Pikers

Sitting on a couch in the Assembly Room, Phil Coulson and Tony Stark were arguing about who had been presumed dead the longest. Really, only Tony was arguing. Despite the proverb, it only takes one to start an argument if that one is Tony Stark. Phil just seemed amused, but he was willing to egg Tony on for the entertainment value for the rest of the Avengers.

Bruce Banner was reading a book in a nearby chair, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that had nothing to do with the life story of an obscure physicist.

Natasha Romanoff wasn't even pretending to read her book any longer and Clint Barton was watching the disagreement avidly, exaggerating the back and forth movement of his head as if he was watching a tennis match.

Steve Rogers was fixing a stack of sandwiches in the nearby kitchen, well within his serum-enhanced earshot.

"I was presumed dead for three months in the desert," Tony almost bragged.

"I was presumed dead for nearly a year," Phil pointed out. "Some people still think I'm dead."

"Yes, but Fury knew you were alive. Someone who knew you knew that you were alive right away, even though he hid it from everyone else, so it doesn't count. You were only presumed dead for eight minutes," Tony argued. "Three months!"

"Eleven months," Phil countered.

"Pikers!" Steve Rogers smirked at them both when he wandered past carrying his sandwiches to the coffee table.

Natasha smothered an unladylike snort and Clint laughed out loud.

"Wait, wait, who gave Rip Van Winkle permission to play?" Tony said in aggrieved tones. "And what's a 'piker' any way?"

"Someone who bets small in a high stakes poker game," Bruce said without looking up from his book. He knew these things. He read a lot.

"In other words," Natasha said kindly. "Someone who can't back up his big talk. A poseur."

"A poser," Clint corrected, using more recent slang. "Or in other other words, a piker is a loser," he taunted Tony.

Steve leaned his elbows on the back of the couch and grinned at his friends. "Deal me in, boys," he drawled like a movie cowboy. "Read 'em and weep. Sixty-five years, six months and fourteen days."

"I fold," Phil said promptly, fighting a smile.

Everyone looked at Tony. He sighed, rested his chin on his fists and pouted. "Fold."


A/N:Just a little something this time. But I posted an Avengers Christmas Song, too.