A Call to Action (Avengers Fan Fiction #1) | REWRITING

Chapter 32

I heard footsteps behind me forty-five seconds later hitting the dirt like an elephant in a stampede. Steve grunted and grit his teeth as he sprinted ahead me. Minutes flew by and we were close to the finish line. I did the only thing I could do in a situation like this.

I tackled Steve.

"What the...Parker!" He writhed underneath me. He tried to get his hands to bind my arms behind my back, but I quickly pinned him down.

I sat on his stomach to make sure he couldn't move. I grinned and breathlessly stated, "You never said I couldn't tackle you in the race." He's stronger than I am. Why isn't he trying?

Steve stopped to breathe for a second and appeared puzzled. "Always finding loopholes...of course." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and added, "Funny. We both are always searching for ways around the situation."

He threw me over him using his legs and I skidded across the dirt. My arms burned and rocks embedded themselves in my skin, drawing blood. He tried. I looked at the trail I left behind when I got my bearings straight. And failed. "You made me go through the finish line." I pointed at the line I had drawn earlier and chuckled. I won.

"Are you kidding me?" He whined and picked himself up. Steve made his way over to me and helped me up as I healed. "Guess I shouldn't complain. No rules equals freedom to do anything."

I joked, "Yeah, and you know all about freedom." I brushed off all the rocks and dirt. I grimaced at what I wiped off of my face and threw it to the ground with a flick of my wrist.

Steve tilted his head to the side and glared at me. He replied in a dead tone, "Yeah, like that joke doesn't get old." He cracked his neck and sighed in relief. "I think you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"What are-" I stopped mid-sentence and saw him break out into a run. "Steve, you sly son of a..." I trailed off and went after him.

We ended up back at the tower twenty minutes later. Steve jumped into the elevator and waved to me as the doors closed in my face. I slammed my fist onto the metal and grunted, "Damn..." I lurched up the stairs in an attempt to beat him, but who was I kidding?

He made it to the eighteenth floor before I even had the chance to. When I got onto the floor, I dropped to the ground. Steve caught me and held me up. "Whoa, are you okay? Those stairs are killer, you know."

"I would have made it," I exhaled loudly as my chest heaved to put oxygen into my lungs, "if someone, not naming who, waited for me."

"What's the fun in that? I told you that you were going to be sorely disappointed. I won the race to the tower," Steve grinned from ear-to-ear and helped me stay on my feet. His hands rested on my waist to make sure I wouldn't collapse again.

I put my hands on his shoulders and stood there for a second to maintain my balance. The cold room put goose bumps on my skin and the whole eighteenth floor seemed to stand still. Silence hung in the air and made my ears ring. "Should we wake everyone up?"

"Let's make breakfast first. I don't want them complaining like little children about being hungry. They're very indecisive on what they want to eat," Steve explained and headed towards the kitchen.

After setting out plates and silverware on the counter, I helped Steve cook. Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, waffles, and coffee was freshly made and put onto platters. Steve and I cracked jokes and almost got ourselves into a food fight while we were at it. When we were done and changed out of our dirty running wear, we headed to Natasha's room.

She stretched like a cat in her bed when we disturbed her in her sleep. Her red hair tangled together in a curled mess and her green eyes didn't have a shine to them yet. Natasha yawned and strolled out of her room and into Clint's. She jumped onto his bed and barked, "Wake up, Clint!"

Barton moved around and his face scrunched up in irritation. He squinted his eyes as he adjusted to the bright sunlight pouring into the room and looked at all of us. "I hate you all...Get out of my room," he groaned tiredly. "Let me sleep. My bed and I are in a relationship that I can't break..."

"Is it stronger than ours? Hate to break it to you, Clint, but this bed can't do the things I can to you," Natasha purred and traced her fingers along his face.

Barton lit up and pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Never." Natasha giggled and kissed him, moving her hands to his hair.

I cringed and shoved passed Rogers. "Alright, I'm out." Steve and I woke up Peter, who almost threw a book at us. He got into a different position and relaxed until we told him that we made food. He shot out of his bed and headed to the kitchen. Thor sat down at the dining room table, already feasting on breakfast. He smiled at us with a full mouth food and watched as we entered the elevator.

Tony slept in his lab. He was on the ground, stained in oil with a wrench in his hand and a blueprint by his side. I glanced over to see his suit on the table in need of repair. Steve woke him up to a loud thud as he dropped a tool onto the ground.

Stark flinched and sat up, his eyes wide in fear. When he saw it was only us, he rolled his eyes and wiped his face with his grimy hands. "Ahhh, everything hurts..." He stretched his stiff muscles and used the table beside him to get onto his feet.

"You should sleep in your bed more often. This is probably why Pepper worries about you," I pointed out. He rarely slept in his room. That was the last place we'd ever look for him.

He sighed and went over to the sink to wash his hands and face. "Whatever. Get me some coffee and I'll be good."

The kitchen was overcrowded with people. We all swiftly moved around each other and underneath plates being held up. All of us chattered while in conversation about something random Bruce had thought up.

All was going well until Peter accidentally bumped into Clint, causing him to drop the coffee pot onto the floor. The glass shattered everywhere and the hot substance sank into the crevices of the tile. The kitchen fell silent as we watched the scene in horror.

Clint stared down at the mess sadly, a pained expression swept over his features. "Aw, coffee...no..."

"Clint, I'm so-"

Barton cut Peter off by putting his index finger in the air, motioning him to shut up. He exhaled, nearly angrily, and kept his voice in a low tone, "Now I have to go on without my coffee."

Peter appeared petrified as he walked passed him and into the dining room. His brown eyes glued to the wall and his lips arched into the low corner of his chin, making a 'my bad' kind of look.

Tony leaned over next to me while getting some eggs and informed me, "This is his first morning without coffee."

"We're in uncharted territory, guys. Be careful," Nat warned as she walked out of the kitchen with two breakfast plates in her hands.

Bruce almost broke out into a light chuckle until he repressed it. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "At least you didn't break anything of Natasha's. She gets really creative with revenge."

Tony, Steve, and I looked at each other in horror before snapping Peter out of his trance. We didn't know if Clint could be worse than Natasha...but who were we kidding? Natasha did worse things than all of us combined because she had the guts and confidence to.

Barton was fine for the rest of the day until he "accidentally" broke Peter's disc collection of Lord of the Rings. Then he was feeling better.