A/N: For the prompt: "No fair, you're taller than me!"

I don't think this is my best work, but I still had fun writing it. I hope you guys have fun reading it!

Game night for the Avengers is a time-honored tradition that must be carried on until the end of time - oh, Natasha's kidding herself; most of them probably wouldn't even go if Tony didn't insist on it.

This particular occasion has devolved; they've all been brought to their lowest points by a Mancala tournament in which Clint kicked everyone's asses. Natasha had been idly sipping a glass of wine while she watched Clint and Thor begin pelting the Mancala stones at each other, which has now turned into a 'grab-random-objects-that-aren't-breakable-and-launch-them-at-other-people' fest. She's perched on the couch arm, occasionally turning her head to avoid getting pelted.

Bruce makes his way through the fray to sit next to her, somehow managing to not get hit in the face with someone's shoe. Natasha kicks out to keep a pillow from smacking into him.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Like they aren't surrounded by a bunch of Avengers who are now, essentially, five-year-olds.

"Earth's Mightiest Heroes," Bruce muses. "What do you think the world would say if they could see us now?"

"They'd probably think it was some kind of fever dream," Natasha replies. "Brought on by a strange gas that happens to be in the atmosphere. You know how it is. Fury would have an aneurysm and then he'd wipe his own memory."

"Seems legit," Bruce says.

'Legit' is not a word that Natasha would ever expect out of Bruce Banner's mouth, so she can't quite cover up her snort of laughter. He rolls his eyes at her, but he also gives her a sheepish smile.

"Not going to join in?" he asks, gesturing to where Clint darting around on top of the bar and Tony is trying to knock him off.

"I'm not sure that I'm interested in getting pummeled by random objects on this particular evening. I have enough of that in our day job."

Even so, she can't quite resist - she picks up another shoe, hefts it, and hurls it at Clint; it collides with his chest, and he flails for a moment before falling off the bar.

The other Avengers turn to stare at her. She smiles sweetly.

"I'm going to bed," Tony announces.

"Same," grumbles Clint. Steve and Thor both wander off (probably to train or work out or something).

Bruce smirks, and murmurs, "Show off."

Natasha leans back against the couch and ruffles his hair. "You love it."

He pouts. "No fair, you're taller than me."

"Right now, yeah," Natasha says. "Consider this revenge for all the times we're both standing. You've got at least an inch on me, if not more." She slides off of the couch arm and into his lap, curling up against him easily (and effectively pinning him down).

His arms come up around her automatically. "Tired?"

"A little."

Bruce chuckles, a small rumble that she can feel with her ear pressed against his chest. "Well, as you can probably tell, I'm not going anywhere."