Inheritance of ash

game night

The room quieted for a beat, the TV murmuring softly in the background.

Tony broke the silence. "Fair enough."

Everyone looked at him.

"What?" he asked, holding up a hand. "Kid's allowed to have a bad day. I have those all the time."

"You cause those all the time," Steve said from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Tony ignored him. "She's here. She's eating. She hasn't accidentally blown up anything today. I'm calling that a win."

Vicky glanced at him from the side, expression unreadable. But after a second, she leaned a little further into the couch cushions and quietly said, "Thanks."

Peter bumped her knee with his. "Just don't blow me up."

"No promises," she said around a mouthful of brownie.

⸻

The common room looked like a war zone. There were empty snack bowls on every surface, markers with missing caps, and someone had taped "Team Chaos Rules" to the back of Steve's shield. No one confessed to it, but everyone knew it was Kate.

Bruce had surrendered scorekeeping after round three. Thor had half-eaten the red marker cap, claiming it was "surprisingly tangy" but truthfully he had mistaken it for the Dorito in his other hand. Clint was nursing a shoulder injury - self-inflicted during an impassioned guess that involved falling off the couch.

And now the game was spiraling.

"You cannot draw that!" Steve barked, pointing at the monstrosity on the board.

Natasha crossed her arms, unimpressed. "It's clearly a scorpion."

"It's clearly trauma with legs," Bucky muttered from the corner.

"Looks like a lovechild between a crab and a blender," Sam added, leaning over to fist-bump Bucky mid-laugh.

"Don't insult blenders like that," Wanda said from the floor, half-lounging beside Pietro, who was eating popcorn by the fistful.

"Excuse you," Natasha replied smoothly, "this was modern impressionism."

Pietro snorted. "If this is art, then I'm Picasso."

"You don't even know who that is," Wanda said without looking at him.

"Still counts."

"Alright, alright," Tony interrupted, clapping once. "Let's keep this vaguely civilized. Next up-Team Chaos."

Vicky and Peter exchanged a look like two soldiers about to step onto a battlefield.

"We're not calling ourselves that," Peter said weakly.

"Oh, but we are," Vicky shot back, grabbing the marker.

From across the room, Sam whispered to Bucky, "I give them three rounds before they start arguing like an old married couple."

"They already do," Bucky replied without missing a beat.

Vicky flipped her card over, stared at it, then sighed in betrayal. "You're kidding."

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"Can't tell you, spider-boy. Just prepare to suffer."

She attacked the whiteboard like it had insulted her family. Lines. Blobs. A dramatic swirl.

Peter squinted. "Uh... horseshoe crab? No. Uhm... a jellyfish wearing a hat?"

Vicky dropped her arm and stared. "Peter. Seriously?"