Darcy/Bruce 2
It had been a good idea in theory. In theory. Darcy had been all, group bonding, physical exercise, relatively harmless… It wouldn’t be like that time she tried to organize flag football, right?
Except… She’d forgotten how competitive they all were. Every single fucking one of them. She was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, looking around the room. Only Thor and Bruce looked relatively unharmed, and Bruce only because he’d volunteered to sit out. The rest of them…
Steve’s ribs were cracked. Nat’s nose was broken and her shoulder had been dislocated. Clint had sprained an ankle and picked up another concussion. Tony had needed stitches in his thigh for some reason, and was looking forward to dental surgery. Sam was sporting the mother of all black eyes and had fractured his wrist.
They were all avoiding meeting her eyes. “What do you have to say for yourselves?” she demanded in her very best superhero-scolding tone. Pepper would be proud. Well, after maybe Pepper killed her. But that was a worry for future Darcy.
“He started it.” Tony pointed across the room to Steve, who raised his eyebrows and pointed to himself.
“I started it?” Steve looked like he was considering getting out of his chair and going across the room.
“Hey!” Darcy yelled, and they both settled back in their chairs.
“You know, this is kinda your fault,” Tony said after another second as he folded his arms in front of him.
“My fault?” Darcy’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Because I was the one who decided to turn dodgeballs into lethal weapons? It’s fucking dodgeball, the worst that happens is bruised egos and hurt feelings.” Shaking her head, she let out a long sigh. “None of you are getting laid for a while.” Her eyes scanned the room until they came to rest on Bruce. “Well, you, maybe.”
She turned and swept out of the room, leaving them to wallow in their injuries.