The elevator is moving far too slowly for Clint’s sanity. He needs some cuddles, he doesn’t really care who from. There is nothing worse than going undercover with one of the worst of the worst, a rich dickhead that treats his significant others like less than him, man or woman. Clint had spent 10 days with him, he kind of wants to shower and scrub off any last reminders that he’d done this job.
But, cuddles...
There’s a lot of cheering going on when the doors open. It’s a mix between trash talk and goading, and generally just a lot of noise. Clint turns down the input on his ears. It must be game night, and Clint’s excited. Any bad vibes he was still carrying from the op are washing away, he still needs cuddles though.
There’s a jumbo jenga tower, a regular size tower, and a miniature tower all around the room. Natasha is trying to pull a tricky piece out from the regular size tower, Tony, at her back is attempting to pull on from the jumbo tower, clearly trying to outdo the piece Nat is pulling. Bruce is trying pull an easier piece from the mini tower —he rarely falls into the trap of competitiveness of the team—. Nat makes a move and perfectly pulls out her piece but —though she’ll deny it— purposefully knocks into Tony and sends him crashing across the jumbo tower, the blocks crashing down around his pouting face.
Natasha throws a new bottle of beer to him and yells at him to chug the whole damn thing. His punishment for losing. Clearly it’s a good night. Steve is laughing at Tony’s pout as he gets up to help rebuild the tower.
Nobody has noticed Clint yet, so he gets an idea in his brain. Which honestly is never a good sign and pretty much the reason they were playing jenga now, instead of waiting for Clint. He hops up into the rafters above his head and carefully maneuvers himself until he can see all three towers. He pulls his bow from his back and pulls out his training arrows, a bit thinner and with blunt tips so that he doesn’t kill anybody. Despite what he mutters in his pre-coffee zombie state, he doesn’t actual hate anybody on the team.
He’s got his arrows at the ready, knocked and the bow string pulled taut, he let’s go and in one fluid motion, the arrow takes out three jenga pieces, one from each tower and sends them careening towards Tony and Steve. The first hits Tony smack-dab in the middle of his forehead, the second hits his balls, (Clint’s is only a little bit sorry. Tony’s face makes it worth it, and hey it was a piece from the mini tower. It couldn’t have hurt that bad.) and the third piece swings just wide enough to slam into Steve’s nose.
Natasha grabs the arrow from where it landed beside her and twirls it in her fingers. Steve is gripping his nose but laughing so hard he falls into Natasha, Tony is still hunched over, but he holds a finger up, “Barton! This is why we don’t let you play this game!” Clint nearly laughs so hard that he falls out of his perch. He doesn’t, but he does wobble enough that he has to jump down before he does face plant.
Clint glides over to Tony before he even notices, wraps his arms around him and drops them both onto the couch. “Aw, Tony... you love it!” Tony squirms in his arms and tries to escape Clint’s hold but he gives up rather quickly, trying to reach whatever he can to pinch Clint. “I love the idea that one day I’ll be able to produce kids. The longer I keep you around the less chance I have.”
Clint just squeezes him tighter and waggles his eyebrows, “do you need me to kiss it better?” This time, Tony manages to squirm enough to turn and punch Clint in the arm. “That’s it! I’m banning the playing of jenga. In any form!”
“Aw, Tony, no...”