hyperbookslover asked for something fluffy from this particular series, and I remembered that Tourmaline had asked for "the drunken race with Thor that is not to be spoken of." So I decided to combine the two into one prompt because it's pretty fluffy (more humorous than fluffy, though).

The Drunken Bet We Do Not Speak Of: Set between Telekinesis 101 (Or A Guide to Readjusting Perceptions and Telekinesis for Dummies. There's one thing the entire team agreed on unanimously: never bring up the night Tony got everyone drunk, including Thor and Steve.

The Drunken Bet We Do Not Speak Of

It started, perhaps not oddly enough, on a Thursday. Or to be more specific, it was brought to their attention on a Friday.

The team had been enjoying a relaxing breakfast in the kitchen, Steve keeping a watchful eye on Tony's coffee intake, when Thor walked in, sat down, and heaved a heavy sigh. Coming from a being who was normally the epitome of cheerful and optimistic, this was strange.

It was strange enough that Tony looked up from where he'd been hacking his omelet into bits. "You all right?"

"It is small of me, but I find that I miss Asgard's ale," Thor said. "Midgardian alcohol is flavorful, but not strong enough for one of my constitution."

Steve was still going through Thor's words to find the point of it when Tony said, "You mean you can't get drunk."

"Indeed."

"You tried it yesterday?"

"I had thought to celebrate my namesake," Thor confirmed.

"You've been here for months," Natasha said. "Why now?"

"I have toasted thusly every week," Thor said. "But I find that I grow tired of drinking with nary an effect."

"Mm…" Tony tapped his fork in consideration against his plate, a gleam in his eyes that quite frankly terrified Steve. It usually heralded a binge in the workshop and explosions and other random happenings. This included the time he'd made a sentient stove named Peggy by Steve; a singing flower vase was included in this list, although no one knew what Tony had done to that.

Steve's consolation was that Bruce was right now busy in subtly helping Clint solve his crossword puzzle; he was thus thoroughly absorbed in the task of not letting Clint know the other was doing all the work for him. Bruce had no idea about the possibly crazy ideas running through Tony's head.

"Hey, Bruce." Tony threw a wadded up paper ball at Bruce's head. "What do you say to making a new brand of alcohol that'll get gods drunk?"

In the background, Peggy gave a beep that sounded distinctly disapproving. This was probably more due to the fact that she didn't like Thor than anything else.

"Sounds marvelous," Bruce said, not looking up from where he was scribbling in the margins of the newspaper. Steve doubted he had even been paying attention to what Tony had asked.

"Oh great," Natasha said, face completely in agreement with Steve's thoughts.

"Bruce." The newspaper was yanked out from underneath Clint's hands, coming to a stop next to Tony.

"Hey!" Clint cried indignantly. "I was working on that!"

"So was I," Bruce said. When Clint gave him a sharp look, he immediately changed it to, "I mean, I was watching." He turned his full attention to Tony. "What, Tony?"

Clint didn't look at all convinced at Bruce's poor excuse.

"Alcohol that'll beat Thor's mega-metabolism," Tony repeated. "Up for some major brewing?"

Steve tried to dissuade him from this potentially very bad plan. "Are you sure you should be doing this?" His statement was backed up by Peggy's adamant beeping.

"Yep." Tony absentmindedly patted his hand. "Team spirit and all that. Shh, Peggy."

"I don't see how helping Thor get drunk involves team spirit."

"Not just for Thor." Tony gave him a blinding grin that still made Steve's brain stutter and grind to a halt. "Don't you also want the chance?"

With a jolt, Steve managed to get his brain back on track. "I think I'm good."

Natasha snorted disbelievingly, and Steve shot her a betrayed glance. He'd commented offhandedly once that he'd like to know what being drunk felt like, but it wasn't like he had a burning desire to experience it.

"Thor?" Bruce asked.

"I do not wish for you to waste your time," Thor said.

As if that response had decided it for him, Bruce put his pencil down, looking over at Tony. "Okay."

Peggy let out a depressed hiss.

Tony lit up. "Awesome!" He flicked the newspaper back to Clint, leaned over to give Steve a peck on the cheek, and grabbed Bruce by the wrist, dragging him out of the kitchen.

Natasha took a sip of her tea, giving a small roll of her eyes. "This will either turn out to be good or very, very bad."

"I vote for good," Clint said, starting back on his puzzle with a small frown. "I'd rather not have any more explosions."

"They will succeed," Thor said confidently.

Steve shared a glance with Natasha. "That's what we're concerned about…"

They were all aware that getting Tony drunk was a very bad plan. The plumbing and lights exploding had been the first and last time Thor and Clint had gotten Tony drunk.

And if Tony took a small drink of that very strong alcohol he was now on his way to brewing, Steve had no doubt that he'd get sloshed pretty damn quickly.

He could only cross his fingers and hope nothing would happen.

Steve had been right to fear that prospective gleam in Tony's eyes. For the next five days, he was unsuccessful in coaxing Tony out of the workshop except when it involved promises of sex, and he was loathe to use such an intimate act as a bargaining chip. Besides, it wouldn't solve the problem of Bruce remaining down there because there was no way in hell Steve was doing a threesome.

…If sex would even entice Bruce, which Steve highly doubted.

The only thing he could do was bring down food and occasionally stagger out when the stench of alcohol grew too strong even for him. Tony and Bruce seemed largely unaffected, but that was probably because of the masks they had on. He'd sent Natasha down once and hadn't repeated the mistake when she didn't come up until the next morning, red-cheeked and rather blurry-eyed.

Apparently eagerly anticipating the opportunity to get drunk off fumes alone, Clint volunteered to do the next food run. Steve had vetoed it with the firm statement that they needed him sober in case of a mission. Natasha could fight while slightly tipsy – something they'd seen in a bar when she took out six burly men who'd gotten too handsy for their own goods; the team had gotten kicked out and banned but Tony had said it was totally worth it – but Steve wasn't sure about Clint.

Steve didn't bother restricting Thor from going down there, and the Asgardian did so eagerly, only coming up for meals and sleep.

It was Thursday morning when Tony and Bruce came out of the workshop/lab, flushed and grinning triumphantly. Well, Tony grinned. Bruce just looked really pleased and rather loopy; Steve hoped he wasn't drunk. He didn't fancy calming down a drunk Hulk.

"It's done," Tony announced, coming up behind Steve to prop himself up against Steve's shoulders. "Really strong and potent alcohol capable of getting an Asgardian or super soldier drunk."

Peggy tooted disapprovingly.

"I don't want it," Steve said even as Thor beamed and boomed, "Excellent news, Anthony!"

Clint perked up from where he'd been doing his crossword puzzle; he'd been failing rather abysmally the entire week without Bruce's help, even with Natasha sneaking in Russian words. "Can we try it?"

"I'd recommend diluting it for people with regular metabolisms," Bruce said, wiping the lenses of his glasses with a paper towel. "It was brewed with super metabolisms in mind."

"I'm still for it," Clint said, letting Natasha pluck the pencil out of his hand to scribble a Russian word into the puzzle.

"Let us drink!" Thor said, slamming his coffee mug down on the table.

Steve stopped Tony from moving anywhere by laying a hand on his, squeezing his fingers warningly. "No one's drinking anything at nine in the morning. We can do it tonight, after you get some sleep." He looked pointedly at both Bruce and Tony.

"All right, mother hen," Tony said, patting Steve's head with his other hand. "I could do with a shower."

"Are you telling us you didn't shower at all the last week?" Steve asked, looking up at Tony in disbelief.

"I touched water," Tony said.

"And everyone will be pleased to know you adhered to the basic protocols of sanitization, sir," JARVIS said.

"Zip it." Tony shook a finger at a hidden camera.

"You're taking a shower," Steve stated firmly.

"Yes, Mother."

"Now if that were true, there would be some really funky stuff going on," Clint said.

To the soundtrack of Peggy playing the marching band, Tony dumped the rest of Clint's water over his head. Steve quickly escorted him out before things could get ugly. Their bed had been rather cold for the last week, so he was looking forward to some cuddling, even if Tony would be out cold for most of it.

This had been a very bad idea.

Horrendously bad.

So bad and – Tony sucking a hickey into his neck was really derailing his thoughts.

"Bad idea," Steve slurred slightly, blinking down at his grinning boyfriend.

"You look really cute when you're drunk," was all Tony said in response, finalizing his work with one last kiss.

"All your fault," Steve said, and his thoughts really weren't coming together right.

"Now, my dear, I can only take fifty percent of the credit." Tony gestured over to where Bruce was cautiously watching Clint's alcohol intake, although Steve thought he saw Clint dump the diluted drink before filching an undiluted one from the table.

"I thought it was twelve?" Steve asked.

Tony paused, narrowing his eyes. "Pepper's never going to let me live that one down, is she."

Steve took a moment to let that statement sink through his alcohol-fogged brain before he shook his head. "No."

Tony patted Steve's cheek and gave him another glass, taking the other one for himself. Something flashed through his dark eyes.

"No sad thoughts," Steve said, squeezing Tony's hip in reprimand. He would've said "reminiscing," but he didn't think his tongue could handle it.

"Nothing sad here," Tony said automatically, swilling the leftover alcohol of Steve's drink around the bottom of the glass.

Steve was unable to call bullshit as Thor came up, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He held the largest glass Tony had in the house, and it was almost empty.

"Anthony!" Thor boomed, not slurring at all much to Steve's displeasure. "I commend you on this excellent drink!"

"You're not drunk yet, are you?" Tony peered up at Thor, half-twisting around on Steve's lap.

"Nay," Thor replied cheerfully. "But I find that the world seems a much friendlier place!"

"So, almost drunk then," Tony noted.

"Heeey, Tony!" Clint stumbled over to them, a crazy grin plastered on his face. He tripped over his feet and would've face planted if Thor hadn't caught him. "Thanks, buddy," he mumbled, patting a bemused Thor's nose. Clint turned his attention back to Tony, eyes bleary. "This thing is da bomb."

Tony sounded like he was desperately repressing laughter. "Is it?"

"Oh yeah." Clint nodded eagerly.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, taking Clint from Thor. "He had some of the undiluted version before I could stop him."

Natasha draped herself over the back of the couch Steve and Tony were sitting on. "Much stronger than Russian vodka," she informed Tony in carefully clipped words that signified she was much drunker than she was letting on.

For a few seconds, Steve silently lamented the loss of Tony's attention before realizing he was behaving like an idiot and should just think of something else. Like the way the light played on Tony's face and seemed to light up his grin until Steve couldn't resist leaning in and kissing it.

So he did.

He cut Tony off mid-word, swallowing the sound and pulling Tony in to mash their mouths together. The kiss was clumsier than usual, Steve clashing their teeth together before Tony managed to adjust and Steve was in heaven.

They made out for the next several minutes, Steve losing his glass somewhere in the process and not caring. He felt the couch shake as Natasha slid off it, but Tony slipping a hand under the back of his shirt distracted him from paying any more attention to what she was doing.

Maybe this wasn't that bad an idea after all.

"I am the fastest in the air," Thor announced proudly, holding Mjölnir up in demonstration. "No other has ever beaten me in contest."

Tony perked up from where he'd been slumped against Steve's side. "Really?"

"Verily!" Thor beamed.

"I bet you beat him," Clint slurred heavily. He'd evidently imbibed more undiluted alcohol despite Bruce's best efforts.

And Bruce himself looked like he'd indulged a bit, partly because of the way Natasha kept poking at him.

"Beat who?" Tony asked, arching an eyebrow. The sight was so endearing that Steve had to lean in to plant a sloppy kiss on his temple.

"You"—Clint pointed vaguely in the direction of Thor—"beat him." He moved to point back at Tony but ended up nearly poking himself in the eye.

"I resent the insinuation that my marvelous suit would lose out to a mere hammer," Tony said, sounding completely insulted.

"She is no mere hammer," Thor said regally, a faint frown crossing his face.

"I forgot. She's sentient."

"Sentent hammer whips suit any day," Clint said, snickering into his hand.

"That 'sentent' hammer is a hammer," Tony pointed out.

"Is your manhood feeling threatened?" Natasha asked, smirking.

"I could do without you saying 'manhood' ever again, but to answer your question that's a no."

"Would you care to wager on that?" Thor asked, a mischievous grin lighting his features up.

"No gambling," Steve managed to say.

"Shh, babe." Tony patted his arm reassuringly, not taking his eyes off Thor. "Suit vs. hammer? You're on, Thor."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Bruce said.

"What's the goal?" Tony asked, bouncing up from the couch. Steve nearly tipped over onto his side from the loss of support. He already missed Tony's blazing warmth.

"London," Clint said randomly.

"London!" Thor agreed before anyone else could say anything.

"Transatlantic, huh?" Tony grinned broadly. "Should be fun. JARVIS, prep the suit!"

JARVIS's response was so dry it could've set paper on fire. "Yes, sir."

"Not a good idea," Bruce repeated, frowning.

"Aw, cheer up, sweet cheeks!" Tony slung an arm around Bruce's shoulders, grinning widely. "This'll be fun!"

"No, it won't."

In the future, Steve was never quite able to explain just what happened in the next half hour. It was all a big blur in his memory, and Tony had never actually deigned to explain, instead insisting he'd also been drunk even though Steve knew he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol.

In the end, all Steve knew was that somehow Bruce ended up losing control and hulking out. And while Hulk had been rather displeased at his surroundings, he had been agreeable enough to picking Tony up in his armor and launching him straight into the sky right as Thor blasted off.

Despite his bad memory, Steve could clearly recall Tony's whoop of joy as he flew off into the distance. He also remembered Hulk sitting down in the grass and refusing to move, staring mulishly at the spot in the sky where he'd sent Tony.

But after that Steve couldn't tell anyone what had happened. Just that he somehow ended up back in the living room and woke up the next morning with a headache and JARVIS informing him in a dry tone that "Mr. Stark set a new record for crossing the Atlantic Ocean and Dr. Banner is sleeping outside on the lawn. I would advise he be brought back inside."

Steve had no idea where Clint and Natasha had gone off to, but he did go outside to wake Bruce up and take him inside. Both of them had only vague recollections of the previous night, and it wasn't until JARVIS replayed the footage that they realized what had happened.

By this time Clint and Natasha had stumbled back into the room, hair mussed and bleary-eyed – Clint was looking rather green and all around regretful of his life choices – and both of them seemed all too willing to forget what had happened the previous night.

By the time Tony and Thor came back, they all agreed never to speak of the previous night again. JARVIS gladly destroyed all records of the alcohol Tony and Bruce had cooked up.

Steve never wanted to get drunk again, although he'd gladly spend a few hours making out with Tony. Just not while drunk.

Thoughts? Hope you enjoyed it! :)