Y/n paced up and down the halls.
Bored.
The Avengers tower was always boring on Friday night, unless you like to drink and party.
Which y/n did not.
They had already binged a few shows and read as far as they could in their book before their eyes began to cross.
Now they were bored and if they were honest with themself, they were also lonely.
While, yes, there are a lot of people who are a part of the Avengers, most of them are in little cliques.
No one was rude about it, though. But it was obvious who was in what group.
You have your tech group, the og group, the magic group, the teenager group, etc.
There are so many different groups, but y/n never really fit into any perfectly.
They got along well with everyone, but they never felt that they belonged in any of them.
Sighing at the thought of being chronically alone, y/n spun around beginning their trek back to their room.
After passing several doors, y/n froze.
Coming from room 6117 was the sound of the soothing voice of Glen Campbell.
Y/n pressed their ear against the door to hear better.
🎶I dream of the things I'll do
With a subway token and a dollar tucked inside my shoe...🎶
Y/n grins. There is no way Sam Wilson is listening to Rhinestone Cowboy!
Without missing a beat, y/n knocks on the door.
The music stops immediately. And foot steps can be heard approaching the door.
The door opens slightly, with Sam poking his head out.
"Hi, what uh brings you here, y/n?"
Sam asks, scratching the back of his head nervously.
"OH, nothing really. You know, I've been walking these streets so long, singing the same old song."
Y/n says with a big smirk.
"You heard, didn't you?"
"Yes, yes, I did. So you got two options. 1: You let me in, and we have a dance party, or 2: you don't let me in, and everyone finds out Mr. Smooth Operator listens to old country and western music."
"Fine. Come on."
Sam says as he opens the door wider.
As the door closes, "OMG, YOU HAVE A COWBOY HAT TOO" could be heard being shouted by a particularly excited y/n.
Loud music and loud, somewhat off note singing could be heard coming from room 6117 every Friday night.
Sam and y/n eventually bought matching Cowboy hats and boots. Y/n never spent another moment feeling lonely. They had found their clique, The Rhinestone Cowboys.