| Warning: Mild Language |
No one moved.
Bucky's golden retriever, Dewey, ran through the room and picked up a tissue off the floor. "Dewey, drop it," Bucky said sternly.
But still, no one moved, except now Bucky continued to clean up the trash so Dewey wouldn't keep taking off with it. He looked up at Sam from the floor, "I take it a plus sign means pregnancy...?"
"Yeah," Sam said.
Tony still held the plastic stick in his hand, looking it over as if maybe it would change.
Steve shifted in the doorway, "So what do we do with is? - Do we pretend we never saw it? I mean, it's not our business..."
"Well, it is for one of you," Sam said. "Not me..." he trailed off. "But one of you."
"It's not me," Tony said, looking relieved.
"Why do you say that?" Bucky asked.
"I mean... I'm always safe," he chuckled.
"So am I," Bucky said, with a straight face.
"Same here," Steve said, stepping into the room further. His mind started to wander.
"Yeah, but... I mean..." Tony started but fizzled out.
"Is he broken?" Bucky asked, looking at Steve. He bagged the garbage and gave Dewey a good ear rub.
"Might be," Steve confirmed.
"Gentlemen, have a seat," Tony said. He walked for the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey and reached for four shot glasses.
No one wanted to rock the boat, so they all grabbed a barstool. Tony started pouring out shots. They all lifted the shot glasses and Steve held his up in the air. Tony threw the shot back before anyone said a word.
"Not making a toast?" Steve asked.
"Oh... that would have been good, I suppose," Tony said. "I just thought everyone needed a drink."
"Alright, let's calm down," Steve said gently. "We don't have all the details. We know nothing at all."
"We know someone's knocked up," Tony said, dryly.
"Tony, geeze," Steve said. "Have some couth."
The sound of footsteps came from the sitting room. "Where is everyone? - I thought we were watching the game?" It was Clint, full of life, excited to be out of the house, and ready for some football and guy time.
"In here," Steve called out, turning around to see him.
"Sorry, I'm late. I wasn't expecting traffic today," Clint said.
Tony got another shot glass out. "Barton?"
"Oh yeah, I'll take a shot," he said, enthusiastically. Everyone else was eerily quiet, as he was now noticing. "What's a... is something wrong?"
But before anyone could answer, Clint looked at the paper towel sitting on the countertop. "Holy shit! Who do I congratulate?" Clint was all smiles.
"We don't know," Sam said. "But not me," he smiled.
Clint laughed softly to himself. "You poor bastards." Clint threw back the shot and plopped down on a stool. "Where are the ladies?"
"Nat and (Y/N) went to a movie," Bucky said.
"Pepper's downstairs working," Tony added.
"So you guys are just going to sit around and sweat until they come back?" Clint laughed. "Come on, let's go watch the game."