This was from a comment I saw on tumblr.
Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers.
. . .
Dodge ball was the team's favorite sport. This was an amazing feat, as four of them had never played before and the other two viewed it as school sanctioned cruelty. None of them were really sure who originally suggested the idea of using it as training. Or so everyone claimed. Three of them knew perfectly well who it was but none of them were that person and they just enjoyed arguing about it.
So dodge ball became training time. Jarvis created a fair and balanced score sheet, tailored to each Avenger. There was a different point system depending on who threw the ball, who they hit, and what part of the body the ball connected with. Jarvis also kept track of the total scores and who had the highest score in one game.
During one particular game Clint threw a ball at Thor's shoulder. Thor moved out of the way at the last second to nail Bruce on his right femur. This caused the ball to sail through the air into the spot Natasha moved to after simultaneously getting Tony's left foot and avoiding Steven's shot to her right thumb. It nailed her right in the face.
Complete silence and stillness descended on the gym as the boys stared at Natasha in shocked horror. When eyes turned to look at Clint he was no longer there. A glance upwards revealed he had somehow teleported into the rafters.
Natasha walked out of the room.
"Game over." Jarvis called out.
Clint's moan of despair reached the remaining four's ears.
"I'm sure he didn't mean that you're dead, Clint," Bruce spoke up.
Jarvis was ominously silent.
"She's gone now. You can come down," Steve encouraged.
"No."
"Clint, I am sure Natasha will not harm you for an incident during training," Thor said.
Tony opened his mouth. Bruce slapped his hand on Tony's face. " Not helping," he hissed.
The four spent the next hour convincing Clint to come down.
. . .
Pepper ignored the sound of her office door opening but looked up at the smell of coffee and baked goods. "Nat, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I need to kill some time while I psychologically torment Clint."
"Do you have time for lunch? You can tell me about it over pasta."
"That sounds lovely."