I Thought You Were Different: Part 3

Gifts

"You're gonna throw up," Bucky snickered with a knowing shake of his head. "Even for you, it's physically impossible to drink that much that fast."

"I can do it," Steve groaned, his face taking on a green pallor at the thought of how much milk was still in the gallon sitting in front of him. "I just need a minute."

"You guys come up with the dumbest bets, and the only thing that we ever prove is that you can find something even dumber for the next one."

"He's the dumbass who agreed to it, (Y/N)," Sam laughed aloud, taking a long drink of his beer while he watched with eager eyes to catch Steve in a loss. There were far too many times that Rogers bested him in what should have been an easy win, but today he felt confident that they had found the bet of all bets.

"You're all idiots," you groaned, turning away to avoid what was looking more and more like an inevitability. "At least aim for the sink, Steve. We have guests." When Anthony walked up to you, his little chubby legs a bit wobbly beneath him as the newest walker of the trio, you hurried to grab him from the floor before he could take the chance of getting in the way. "No, baby, Daddy can't play right now. Let's go play with Grandpa Tony instead, okay?"

"Dada sick?"

"Dada stupid."

"Dada's about to loooooose!" Bucky yelled excitedly, jumping up from his seat with his hands high in the air as he watched his best friend stumble to the sink and finally break. "Oh, man, that's disgusting!"

"That's a hundred bucks each right there, that's what that is," Sam cheered, clapping his hands, "easy money, baby!"

With the gift of terrible timing, Clint entered the kitchen from the other side of the room, carrying Brooklyn in one arm and a large piece of birthday cake in his other hand. The little girl kept managing to reach it despite his best efforts, her face now painted in multi-colored frosting, and one of her hair bows sticking into the dessert.

"Hey, Cap, my best girl here thought you'd like some...woah, no, no, no!" he gasped, turning the little one away from the awful sight. "What did you three do this time?!"

Bucky looked almost proud when he turned to Clint, dropping back into his seat with a satisfied chuckle, "I bet Steve that he couldn't drink a gallon of milk in thirty minutes, and he has lost in spectacular fashion." He tipped his chair back enough to reach the countertop, taking a glass into his hand while the seat wavered slightly. His body tensed at the jolt to his balance, but he compensated and pushed the chair back down flat and scooped up the gallon that Steve had abandoned, filling his glass to hold up in cheer. "To being a winner," he pointed at Sam, "and you, my friend, you're next."

"Oh, that's how it is?" Sam scoffed, quickly turning serious.

"That's how it is."

"Come on, Bug," you whispered to your son, his eyes still on his recovering dad, "let's go see if Papa's still being a sore loser too."

~~~

"I didn't realize that gift giving was a contest to be won," T'Challa smiled, giving you a small wink as you entered the room, "but now that I know that it is, I can confidently say that I've surpassed Tony by a remarkable margin." He stood readily and crossed the room to take Anthony from you, only to find that Grant was now at your feet with his arms raised and ready.

"Hey, buddy, did you see what Uncle T'Challa brought for you?"

"Yeah!" He lifted his tiny hand up, pointing towards the large window with the best view of the compound lawn, where a team of workers were putting together the massive playground that your friend had given them for their first birthday.