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Rhodey stares in horror at the creeping, sadistic grin on his murderer’s face. He could only watch, helpless, as he lay bleeding out on the concrete sidewalk, an ever expanding pool of red beneath him. He’d tried so hard to make it through this, to get his team through this, only to have this fucking psycho ambush them and gun them all down in the home stretch. Goddammit they’d nearly made it!
That grinning visage crept closer, an unholy spark of joy shining from laughing brown eyes as he stared at the carnage he had wrought. Rhodey glowered as savagely as he was able, “Don’t you dare, you sadistic son of a bitch!” he snarled.
That impossibly wide grin stretched even further as the man opened his mouth to speak around that smug smile.
“Don’t you do it! Don’t you fucking do it!” Rhodey threatened.
Pearly whites glinted in the afternoon sun as a strange, lilting melody slowly drifted from the fucking psycho. “Go tell Aunt Rhodey. Go tell Aunt Rhodey~!”
Rhodes dropped the Xbox controller onto the couch cushion beside him as he raised a threatening finger at his asshole best friend. “I swear to god, Stark, you keep singing that fucking song-”
Tony ignored the threats as well as the fact that Rhodey was now rocking his justifiable homicide face and continued to tauntingly sing his victory song. Neither noticed as the death cam footage came to end on the giant flat screen and the game instead began to list the match stats. “Go tell Aunt Rhodey that everyone…. is…. DEAD!”
“Okay, that’s it!” Rhodey cried before pouncing on the smug asshole, knocking him back onto the ludicrously comfortable sofa and tickling the billionaire for all he was worth. The asshole grin was satisfyingly knocked off his best friend’s stupid smug face as he began laughing and squirming against the couch cushions, struggling in vain to counter attack his larger friend while howling with laughter.
On the other side of the seating area Clint sidled up to sit on the arm of Natasha’s plush chair, cereal bowl of Lucky Charms in hand. Both watched the one sided tickle fight avidly.
“Well damn, Tasha, forced to watch two attractive men wrestling on a couch in a luxurious multi-million dollar apartment. Our lives are so cruel and joyless.” Clint drawled, watching avidly at the play of thick muscle on Rhodes’ back and Tony’s flushed face and surprisingly flexible thrashing as he attempted to buck the other man off him.
A smirk blossomed on his partner’s face. “Hmm… it’s a wonder we haven’t gone crazy from the hardships.” she agreed.
Neither of them so much as glanced at the other, too entranced by the scene in front of them. An obnoxiously loud crunch sounded out next to her ear as Clint took another blind bite of his cereal.
“Can the two of you try not objectifying your teammate?” Steve called out disapprovingly as he crossed the large, open room from the elevator towards the communal kitchen.
The two spysassins quirked a grin at each other before quickly turning their attention back to the free show in front of them. Natasha drawling in her most bland voice, “So that wasn’t you at breakfast this morning ogling Tony’s ass when he bent over to get another bag of beans from the coffee drawer?”
Clint hummed thoughtfully around another mouthful of marshmallowy goodness. “Must have been that other Steve Rogers that lives here.” he offered helpfully.
Steve’s ears and cheeks flushed bright red and he abruptly decided cowardice was the better part of valor, flipped both of them off, and retreated as quickly as he could into the kitchen. There were leftover blueberry waffles to eat, asshole teammates to ignore, and the lingering image of flushed and writhing billionaires to contemplate.