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Holding a plastic bag in her far hand, Pepper Potts strode out of Tony Stark’s office and down the hallway. She kept her eyes straight forward. Nothing unusual about that.
But something about it caught Sam’s attention.
”Interesting.” He mumbled under his breath as Pepper walked by. He followed her with his eyes. “Very interesting.”
After a moment, as soon as Pepper was out of sight, he leaned forward vigorously. “Guys.”
Peter Quill, Natasha, and Bruce looked up from what they were doing. Peter was on his Zune, Natasha was observing her knives, and Bruce was hunched over a piece of paper that probably was filled with math equations. “What?” He asked, setting down his pen.
“Tony Stark has no pants on.” Sam grinned.
Peter furrowed his brow, uncomfortable. Nat did the same, and Bruce looked over his shoulder. There was a window where you could see into Tony’s office, and he was sitting in his chair behind a desk, doing work. He didn’t look pantsless— not from here.
”Sorry,” Natasha asked. “What?”
“He has no pants on, is what!” Sam exclaimed.“Here are the facts— at 11:55, Pepper walked into his office, bringing him a bowl of hot soup. At 12:03, I heard him yell ‘ouch!’. At at 12:07, Pepper Potts entered his room, holding nothing. A minute later, she walked by us, holding an opaque plastic bag where we couldn’t see it.”
”You made a timetable of all this?” Bruce asked.
Sam ignored him. “Ergo: his pants are in the bag. He is pantsless.”
”His knees are in the breeze.” Peter breathed, partly disgusted, partly in awe. “The man’s in his undies.”
Natasha groaned when Sam gave him a high five.
”That evidence is circumstantial.” She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, you want visual confirmation?” Sam raised his eyebrows.
The three shook their heads vigorously.
”No.” said Bruce.
”Not at all.” Said Nat.
”I’d rather not.” Said Peter.
“Done.” Sam ignored their pleas and stood, walking to his office door.
He opened it, and Tony looked up from his desk. He was typing something on the computer in front of him, and turned to see Sam.
He turned back to his work and continued to type. “Did you need something?”
”Yeah, I’ve just got a couple of forms for you to sign.” Sam hesitated. “At my desk.”
”Bring them here. I am a busy man, Wilson.”
He sucked in a breath and turned on his heel. “Alright,” He said.
Shamefully, he walked back out into the hallway and shut the door. Stark didn’t take the bait. Damn it. Nat and Bruce turned to look and watch Sam come out, and Peter chuckled.
”Well, well.” He pulled out an earbud. “Seems as if you’re the one caught with your pants down.
Natasha pat his shoulder. “Look’s like Sam’s just a pervert.”
Wilson shook his head, frustrated. “He has no pants on. I’m telling you. What’s something that’ll make him stand up...?”
“Tell him that... I dunno, AC/DC is touring?” Bruce shrugged.
Nat shot him a glare.
”What? I’ll never let Tony live this down if it’s true.”
”Got it.” Sam grinned, and turned on his heel again.
He was sent out of the room almost as soon as he walked in. Tony was certainly smarter than buying into something like that, and before the word were even out of Sam’s mouth, he was out. Grumbling, he shut the door again. Nat had a smile on her face.
”Okay, Okay...” Sam rubbed his head. “One more try.”
”You could tell him you were in danger.” Peter suggested. “Like, choking or something. He’s not so much of a douche he’d just let that happen, right?”
”Let’s hope so.” Sam sighed.
Once more, he walked into the room. But instead of just opening the door, he frantically pushed it open with one hand, and pantomimed choking quite convincingly with the other hand around his throat. He stuck out his tongue and gagged. “Stark!” He said, strangled. “I’m choking on a losenge! Only you can save me!”
A faraway voice chimed in before Tony even looked at him. “Mr. Falcon!” It said. “I’ve got you!”
Peter Parker bolted into the room frantically, and wrapped his arms around Sam’s stomach in an attempt at the Hiemlich. Apparently, his spider strength was off the charts, because he pushed so hard into his gut that Sam wheezed.
“It’s okay, Peter!” He cried out. “I swallowed it— oof!”
Panicked, Parker set him down. “Are you sure? Are you sure you’re okay.”
”I’m fine.” Sam cleared his throat and looked over to Stark.
The man didn’t even look up.
Sam just groaned and left the room without another word, leaving very confused teen behind. Peter looked to Stark for some kind of confirmation. The man still did not look over, and just tapped away in his keyboard.
”Hi, Mr. Stark.” He said.
”Hi, kid.” Tony replied.
Peter followed after Sam, still a little nervous.
”What happened in there?” Natasha asked seriously.
”I pretended to choke,” Wilson admitted. “And the guy didn’t even look up.”
”You were pretending?!” Peter’s voice cracked as he shut the door. “You scared me, Mr. Falcon!”
He winced. “Sorry, kid.”
The teen sighed, crossing his arms. “It’s fine.” He admitted. “But... what’s going on?”
”Birdman here thinks that Stark has no pants on.” Quill shook his head.
Peter’s face paled. “You mean— I was in the same room as Tony when he didn’t have any pants on?”
”Definitely not.” Natasha crossed her arms. “It’s a stupid idea that Sam had.”
”Maybe even a birdbrained one.” Bruce chuckled at his bad joke.
Sam groaned. “I swear, I’m going to break that man if it is the last thing I do.”
An hour later, Sam had fixed himself some lunch. It was some lunch that he planned so share with a special someone. It was, after all, a very special lunch. Chicken noodle soup from a can, but that wouldn’t be the main course. No. The main course would be a hearty, mouthwatering serving of victory.
Pouring the soup from the ladle into the bowl, Wilson smiled. Was he going too far? Probably. Would it be worth it? Absolutely.
He brought the bowl up to Stark’s office with a smile on his face. “Hey, hey, Tony.” He said, opening the door. “I made you another bowl of soup since you spilled yours earlier.”
Stark took off his glasses in frustration as Sam walked in.
“But,” Sam sat down on a chair opposite Tony’s desk. “You’re going to have to come over here to get it.”
Tony sighed, finished. “Alright, Sam. I’m sick of you wasting time. So, yes. I spilled some minestrone on my pants, and am sitting in my underwear.” He shrugged. “Happy?”
”Yes!” Sam exclaimed, doing a fist pump. However, he was still gripping the bowl, and it tumbled from his hands and into his lap. The hot soup spilled all over his pants.
Sam hissed in pain, his victory so immediately replaced with searing hot noodles and broth sweeping into his jeans. “Ah.” He exhaled.
A few minutes later, Natasha strode into the room holding a file. “Sir,” She said, looking into the open folder. “I need you to sign off on this—“
The words died on her lips as she looked up and saw Sam sitting behind Tony’s desk too, acting like he was supposed to be there. He had his arms crossed.
”Look at us,” he said. “Just three people with pants on.”
“Yep.” Tony said, nonchalantly taking the file from Natasha. “No story here.”
Silently, not breaking eye contact, Natasha slowly backed up and leaned out of the doorway. “Bruce,” she yelled down the hallway, still staring. “Come here.”