?" Steve inquired innocently.
Nebula's eyes flickered over the game as Professor Hulk unloaded the pieces. "What is this? A strategy exercise?" she wondered suspiciously. She almost laid her cheek against the table as she read the writing on the side of the box. She seemed nervous and curious, excited and hesitant.
"It's a game. Remember our tin foil football game?" Tony said, explaining. "This is another game. It doesn't have the same rules as tin foil football, but it's got the same purposes. It's fun. It passes the time. You can win. You don't win spoils and riches, but you get to win, so there's that."
As Tony explained the rules of engagement to Nebula, Rocket, and Thor, Thor's attention on Tony and the empty words he said—dismal and minimal at the offset—completely drifted away. His eyes landed on the token pieces. Brown, pink, orange, blue, green, and yellow—Thor rose from his slouched position. He reached past Professor Hulk as he laid out the board and Natasha willingly shuffled the cards and collected all six tokens in his large hand. He chuckled wryly to himself as he held the tiny pieces in his palm. "Six pieces. Excepting the brown—which should be red—each of these tokens correspond to an Infinity Stone."
His nine companions stopped in their low murmurs, game prep, and sullen brooding to stare at him. Thor looked up. "It's obvious, isn't it?" He gazed at the six pieces like he knew their every facet, as if maybe, just maybe—if he just had the cast golden Gauntlet on his arm—he could snap his fingers and bring everyone back. It was a fool's dream, to imagine that collecting all six Infinity Stones again would be easy. Twas but a glorious dream, but it remained just that—just a dream.
"Which is which?" Rhodes wondered.
"Each Infinity Stone can be explained with elaborate detail, but seeing as this is just a morale booster," Thor said, letting his fingers unfurl as the pieces landed back on the table, "I will restrain myself from extensive detail."
"Just give us the Sparknotes version, then," practical Clint said. He wanted to know what he was dealing with, but Thor could save the history lesson.
Thor gave him a look; his eyes squinted as his voice rose. "Is that you, Barton? I hardly recognized you—what's with the hair? It's—it's not good—"
Clint jumped to his feet; his bow blurred as it was suddenly held in position, an arrowhead pointed directly at Thor's throat.
"Clint," Natasha said in an even voice, wrapping her fingers around the back of his hand. "We're among friends."
"Tell me he's drunk. Tell me he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about," Clint said evenly through gritted teeth.
Professor Hulk raised a hand. "He is drunk, actually."
"Perpetually. Continually. Constantly. Getting him sober might be the harder mission we got here," Rocket said, folding his arms as he sat back in his chair.
Clint held his bow steady. Steve said, "Clint." One look from Cap, combined with Professor Hulk's reassurance and the weight of Natasha's pressing hand against his, brought the tip of the arrow pointed toward the ground.
"Don't give me a reason to do that again," Clint said.
Thor gave Clint an odd look, a cock of the head with squinting eyes. Rhodes leaned in toward him and said, "He lost all his family to the Snap, Thor."
"Oh! You lost your entire family, too?!" Thor croned.
"If you don't get him to shut up, I'll knock out the god of thunder myself," Tony said heatedly to Rhodes. How were they supposed to have a reconciliatory game of Trivial Pursuit if everyone was so on edge they were two seconds from pointing weapons at the person sitting across from them?
"What, am I his babysitter now?" Rhodes argued.
Rocket sighed and launched himself from his seat. He shoved Clint out of his seat and said, "I'll take on the big guy." Rocket waved a paw to Tony. "There's only six pieces and ten of us. I assume we're playing teams, here?"
"But of course."
"Fine. I pick Muscles here." Rocket's claws encased the brown piece in his hand. "In honor of this one being the odd one out." He held it out to Thor's face; Thor's nose wrinkled in distaste; it didn't correspond to an Infinity Stone—it indeed was the odd one out. "We're the Brown Team. Deal with it, okay?" Rocket said nothing about his dusted best friend being as brown as this piece, that back-talking teenage piece of wood.
"Fine." Tony scanned the table and latched onto Scott. "Quantum Realm is on my team."
Professor Hulk looked insulted and Steve rose with a protest—"If you're going to win anyway—" but Natasha grabbed the orange piece and said, "You and me, Barton."
Clint scoffed but settled in a seat next to her. "Whatever, Romanoff."
Seats were switched as teams were made up. Rhodes saw Nebula's hard face but begging eyes and nodded for her to take the seat next to him. There was room on the Pink Team.
"What, nobody wants to be on my team?" Steve said, left alone with the blue piece all to himself.
"You're enough of a team by yourself," Natasha smirked.
Professor Hulk looked at the lone piece left—the green one—and sighed. "You guys think you're funny, don't you?" he said, putting his piece in the center of the wheel's hub.
"Green for the Green Team. Also, you're two men, so you're already a team, if you were wondering why no one was falling over everyone else to join you," Tony said.
"Fighting words from a man who grabbed the third smartest man in the room to join him, as if he didn't think he was genius enough already," Professor Hulk jabbed mildly.
"Wow, really; I'm in the same room as Tony Stark and Professor Hulk and still considered one of the smartest here? Wow, you guys, I'm honored—" Scott gushed.
Tony slammed a hand to his chest. "Cut the humility, Lang. Underscores the indestructible confident front we're putting up."
"Oh, right. Gotcha." Scott straightened, lost the smile, and pulled on his prison fighting face.
"Yeah, that's more like it. Okay." Tony held the one die between two fingers. (It'd been a long time since his Vegas betting days, but did this bring him back.) "Highest roll goes first."
Tony cursed when Nebula rolled highest. Rhodes, surprised, clapped for her and Tony, recovering, said, "Good, good job. You get to roll first."
"But I just rolled," Nebula said, confused.
"Yes, you did, but you were rolling to see who rolled highest to go first—"
Rhodes cut Tony off, a talent few mastered. "Just roll the die and move our pink piece that number."
"Technically, I think the Power Stone is purple, which means there are two pieces here that do not correspond to the Infinity Stones," Thor muttered.
Rocket gave Thor a look as Nebula moved their piece four spaces to the pink space. "All right. We got Entertainment." Nebula looked nervously to Rhodes for a lead as to their left, Scott drew a card and read off the question. "'What long-running Broadway musical introduced the song Try to Remember?'"
Rhodes blinked. "What the hell kind of question is that?"
Tony tapped his fingers against the table.
"What, do you know?" Rhodes rounded on Tony. Nebula, Thor, and Rocket were at a disadvantage here. While they spent some of the last five years on Earth, none of them had an in-depth knowledge of Earth and its histories. They knew some basics, like Geography and Science & Nature, but Entertainment, History, Art & Literature, and Sports & Leisure were long-shots at best. (While it was sweet of Rocket (though he'd deny it) to partner with Thor, they didn't stand a chance of actually winning.)
"Maybe," said Tony.
"I swear, if you've memorized this entire game, I am never talking to you ever again," Rhodes said.
"Promise?" Tony quipped.
"Rhodes?" Scott raised his eyebrows. "Nebula? Anything?"
"What is a Broadway musical?" Nebula stumbled over the foreign words, confused.
"Can we pick a new card?" Rhodes asked.
Scott hissed. "Sorry, no backsies."
"I am so going to quote you later when you want a new card." Rhodes laid back in his chair and threw up his hands. "I don't know. I give up."
Nebula pierced him with her black eyes. "We give up?" Her voice went lower instead of higher in intensity.
"Yeah, unless you know the name of this musical, we give up," Rhodes said. Noting the tension in Nebula's face, he backtracked. "It's not life-or-death. It's fine. We'll get it next time."
Nebula's eyes glowed. "I never want to lose." No one else but Tony knew of the losses Nebula suffered in fights as a child. (Float around in a lost spaceship for twenty-three days with an alien cyborg and you're bound to learn a thing or two about each other.)
"Don't worry. We'll come back and answer correctly every time! Except for right now." Rhodes rolled his eyes and waved his hand for Scott to read aloud the answer, but Natasha beat him to the punch.
"The Fantasticks."
Everyone stared at her. She said coyly, "Girl's gotta have a guilty pleasure."
"Never would've took you for it, but hey, now we know," Tony said.
Scott rolled the die and landed on Science & Nature. Professor Hulk read the question. "'What was the name of the craft Thor Heyerdahl sailed from Morocco to Barbados in July, 1970?'"
"I do not recall being on Earth in nineteen-seventy," Thor spoke up.
"Did you stop listening at the word 'Thor' or something?" Rocket wanted to know.
"Neither do I, but I was here for, what, a month before this happened?" Tony said.
Scott scratched his brain but shook his head. "You know the answer?" he whispered in side-huddle to Tony.
"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?" Tony said.
"Okay, so we'll go with whatever your answer is. Cool," Scott said, turning back to the table.
"The Ra II," Tony whispered to Scott.
"The Ra II," Scott echoed loudly.
And so the game ran. The six pieces skittered around the spokes of the wheel haphazardly, some with strategy, some with no game plan at all. Tony and Scott hopped from 'roll again' space to 'roll again' space, aiming for the color headquarters. Sometimes they went seven, eight turns, rolling and rolling again and making the rest of the Avengers suck in a breath and walk around the conference room, bored. Thor left twice to fetch beer from the fridge; first for him, second for everyone else, as he'd been rudely welcomed when he came back the first time with a twenty-four pack all for himself. Tony and Scott only stopped when Tony (reluctantly) let Scott take the lead, and blow it (very close, though—James II should've been James I of England for, 'Which King James said: "He was a very valiant man that first adventured on eating oysters?')
Natasha and Clint strategized, hitting up categories they knew the answers to as they tackled their strengths first. Rhodes and Nebula struggled mightily; she looked often with hope and acknowledgement of wisdom at Rhodes when it came to a question she was not familiar with (and that was often, given that these cards offered trivia about Earth and its systems as opposed to any of the rest of the galaxy). Steve was good on anything pre-World War II. He was also good on anything post-2011, which, unfortunately for him, was not relevant to this game. Everything else in between in that 60-year gap was still fuzzy and out of his depth. And Professor Hulk, despite having no teammate, showed himself just as good as anyone.
Some were so specific only Tony got them ("Haven't seen that card in play since '86") and then some were just freebies. Steve smiled to himself at this question: "'What country suffered the most combat deaths in World War II?'"
"The Soviet Union," he said proudly. He didn't need any mimed hints from Nat on that one.
Natasha smirked when Tony read off, "'What was the surname of Nicholas II, last czar of Russia?'"
"Romanov," she said, her accent clear and, for once, a little proud.
The only one Thor got the entire game made his face light up. Steve looked almost relieved to have a question Thor had some kind of idea of answering. "'What's heaven to fallen Norse warriors?'" Thor jumped up from his mess of beer bottles and tacos (Scott ordered a ton in for snacking purposes) and yelled, "I know this one! I know it! It's glorious Valhalla!"
"Whoo hoo, Thor got one," Tony forced a cheer. His eyes landed on his and Scott's piece. Five wedges, with only Art & Literature's wedge to collect.
Natasha patted Thor's knee. "We're proud of you," she said around her taco.
"Yeah, really proud," Clint said. He drained the last of his beer and breathed in deeply. He looked a little more at easy. The beer and friends helped, and the hope. Things could be okay again. Things would be even better once they saved his family, but at the moment . . . the world wasn't going to end because they played a game of Trivial Pursuit.
Tony sat back in his chair, his fingers tapped against the neck of his empty beer bottle. His eyes flickered over the faces around him. Some smiles, some ease in their faces. Letting go for one moment of the life they'd barely lived for five years, just to live out a good moment. The beginning of their last mission together—it would be their last mission together, right? Hopefully, once everyone was back, maybe they could pretend they could back to normal. Maybe.
Tony saw faces around him and he saw faces that were missing. Peter Parker between him, Scott, and Bruce, the Fourth Musketeer. All those Guardians—smart-mouthed Quill and the dumb comedy duo of Drax and Mantis, plus this little plant thing Rocket sometimes mentioned. Steve should have Sam and Bucky by his side—Tony wouldn't be able to look Bucky in the eye if he was here but he should still be here—even Stephen Strange. He'd probably never grow to like him, because of how similar they were. Snarky smart jerks who could make the correct play even if no one else would, who didn't turn out as self-centered as everyone thought.
"Who is the one person you wish you could bring back, right now?" Tony said, interrupting the light-hearted merriment and leaving only somber silence in its wake.
When someone finally spoke, it was Clint. "Only one?" he said. "I'd bring them all back." He listed off his fingers, like he didn't want anyone to forget their names. "Laura. Cooper. Lila. And Nate."
"Right. Barton wants his family." Tony met Natasha's eyes. "Nat?"
"Nick Fury," she said, after a second or two of thought. He brought this 'family' together. Without him, she wouldn't have them.
"Wanda. She did all she could. She didn't deserve to go out like that—none of them did," Professor Hulk said. He understood what it was like to struggle with your head and your heart, like you had these two sides in you you needed to reconcile.
Steve shook his head. "Don't make me choose between Sam and Bucky."
"Then I won't," Tony said.
"Is this anyone in general or just the Snapped?" Thor wondered in a low voice, drawing full attention on him. He'd drunk more beer now than any of them had in the past month, yet there was a heartfelt sobriety in his eyes that'd been lacking since his arrival. "For I, like Rogers and Barton, would be hard put to bring back one single person." His voice strengthened, toughened, grew. "If I had to bring back one smote by Thanos, I would have my brother back. He and I would stand in the sun, together, never again to be parted by cruel fate. If he parted us by his mischievous antics, that is another story altogether," he broke a little, chuckling, "but I would never find annoyance with his pranks again." Again, the hard-earned mask repaired. "I would just be glad to have him back."
"Hope Van Dyne is the love of my life," Scott said quietly, "and I miss her."
"Maria Hill," Rhodes said, surprising everyone. "What? She and I were the normal ones in a crazy band of freaks."
"Thanks for that, bud," Tony said.
"Anytime," Rhodes joked.
Nebula glared at something far off no one else could see. "I want my sister back," she rasped through gritted teeth.
"I want Groot. The other morons drove me crazy, but I gotta pick just one? Gotta go with Groot." Rocket winced to himself afterward and said, "Nah, I'd pick all of them."
There were others, of course. Black Panther, Vision, Doctor Strange—
"Who'd you bring back, Stark?" Clint wondered.
Tony couldn't speak. Here he was, the one who brought this up into conversation at a nice casual game of Trivial Pursuit, and his throat tightened. He looked away from the game board. Natasha spoke for him as he noticed the cobwebs collecting dust in the corner of the room. "Peter Parker," she murmured.
Tony swallowed several times to get past the lump in his throat before he turned back to the game. "Okay, whose turn is it? Better be mine, 'cause I'm aiming for Art & Literature." He rolled the die and landed his blue piece on the Brown headquarters.
"We're going to get them all back, Tony," Steve said reassuringly.
Tony didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, I know." Throwing a card to Professor Hulk, "Give me my question."
"'What detective could distinguish 140 forms of tobacco ash?'" Professor Hulk read.
Tony smiled. Easy one. "Sherlock Holmes. C'mon, give me something hard."
Another two rounds around the table and Scott threw the die that should've brought them to the Hub. He overshot, so Scott answered the History question. Another roll, another overshot. Got the Science & Nature. Another roll, another land on Entertainment. "Maybe next time I'll roll the die," Tony said, "just to spice things up."
"C'mon. You've been winning all the wedges for Blue Team; rolling's all I got," Scott said.
Tony sighed but allowed it. "If it's your only thing, be good at your only thing."
That warning seemed to do the trick. Blue Team landed on the Hub. "All right. The rest of us choose the final category for them to answer," Rhodes said, drawing a card. Everyone but Tony and Scott gathered over his shoulder, murmuring over the question. When they went for a new card, Tony said, "No backsies!"
Rhodes sighed, but retained this earlier precedent. Instead of Professor Hulk, Steve had the honor of reading this question: "'What conflict was known as The War to End All Wars?'"
Tony sighed. How little they knew, back then. That this wouldn't be the last one, or even the worst. Steve's fight proved that; the genocide that swept out half of life in all the galaxy proved that.
It was such an easy question. Of course Steve chose it. "World War One," Tony whispered.
Steve tucked the card into the discard pile. His hands emerged in a clap. "Congratulations, Tony," he said. "You won."
Tony's eyes shone, lighted up but hardened. "No, not yet we haven't, Cap," he said. He saw the faces around the table and saw the faces that were missing. Sure, he won, but this was, at the end of the day, just a distraction, just a little game. No rewards, just fun. The game they were about to play had the highest stakes he'd ever bet on. He'd need more than just a little fun with his friends out of this. He needed to win—completely. "But we will. Don't worry." His smile had just a touch of anger and vengeance in it. "I always play to win."
I just wanted to write a fanfic with everyone just being a team again. :3
Thanks for reading! Review?