(Requested by: @Spectre7 )
"C'mon, (Y/N). Don't be a party-pooper. Come join us!" Clint waved you over from the couch where the Avengers were conversing. (Each with a champagne glass at hand, might you add.)
You were sitting at the bar, a glass of orange juice by your side as you were consumed in a book.
"Yeah, (Y/N)! Come join the party!" Tony chorused.
"Sorry, I don't feel like making drunken bets with you guys."
"Oh, come on. We're more mature than that," Tony scoffed before nudging Clint to receive a ten.
"(Y/N), put down the book and have some fun. You don't have to be a nerd all the time," Clint muttered before taking another sip from his glass.
"Guys, leave her alone. If she doesn't want to be over here, leave her be," Steve chided. (The only other sober person in the room.)
You gave him a thumbs-up from your seat without looking up. "Thanks, Steve."
"Sure thing, (Y/N/N)*." No one noticed the slight blush that dusted Steve's cheeks as he replied.
[*(Y/N/N) = your nickname]
"(Y/N), please come over. The amount of testosterone is killing me," Nat pleaded. The males of the group chuckled.
You sighed before you shut your book angrily. "Fine. But, I'm not doing any truth-or-dare crap. Anything like that, and I'm out."
The guys put their hands up in mock surrender and both Nat and Wanda smiled at you as you sat down.
"So, as we were saying," started Tony as he pulled a slip of paper out of the box. "Who's most likely to win a prank war?"
"Stark."
"Nat."
"Clinton"
"Dude, it's Clint."
"Nat."
"Natasha."
"Okay, most likely to... start a band?"
"Clint."
"Bruce."
"Steve."
"What? Why me?" Steve turned to you.
You shrugged before a grin spread across your face. "You sing in the shower. You have a nice voice."
The team erupted into laughter as Nat broke out into the national anthem, doing a terrible impression of Steve.
Steve blushed before staring down at his full glass. You laughed, but elbowed Nat to knock it off.
"Next. Who's most likely to... flirt with anything that breathes?"
It was a unanimous "Tony".
The conversation curved, and all types of subjects were brought up: from old love to new embarrassing episodes, you were becoming overwhelmed.
"Since there is obvious tension in the room, a bit of the intimate kind, I suggest a game," Tony spoke after downing his seventh glass of champagne.
You started to get up, but Steve grasped your shoulder gently and sat you back down.
"Hold on, (Y/N). Let's see what Stark proposes."
You waited anxiously for Tony to speak, ever the one for dramatic pauses.
"Seven Minutes in Heaven."
The team split into those who were hooting, and those who were groaning.
You, for one, were confused.
