And Then I Wrote Marvel

Was This Yours? (Avengers x Reader)

"Are those my yoga pants?" Natasha asked you from the breakfast table.

You looked back slyly from where you were waiting for your bagels to pop up from the toaster. "Must have gotten mixed up when we were doing laundry," you answered.

"We all do our own laundry," Wanda pointed out. "Everyone has their own day of the week and time of day assigned to them. Getting things mixed up isn't possible."

"I may have borrowed them," you admitted.

"When? I know it wasn't today," Natasha pushed.

"Oh, I don't know..." you trailed off.

"(Y/N), I know that you know. I can read minds, remember?" Wanda reminded you.

"Merlin, Wanda, calm down," you said defensively.

"Did you just say 'Merlin?'"

"Got a problem with being a Potterhead, Nat?" you challenged.

"Just tell me when you borrowed my pants."

"I borrowed them that time that a certain billionaire decided it would be funny to replace my special laundry detergent with blue-dyed honey," you recalled. "Who even does that, Tony?"

Tony, who was half-asleep at the table, waiting for his turn to make his fancy coffee, snapped to attention. "What did I do, again?"

"Something stupid," you scoffed. Tony shrugged and nodded, accepting that your remark was more than likely true. "Anyway, all of my workout clothes were in that load, so you let me borrow an outfit for the next week. I gave the sports bra and shirt back to you the next day, but I spilled syrup on the pants at breakfast the last morning after a run and told you I would wash them. I forgot to return them after that."

"(Y/N), that was a long time ago," Natasha said.

"Three months, to be exact," Wanda added.

"Okay, okay! After I eat something, I'll run upstairs and change so I can give them back to you," you conceded. "These are very comfortable, by the way. Where'd you get them?"
--
"(Y/N), is that my jacket?" Steve asked. "I've been looking for that for weeks."

"Is it your jacket? I could have sworn it was—"

"It's way too big to be your jacket. Don't finish that sentence."

"Okay, Mister Grumpy-Pants. Maybe it is your jacket, maybe it's not. How are you gonna prove it's yours?" you challenged.

You let out a yelp as Steve grabbed you by the jacket collar, jerking you closer to him. He flipped up the tag and read out loud, "S R. As you may or may not know," he hissed, mocking you, "those are my initials."

"You initial the tags of your clothes?" you giggled. "What a nerd."

"Call me whatever you want, but it keeps my clothes from being stolen."

"Obviously it didn't, because I've had this for a very long time, and you only noticed today."

"You knowingly stole it and kept it for months?" Steve asked. "What's the point in that? You have your own jackets, and if you really like them this oversized, you can just buy them like that yourself."

"Okay, let's not jump to conclusions here. First of all, I didn't steal your jacket. You let me borrow it when the weather decided it doesn't give a darn about what season it is, and I conveniently forgot to return it for a couple of months because it's a really nice jacket," you explained. "Also I should add that you smell very nice."

"Thanks, (Y/N), that's a real concern of mine," Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I will be taking my jacket back now."