I don't own Avengers.
It was about three weeks later and the day of Stark's Halloween party. I was getting dressed when BW burst through my door. I turned while pulling on my shirt and looked at her.
"Yes?" I asked, not bothering to ask her to knock, she never would. She looked me over and snorted, throwing a bag at me.
"Nice try, but you can't go as yourself." I looked at her indignantly.
"Why not?" I dropped the bag on my bed.
"Because I know four people are going as you? And it's lame. Get dressed and pick me up in fifteen minutes." She said, walking out of the room. I sighed and took off my costume and looked at what she gave me. And stared. And stared some more. Finally, after ten minutes of debating whether or not I could skip the party, I put it on, knowing that BW would probably just dress me if I took too long. I went into my bathroom to check myself and groaned. I was wearing a cowboy costume; complete with hat, sheriff's star, and (fake) pistol. What the hell, BW? I walked out of my room, glowering, and knocked sharply on hers. BW exited, dressed in a leotard, cat ears, and tail, and jerked me into her room.
"Just a few adjustments…" She said before descending on me. She unbuttoned most of my shirt, had me remove the star and adjusted the chaps that I was wearing over the skin-tight-and-highly-unrealistic-jeans, and tied a bright red bandana around my neck, removed it, put it back, frowned, and finally decided she didn't like it on me. "Much better. Oh wait, you need a noble steed." She then thrust a stick with a horse head in my hands and smiled broadly. "Perfect, let's go!" I rolled my eyes and tossed the horse-stick-thing on her bed.
"Dress me up as you like; I'm not bringing that with me." I said and she sighed.
"Fine, come on. But you're not allowed to button that shirt!" she said and I nodded, not really thinking.
I stood, finally, near the doors. I had been slowly migrating towards them for the past hour, while politely pretending to not notice the way everyone's eyes slid down my torso. BW will pay. I nudged the door open slowly and slipped out. As I quickly walked away from the party, I heard a by-now-familiar high-pitched giggle. Oh no, not now… I turned to the sound and found myself in front of a closet. I closed my eyes a moment, took a deep breath and hoped I had just gone momentarily insane. I opened the door and sighed. Hawkeye sat there, surrounded by brightly colored wrappers, giggling to himself.
I forgot how in-friggen-sane I was when I wrote these. Wow. Well, Hawkeye on a sugar-high, what could go wrong?