"It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight.
Rising up to the challenge of our rival"
Sam stands on the couch, screaming into the microphone. Clint bangs on the plastic drums, hitting all the wrong notes, singing along. Steve stands on the floor, flaunting his guitar.
"And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watchin us all with the EEEYYYYYEEEE"
Sam leaps off the couch and lands on his feet beside Steve, who joins in.
" . . . of the tiger"
Nat meets my gaze from across the room. She rolls her eyes, though she's smiling.
Nick Fury dropped by earlier today, with his arms full of a mysterious cardboard box. He dropped it on the table, glowering at all of us.
"It's time you had some mother fucking bonding time. You need a team again, Steve. You'll thank me later." He left without another word. Steve opened it to find an old Wii game console, several controllers, and a stack of brand new games. He spent most of the afternoon trying to set it up, until Nat convinced him to call Tony. We had it running in two seconds after he showed up.
Clint and I went down to GameStop to get the stuff for Guitar Hero, something he'd be dying to play.
Tony walks in, carrying a couple beers.
"Jesus, you sound like Clint's harem of whining children." He says. Clint shoots him a look.
"Watch it!"
"Noted." Tony holds up his hands, tossing Nat a beer. He holds one out to me. "And one for our beloved Scarlet Witch?" He calls.
I wave him off. "No. I don't drink." I say, and I don't. I rely on my mind too much. God knows what would happen if I became intoxicated.
The boys pick another song, and Clint dissolves into a drum solo that results in a few choice words on his part and a broken drum stick. I suppress a laugh. Sam drops the mic and takes a beer. "I need a break."
"Awwwwww. Did the little birdy lose his voice?" Tony says.
"Shut your fat mouth, Iron Undies." Sam jests.
"Caw, caw!" Clint calls from his drum set.
"Alright, boys. Let me show you how it's done." Nat picks up the microphone. Steve puts on Livin' On A Prayer.
Nat sings without a flaw, and Clint raises his eyebrows. "I didn't know you can sing."
"It's a . . . long lost hobby." She tells him.
They do a few more songs, before Nat flops back onto the couch, out of breath.
"What about another game?" Steve says, pulling the cardboard box closer to him. He paws through it, and holds up a disc. "Mario Kart?"
"Yes!" Sam calls, excitedly. A game controller is passed to me, and I take it. I fail horribly during the first race. The motions are too jerky, the divided screen too hard to see. By the third race, however, I'm slowly climbing to third place. Sam excels at this game, and Nat follows close behind. Clint can't seem to get the hang of it.
"Clint, don't your kids play this game? You should be a pro." I tease him. He waves me off. "Nah, my son talked us into getting a PS4. Now he thinks he's the king of Destiny and Far Cry and all this nonsense. Yeah, may need to rethink that one." He tosses his controller down in frustration, having lost his fourth race. Nat passes out another round of beers.
"Alright, game. Everytime we lap Clint, we drink. Deal?" She says.
"I'm in." Tony says, taking a deep breath. He selects Rainbow Road.
Nat groans. "Seriously? You're gonna be THAT guy?"
I suppress a giggle, readying myself. I lap Clint several times, with ease. I can't shake my third place score, trailing behind Sam and Nat.
Someone slides in another game. Super Smash Bros., I think. I'm Bowser. I find myself beating everyone. I'm quick with the controls. Nobody else seems to be paying attention. Tony and Nat take turns teasing Clint on his lack of skills.
By the end of our final battle, everyone is giggling and red in the face. My body is pleasantly warm, my eyes are heavy. There's not a single drop of alcohol in my body. It's their energy. I'm enveloped in a safety net. And I like it.