The team had decided to unwind after a long week of saving the world, and someone—probably Clint—had suggested playing a round of 7 Minutes in Heaven. It was a silly, juvenile game, but after a few drinks and some good-natured ribbing, everyone had agreed.

The game had been going on for a few rounds now, filled with laughter, awkward moment and some surprising makeout sessions. Now, it was your turn.

You stepped forward, reaching into the bowl of random items everyone had thrown in to represent themselves. Your fingers brushed against a set of keys, and you pulled them out, holding them up to the light. The sleek, metallic key fob gleamed, and the unmistakable Porsche logo stared back at you.

The room erupted into laughter and whistles. Tony Stark, leaning casually against the bar with a glass of scotch in hand, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well,” he said, his voice dripping with his usual charm. “Looks like someone’s hitting the jackpot," he adds, making you groan. Perfect, just what you needed

“Alright, lovebirds,” Clint said, grinning as he gestured toward the closet. “Clock’s ticking.”

You shot Clint a glare, but Tony was already sauntering toward the closet.