"So what's the plan?" Sam asks, folding his hands behind his head and kicking up his feet as he lounges in the common room of their hotel.

Wanda drops onto the sofa beside him with a little bounce, blinking expectantly up at Steve as Scott mutes whatever laugh-track-comedy he has pulled up on the television and glances back as well.

"Of where we're going next?" Steve asks, lowering himself down on Sam's other side as Natasha pads into the common room with wet hair, having ditched her evening gown for a pair of fleece pants and a tank top with an over-sized unzipped sweatshirt.

"Shower's open," she murmurs to Wanda, leaning over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, Steve, what scenic stop is next on our little road trip?" Clint grins from the kitchen area, tossing a bag of popcorn into the microwave and setting the timer before joining the group.

"I'm open to suggestions," the super soldier shrugs, rearranging the couch cushions so that there's more room as Bucky peeks his head in from one of the attaching rooms and comes to join them.

"I hear that Guam's nice this time of year," Sam shrugs, trying to hide a smile.

"Or Thailand," Scott adds.

"I wouldn't mind New Zealand, personally," Natasha adds.

"Or even seeing more of the United States," Wanda suggests.

"Let's just skip Leipzig for a while," Clint mutters, and Natasha flashes him a troublemaking grin as he grimaces. "Had my fair share of fun there already."

"As long as we don't get split up, I'm good with just about anything," Scott smiles, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and leaning back with his hands folded behind his head in a mimicry of Sam.

"So...Where?" Bucky asks, blinking around at the group.

"It doesn't matter. As long as we're going somewhere together," Steve nods.

"I've got a quarter," Wanda says suddenly, her tone happily surprised as she turns to Clint with a grin. "Heads Carolina, tails California?"

The archer tilts his head in confusion for a second before he breaks out in a huge grin, says "Ha! That's my girl," and throws an arm around her shoulders while Wanda beams.

Scott looks as confused as Sam feels.

Natasha leans in and mutters "song reference," for the benefit of the rest of the team, but she is smiling too. "I think I have an idea on where we can go, however."

Clint perks up a bit, and the two share a look before glancing toward Wanda, who already has a pleading smile on her face.

"Yeah," Clint mutters. "Yeah, that could work. Hey Steve, I think we got something."


The car they have is a big red Suburban.

It's obviously seen its share of back roads, if the caked mud in the wheel wells is any indication, and Sam can't quite help his grin. Wherever they're going promises to be fun.

"Shotgun!" Scott calls, and Sam scoffs.

"Aw, hell no, I called shotgun back at the rental place."

"Doesn't count unless the car's in sight!" Scott calls over a shoulder, already moving for the vehicle at a fast walk.

"First to the door gets it!" Sam counters, breaking into a run.

"Neither of you is getting shotgun," Clint announces overtop of them with a grin, halting the pair in their tracks. Sam turns in sync with Scott to give the archer a questioning look.

The man's smile grows as he spins the key ring on a finger.

"Wanda gets shotgun 'cause she's the only one who will sing along to the radio with me. You two are in back with the rest of the rabble."

"Thanks, Clint," Natasha mutters as he unlocks their ride. "Love you too."

They pack their gear in the back before stuffing themselves into the car. Clint takes driver's seat, Wanda riding shotgun, and Steve takes the seat behind Wanda as Sam hops up behind Clint. Scott beats Bucky to the window seat behind Steve, leaving the super soldier stuck riding bitch when Natasha slips in behind Sam with a dangerous grin that just dares Bucky to ask her to take middle.

Bucky simply responds to this by stuffing himself in between them and taking up as much room as physically possible.

Natasha responds by trying to do the same, and this winds up with Scott squished into the far corner of the car as the two assassins check thigh strength against each other.

Steve tosses a pack of Chex mix over his shoulder at each of them, muttering something that sounds to Sam like "behave, kids" before he returns his attention to the front to make sure Clint and Wanda have their route all set.

Even more surprising is the fact that all three in the back seem satisfied with that, and dig into their snacks without further complaint.

Once everyone is mostly settled, Clint pulls them out of the parking lot and onto the highway, Wanda fiddling with his phone GPS in the passenger seat.

"Calculated time is about twenty six hours," she reports.

"I'm hearing 'overnight pit stop in Vegas'," Clint says with a grin, glancing back over a shoulder at Steve.

The blond man flounders a little, starting to protest, but the twin whines of "come on, Cap, pleeeeeeease" from Natasha and Scott cut him off. With a sigh, he shakes his head in submission.

"All right, Clint. Overnight stop in Vegas."

The archer lets out a whoop as Wanda adds the stop to their route, and his comment of "gonna teach my girl how to gamble!" earns him a glare from the captain that he very pointedly ignores.

"There will be no using super-powers to cheat at card games in Vegas," Steve scolds preemptively, and Sam snickers at the disappointed looks on all three assassins' faces.

"It will add three and a half hours to our trip," Wanda warns, but Clint shrugs.

"Worth it."

Clint checks over a shoulder before switching lanes, and then reaches for the stereo dial as Wanda positions his phone in the console so that it can keep giving him directions.

The man searches channels for a moment, his face a mask of thoughtful consideration, before landing on a drawled song that makes him and Wanda both smile in recognition. Sam feels his eyebrow climb toward his hairline as he starts to pick up the lyrics, and he's not the only one to recognize it.

"Wait, country music?" Scott groans.

"Dude, kill me now," Sam agrees, making a face if only to coax a reaction from Clint.

The archer snaps his fingers from the front, pointing back over his shoulder at them.

"No comments from the peanut gallery. My truck, my music."

"Whatever you say, farm boy," Natasha mutters from behind him, and Sam can't help a smirk as Clint's deadpan glare meets their eyes in the rearview.

More surprising than the music choice, Sam thinks as he turns his attention to the passenger seat, is the fact that Wanda is happily singing along to the refrain, her voice a harmonic counter to the man on the radio.

"And how is it that you know this song, kid?" Sam asks, leaning in a little. "I didn't think they had American Country out in Sokovia."

"They don't. Not really. Clint introduced me when he brought me back to the States after Ultron."

Sam shoots Steve a questioning look, and the blond man gives him a shrug in reply.

"Clint took her home with him, to help her settle in a bit," Steve explains quietly, his pointed glance and little nod in Wanda's direction saying what his words don't: to help stabilize her after her twin's death.

Sam nods, and leans back in his seat as the current song fades into the opening bar of another.

Wanda switches tunes as seamlessly as the radio does, and Sam tries to hide his smile.

"Do you know all of these songs?" Steve asks, and Wanda nods without missing a beat.

"Like I said before, you've ruined her," Natasha accuses Clint.

"I've caught you humming this one before, Tasha," he counters, and she gives him a sour look but doesn't deny it.

"Wait...That's the indoctrination, isn't it? If you've got a sketchy background, you're put through two weeks of Clint's bad taste in music before you're allowed to join the Avengers?" Scott asks Steve.

"Well then, Mr. World-Renown-Thief," Clint says with a wicked grin before the Captain can reply, "It looks like you have thirteen more days of my 'bad taste in music' to go."

"Wait-... fuck..."

"Language," Steve mutters.

Scott turns bright red and occupies himself with looking out the window as Wanda giggles from the front.

An hour later, Wanda has yet to hear a song that she doesn't know, Clint has proven himself to be tone-deaf when he puts too much energy into his singing, Natasha and Bucky have only gotten into one squabble behind him (something about who got the last bag of chips) and Clint is guiding the car into a little rest area with a gorgeous view of the mountains.

Sam tugs his baseball hat on over his sunglasses, the others donning similar disguises before stepping out of the car to use the restroom and stretch and - in Wanda's case - take pictures of the scenery.

He hits up a vending machine on the way back to the car, getting a few packs of chewing gum because whoever was packing snacks apparently did forget a few things, and he is almost halfway back to the others when he gets ten years scared off his life.

"Hey."

Sam about chokes on his heart as he feels a hand land heavily on his shoulder, every muscle in his body going rigid with his flight-or-fight instinct as they're flooded with adrenaline.

When he turns around he finds himself looking at a gruff, elderly white man with thin, grey hair and bushy eyebrows.

"C-can I help you?" Sam manages to choke out, praying he hasn't been recognized. The man offers a twitch of the lips that might be a smile.

"Saw your patch," he says with a respectful nod to Sam's jacket. "What branch of the air force?"

"Fifty-eighth. Pararescue," Sam manages, most of his brain occupied with keeping his legs from turning to jelly beneath him as the adrenaline leaves him like an upended bucket.

"Twenty-sixth. Special tactics," the man replies, giving him a little half-salute. "The wife is navy JAG."

Sam manages a real smile this time.

"Great to hear that, man. Always good to meet a fellow veteran."

"Where you all headed?"

"Vegas, last my friends mentioned."

"Great place. Don't play the spinner, though. I swear it's rigged."

"No kidding."

Out of the corner of his eye Sam can see the others loading back into the Suburban, so he takes a few tentative steps in that direction.

"I've got to head out, man. Good talking with you, though!"

"Pleasure talking to you. Have a safe trip," the man nods, shooting Sam a warm smile.

"You too. Tell the wife I said hi."

"Will do."

Sam jogs back to the car, in time to catch Steve's concerned look.

"Trouble?"

"Recognized my patch," Sam shrugs, climbing back into his seat and groping blindly over his shoulder for the seatbelt. "He's air force, too. About gave me a heart attack, though."

The buckle eludes him, and he continues to feel around for it in larger and larger arcs as Clint settles his snacks in the console cup holders and turns over the engine. Sam wonders briefly if Natasha has moved his seatbelt.

After another second of searching fruitlessly, he tosses a glance back over his shoulder to find the belt extended off to somewhere he can't see in the back seat.

"Natasha," he snaps, because now he's sure that the assassin is responsible, and although she doesn't respond, the fact that the seatbelt is pressed into his hand a second later is proof enough of her guilt.

Sam resolves himself to paying her back later by tossing caramel corn at her once she dozes off.

The next half hour is spent in relative silence, but Sam can tell that the three in the back are getting antsy. Natasha and Bucky keep getting into little squabbles over nothing, muttering sourly at one another in Russian and making Wanda blush with whatever they're saying until Steve pointedly clears his throat and shoves more snacks into the back seat as a peace offering. Scott is all but bouncing up and down in his seat, shifting positions every other second, clearly not one for being cooped up.

After another half hour of that, Clint makes a tactical radio switch from country to some classical station that he manages to dig out of the frequencies, and within the next ten minutes everyone in the back seat is asleep.

Steve smacks Sam's hand lightly when he tries to toss caramel corn at Natasha, however, so his petty revenge is put on hold.

Sam polishes off a snack cake, watches the scenery go by for about half an hour, and then dozes off against the window with his arms tucked under his head, the soft strains of Mozart lulling him off to sleep.

When he is next woken by the stop of the car and the sounds of people around him waking up, the sun is starting to go down, and they are pulling into the lot for an enormous, fancy hotel that is done up in the opulent fashion exclusive to pretty much one place in the US...

Vegas.


It takes them all of fifteen minutes to check into a room, bring their luggage upstairs, and get settled. By now it's practically routine, and Sam's had it down to a science since the third re-location. He's given the others instructions for fast pack-up if need be, a method with the least chance of items left behind.

It broke down fairly simply, based on the length of the stay.

Extended? All suitcases could be unpacked into drawers. Double check everything before leaving.

Couple days to a week? Only essentials left the suitcases. Single full sweep of the location before leaving.

Overnight? Nothing leaves the bags for longer than it takes to change clothes or take a shower.

They could be on the road again in five minutes or less the following morning.

Since going on the run, such military efficiency has become standard for all of them, and they'd only really had one issue with things being lost, but it was just Wanda's earring, and they'd found it caught in her hair after a few minutes of searching. Other than that, it was seamless.

Sam folds out the suitcase racks from the little coat closet, lining them up along the wall as Natasha opens the connecting door to the neighboring suite where she, Wanda, and Clint are staying.

"Hundred dollar limit," Steve is saying sternly. "No cheating with super powers. And keep your cell phones on your person with the volume on loud in case something comes up."

"Yes, Sir," Scott grins, throwing a salute that is far more "boy scout" than "military," and Steve hides a smile by moving to put his suitcase on the rack beside Sam's.

"So how are we going to swing this?" Bucky asks, pointedly rotating the shoulder of his missing arm. "There's a lot more people here than anywhere else we've stayed, and some of us are pretty recognizable out of a mask."

Natasha holds up a little bag before Steve can reply, a smile playing at her lips.

"Hair dye and contouring."

"Hair dye and what?" Scott asks, halfway through folding out the couch-bed.

Natasha shoots him a sweet smile, pulling a brush and a little jar of powdered concealer out of her bag.

"You're all getting makeovers."

Sam can't hold back a laugh at the horrified look on the man's face, and calls first dibs on the shower while the other guys are still in shock.

The hot water is like heaven on his skin, but he keeps it brief - the other guys are all in line behind him, after all. When he steps out into the room again, Natasha has already taken over the vanity, little bottles and cases opened all over the place as she prepares to get to work.

Two hours later, they're all ready to hit the strip.

It turns out that Natasha is a master makeover artist when she puts her mind to it.

Scott gets the computer geek look, with a pair of thick-framed glasses, a button-down shirt he'd brought from Hawaii, and a pair of khaki pants that are hitched up a little too high to be natural. With a few strategic acne marks painted on his face, he looks more like he escaped from some college technical support office than a supermax ocean prison.

Wanda winds up with a rather heavy punk-rock look, her hair up in two ponytails beneath a pageboy hat and the curling tips dyed bright red. Her high cheek bones have been disguised by some clever trick Natasha does with the cover-up, and her eyes are lined in such a way that they look more almond-shaped than round. A little magnetic nose-ring does wonders to make her look like another person entirely, as does the scrollwork floral "tattoo" that Steve inks onto her exposed shoulder in sharpie as he waits his turn.

Clint is looking about twenty years older with a hint of grey shot through his hair and liquid concealer caked on his face in such a way that he appears to have wrinkles. With a fake scar painted on his cheek, cowboy boots, and a matching hat, he looks like he just stepped out of a wild west movie.

Natasha ages herself up as well, dulling her hair down to a silky auburn and shooting it through with grey. She adds wrinkles as well, mostly concentrated around her eyes and mouth, and she layers her clothes in such a way that her hourglass figure is more of a pear by the time she's done.

Bucky gets the same old-southwestern look as Clint, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail and shot through with grey, and Natasha layers makeup on his five-o-clock shadow in such a way that it looks like a much fuller scruff. She separates out a strand of hair up by his bangs, and winds red and brown and turquoise thread down the length of it, attaching a little feather charm to the bottom that Wanda salvages off of one of her bracelets. He is given an eye patch to wear on the same side as his missing arm, and a wool poncho to drape and cover that side.

Steve, to everyone's amusement, gets the "dad" look. Natasha re-shapes his face with the makeup the same way she did to Wanda, and by the time she finishes dying his hair dark, he looks like he could be the girl's father. He is dressed in a pastel-colored polo shirt, a sweater tied around his shoulders, and a hint of grey dusted in his hair. When he stands beside Wanda, he is every inch the father that got talked into a Vegas trip for his daughter's birthday.

Sam also undergoes a complete transformation. Natasha somehow manages to coax his short-cut hair into something resembling the start of an afro, and disguises the overpowering smell of hairspray with a tactical application of cheap cologne. He winds up getting the businessman look, with a sharp-looking dress shirt, dark slacks, and a tie. He is also aged down a good ten years with the addition of round-frame glasses and a clean shave.

By the time she's done, they look nothing like the Avengers.

The process takes a while, and they're all bubbling with excitement, so as Natasha finishes up with little touches on one or another of them, the others mill around, getting into trouble.

Wanda keeps calling Steve "Daddy," to everyone's amusement, making the Captain's face slowly turn red, one shade darker at a time. Clint and Bucky keep re-doing a Wild-West standoff over in the corner, every "draw" winding up with Clint nailing Bucky in the forehead with the rolled pair of socks they're using as ammo and Bucky's shot going wide as he's bludgeoned...

At least until his throw hits Natasha in the back of the head, and makes her draw a thick streak of eyeliner across the center of Steve's face, and she grabs Clint and Bucky by the ears and drags them into "time out" on the sofa, leaving Sam to guard them.

Clint takes the opportunity to relieve Cap of his "daughter's" antics, and calls Wanda over so he can walk her through how to play poker.

Scott manages to hotwire something with the television, and gets a classic movies channel to play on it (which Steve is only convinced to turn a blind eye to because Rocky is on and he can check it off his lengthy to-do list).

Sam takes the opportunity to raid the snack stash and finish off the last of the Hostess before Bucky can, snapping "sit your ass back down" whenever either of the two men he's been left to guard try to get up from the sofa.

Natasha finishes cleaning the smudge from Steve's face, lines them all up against the wall for one final check, and then clears them to go have fun.

Steve gets in one final command to pair up and stick with their partner before Natasha opens the hotel door, and then they're all off into the casino.


Bucky and Scott are the first to split off together, surprisingly, the pair of them heading for the slots machine with fifty dollars worth of quarters that Scott had traded for at the front desk.

Clint and Natasha break off from the rest of them shortly after that, heading for the roulette wheel, and because there are seven of them, Sam and Steve wind up staying with Wanda as she settles herself at the nearest card table.

Turns out, Wanda is terrifyingly good at poker.

She's got a dead-eyed, expressionless look that she could have only learned from her time with HYDRA, and she can call people without visible tells on every lie they try to slip past her.

On her fifth take-all game, however, when she lets the stakes build to something astronomical to get the other players' hopes up, and then takes it all away with a royal flush that has the staff eyeing her in contemplation, Steve pulls her aside.

Sam edges closer to listen in, telling himself that he's simply positioning himself to protect Wanda in case any of the fuming players try anything to get her back for emptying their wallets.

Like she couldn't totally handle them herself.

"I thought we agreed not to use super powers to win card games," Sam hears Steve scold her gently.

"I can't help it, they're thinking so loud..." Wanda pleads. "The man beside me was practically screaming 'please don't notice that I'm lying' the whole last match..."

Steve gives her an admonishing look, and Wanda lets out a little sigh in defeat.

"Fine, I'll throw the next match so they get their chips back..."

"Good girl."

Wanda looks put out for exactly three seconds, but then a wicked little smile curls her lips.

"I never said I would keep it a secret, though."

"Wait...what?" Steve asks, but Wanda is already gone, flouncing back to the table as cheerfully as if she hadn't just been scolded.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Wanda purrs in a voice that is all Natasha. "Would you like to win your bets back?"

There's a few grumbles, and a few dirty looks, but one by one the remaining people all throw in, eyeing her warily. Wanda picks her cards up once they've been dealt, and Sam about chokes on a laugh when Wanda promptly shows her hand to the table, announcing:

"I have a ten and two fives. Try to beat me."

Sam can hear Steve's hand connecting with his forehead from just behind him, and that is enough to turn his choked-back humor into a snigger that he has to physically clap his hand over his mouth to repress.

"Wonder who she learned that trick from?" he asks Steve once he can compose his emotions into something passably calm.

"Clint," Steve mutters in reply, shaking his head. "That is entirely Clint."

"And I bet he'd be damn proud of her too."

"Definitely."

Sam hovers around the poker table for a while longer, getting a rather sick glee out of watching the other player's faces slowly crumble from insulted frustration into horrified despair as they struggle to take back their winnings, before moving off to the right a little to put a quarter into one of the slot machines.

Most of them have been upgraded from the traditional mechanical slot machines, the fronts now showing a digital display and flashing lights instead of spinning wheels.

The handle, however, is just about the same, and Sam allows himself a smile as he snaps it down and watches the numbers spin.

The first game rewards him with a dollar, and Sam grins as he plucks the crisp bill from the machine's dispenser.

"Hey Cap, look, I'm rich," he grins, turning to show the bill to Steve who currently has his face buried in his palm as Wanda somehow manages to get dealt two aces and winds up with another stack of poker chips. Steve spares him a glance from the corner of his eye, lets out a huff, and shakes his head in exasperation.

"You're hilarious, Sam."

"Damn right. I'm gonna take my winnings and buy myself a whole burger off the dollar menu of the next McDonalds we see."

The Captain glances back at Wanda, shaking his head a little in exasperation as she once again shows her cards to the table and challenges them to beat her, the pile of poker chips at her elbow looking a little smaller than before.

"She may be at this a while," Steve sighs. "You want to go find some other games to play while I keep an eye on her?"

But Sam shakes his head.

"Never been much for gambling," he shrugs. "My mama taught me to stay away from stuff like that - didn't want me wasting my money on a game of chance, or getting addicted. I figure once was worth a try, but I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead."

"Your mother sounds like a very smart woman."

"Taught me everything I know, and got me where I am today. Bless her heart for putting up with me for so long."

"She raised a damn good son," Steve says with a grin, and Sam can't help his smile at that.

That smile only grows as Wanda announces that she's got another ace from the card table behind Steve and everyone immediately throws the round.

As the dealer shuffles the cards, Sam turns his attention to the super soldier.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard much about your past."

Steve shrugs, tilting his head a little as he lifts his shoulder.

"Not much to tell. My mother was an Irish immigrant. My father died when I was young. We lived through most of the great depression. I died in the second World War fighting HYDRA, and woke up to the Invasion of New York."

"That's a hell of a lot of story for there not being much to tell," Sam scoffs.

"My whole life story is in a museum," Steve shrugs. "Hell, they have stuff there that even I forgot about. I'd rather hear how you got into pararescue of all things."

Sam shrugs this time, looking around at the bright, flashing lights and wild displays.

"Not much to tell. Enlisted in the air force out of college. Passed all my tests with flying colors, so they boosted me to an elite squad. That's where I met Riley. A year later the two of us volunteered for the experimental Falcon suits, and we took to them like a tick to a hound. Pair of damn birds, we were."

Sam gives a little shrug, his throat feeling a bit tight.

"And you already know the rest."

The pair of them glance back as one of the players at the card table lets out a whoop and scrambles to claim their winnings back from Wanda, the other players still eyeing the dwindling pile of chips, and Steve shakes his head in exasperation before turning his attention to Sam once more.

"You fly many missions?"

"Not at first. Damn generals wanted us as a showpiece at their demos. Never mind that we were their top guys on the force and had some of the best aerial infiltration tech that the military owned. They just wanted us to fly circles above representatives, putting on a song and dance for funding. Drove us mad."

"I know that feeling," Steve says with a lopsided grin, and Sam chuckles.

"Yeah, I'll bet you did. How long did they keep you out of combat?"

"Years," Steve mutters, something shifting in his expression that almost resembles guilt before he schools it back into an easy grin. "Then I finally got the wake up call to get my ass out in the field, and I never went back."

"Shame, I rather like those old Captain America movies," Sam grins.

"What, you think I should go back to acting?" Steve laughs. "But Romanoff says I'm a terrible actor."

"That's just cause she was raised to detect lies," Sam grins, turning to nod at Wanda a moment later. "Speaking of...She done kicking everyone's ass at cards?"

Steve drags his gaze back to the girl as Wanda surrenders another little pile of chips to one of the few remaining players, the woman eagerly grabbing up the tokens and stuffing them in her handbag.

"Almost, I'd guess."

"You want me to remind you to kick Clint's ass later?"

"Definitely. And never let me bet against her. Ever."

"Rodger that, Captain," Sam smirks.

"Come on," Steve sighs after another moment of watching. "Let's go fetch her."

Sam follows on Steve's heels as he weaves his way back to the poker table, now deserted save for Wanda and one of her opponents.

"How did I possibly lose? You literally showed me your cards!" the other person - a young man - is muttering to himself as they walk up, his voice slurred as he slouches face-down across the now-empty poker table, Wanda patting his back comfortingly.

"You're playing drunk, you silly thing," Wanda scolds, pushing half of her pile of chips toward him. "Take your bets back. Get yourself home safely. And stop chewing your lip when you're lying, it gives it away."

The young man mutters a pathetic, muffled curse into the table, and Wanda bites her own lip to keep from smiling.

Steve and Sam move over to the girl as Wanda spins around on her little seat to face them with a grin, twirling a poker chip between her fingers.

"Some of the people left, can I keep the rest?"

Steve nods grudgingly and Wanda beams up at him for a second before gathering her remaining tokens together in a pile.

"Come on, kid," Steve sighs, offering Wanda his arm as she sweeps the remaining poker chips into her hat. "Let's go find the others."

The little witch beams up at the pair of them, hooking her arm through Steve's to let him act as guide dog while she looks around in wonder, and Sam steps up on her other side with a smirk.

"You're a menace, you know that?" he tells her, and Wanda just flashes him a smile.

It isn't very long after that they come across Clint and Natasha, the two SHIELD assassins bickering like siblings as they make their way unsteadily toward them with their arms slung around each other's shoulders.

"What have you two been up to?" Steve asks, and the two share a smile.

"Darts," they reply in synch, and Sam does his damn best not to smile as Steve buries his face in his palm once more.

"I thought I told all of you before we came-"

"We were only betting against each other," Natasha reassures him, a wicked smile curling her lips as she adds: "I won."

"Bull shit," Clint protests. "Mine should have counted as bullseye, even if it wasn't touching the board. Not my fault your dart was in the way."

"Yours only cut it partially in half before it got stuck," the assassin shrugs. " Doesn't count unless it's touching the board. If you're gonna show off, be prepared to face the consequences. You should have thrown it harder."

"You had the advantage of not being drunk."

"I had the same number of drinks as you did," Natasha replies with a raised eyebrow, to which Clint sticks out his tongue.

"Your tolerance is bullshit too. I demand a refund."

"Anyone see Scott and Bucky?" Steve asks before Natasha can reply.

"I think they're hacking the slots machine," Wanda muses, her head tipped slightly as she stares off into the crowd, and Steve follows her gaze.

"Oh for the love of-"

Sam feels a smirk spreading across his face as he catches sight of the two leaning over the machine, poking and prodding and fiddling as they try to glitch it into giving them matching numbers.

He follows gleefully after Cap, the petty part of him admittedly rather excited to see Bucky about to get into trouble, and Wanda flounces along at his side, her poker chips clacking around in her hat.

Natasha and Clint trail along behind them, still arguing points and rule technicalities.

Scott and Bucky look up sharply when Steve clears his throat, jumping to attention as soon as they see who it is. Before Steve can speak, however, the machine behind them lets out a victory jingle and spits out a twenty.

The two men blink at it for a second in shock before both shouting "mine!" and darting to grab it.

Steve lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as the two squabble over what to spend it on.

"If we're all quite finished, we should probably head back to the room. We've still got fourteen hours in a car tomorrow, and Wanda needs to do something with those chips."

"I'll swing Wanda by the front desk," Clint offers, catching an arm around the girl's shoulders and giving her a proud squeeze. "Get all her winnings traded in."

"I'll have you know that you've created a monster," Steve informs the archer as Wanda beams.

"This isn't even half of what I won," she relays to Clint, glowing with pride, and the man's eyebrows climb his forehead.

"The hell did you do with the rest of it?" he asks, leading her off. Sam only manages to catch part of Wanda's reply that "Steve made me give it back" before the two are swallowed by the crowd.

The Captain shakes his head after the archer and witch in exasperation, then turns to lead the way back to the hotel.

They all definitely look like an odd group as they head back up to their room, however between Natasha's skill with disguises and the general drunken state of the hotel guests, nobody seems to notice or care.

They all wind up playing rock paper scissors to determine who gets dibs on the bathroom first (Natasha beating them all to the door while they're still deciding, the cheater) and Sam manages to place second.

He finishes his shower just as Clint and Wanda get back, the girl thumbing through a stack of bills in awe because "I've never had this much money in my life!" as Clint drops subtle hints about what he wants for Christmas and just how much he still owes Natasha over the stupid darts game that he totally should have won.

Sam only sticks around for long enough to remind everyone to be packed and ready to go before they go to sleep, and then he retreats to his room and all but belly flops into the bed.

He is out the minute his head hits the pillow.


Author's Note: Part 2 still in the works, Sam's chapter just got ridiculously long so I decided to split it into two segments. I may go back and combine them later, but a lot of people want updates for this, and my inner attention whore wants some fan love, so here you all are. Hope you enjoyed!