if you're not moving, you're not living

"I know I can do better, Flash-for-brains," Pietro replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He tilted his head cockily to the side. "You're on. It'll have to be delivery because I'm on 'Tower House Arrest,' but I've really been craving some free tacos." He gestured around the large, sectioned gymnasium that served for the training area. They had this part all to themselves, but there were a few other people scattered around. "We could do fifty laps around the place, or..." He rubbed his chin for a moment. "We could make it really interesting. Race from the top of the building to the bottom, touching every doorknob on the way. First one to the lobby wins?"

Barry grinned, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "Now you're speaking my language, Pietro. Speed and precision—I like it." He glanced around, assessing the logistics quickly. "Let's make it even more interesting. Every third door knob must be touched with the opposite hand." Barry stretched his arms, loosening up. "Ready when you are."

"Nah, I'm good. I kill people off from my Mom's side of the family all the time because I never really see them and everyone knows it's a tough subject for me, so they don't question it." She nodded at the other suggestion. "But then I have to be social. Unless it's someone I like, then I guess I can suffer." She pursed her lips together. "Mysterious illness could work, though. Also, you are way too quick at coming up with ways to get out of shit."

Barry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, years of being the Flash have taught me a thing or two about quick thinking. I'm always running late to things, so having a good excuse up my sleeve definitely comes in handy." He grinned. "And hey, if you ever need a backup plan, just give me a call. I've got plenty more where those came from." He leaned back, considering her options. "Mysterious illness is solid. Keep it vague, mention something about not wanting to spread it around. People usually back off when you mention germs." His grin widened. "Or, you could always pretend to get lost in the city. No one ever expects a hero to be directionally challenged."

"Because they want us to overcompensate for the fact that everytime we go off to save the city, we end up destroying half of the city in the process," Sam smiled at him, brightly. But it was gone a second later when she rolled her eyes. "At least that's what I'm assuming." She pursed her lips in thought. "I could kill off a great great aunt I don't have."

"That could work, just make sure to keep track of these fictional relatives so you don't accidentally bring them back. The other option is to tell them you have a prior commitment to a friend who really needs you this weekend. It’s not exactly a lie, and you get to spend time doing something you actually want to do. Plus, it sounds noble." He winked, adding, "And if all else fails, there's always the 'mysterious illness' card."

"I just forgot how to say it in English," Pietro quipped, smirking wide. "Thanks for reminding me. I told you so, stupid. You suck at taking turns that fast." He did too, but that didn't need to be said right now.

Barry chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in. But if you think you can do better, why don't we make it interesting? A little race, maybe?" He grinned, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Winner gets bragging rights and loser buys dinner."

Scott shrugged, "I wasn't completely right either! Though usually I'm the one who's completely wrong, so it's nice not being in that position for once."

Barry chuckled, "Yeah, it's a rare moment for both of us. But hey, we pulled it off in the end, right? Teamwork makes the dream work, or whatever that cheesy saying is."

“I need a legitimate excuse to get out of this charity party thingy I said I'd go to this weekend,” Sam started. “I can’t be social anymore. I met my quota for the month.”

Barry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Is it just me, or is there a new charity party every weekend? I say you go with the classic 'family emergency.' Always a winner and hard to argue with. Or, you could go with the 'urgent work deadline' excuse—never fails to get me off the hook."

[open]

"Of course I've thrown an axe before. Have you seen these limbs? Made for precision axe-throwing, my friend. Though, I have to admit, my technique might not be as polished as yours. I tend to do more of a… flail and pray kind of thing. But hey, as long as it gets the job done, right?"

[open]

He knew he shouldn't, but the bear was just begging to be poked. "I didn't see your name on it." Childish, Barry. So childish.

"Well, having no spleen helps. You could try that. They give you a fun bracelet and everything," Jessica said, smirking over at him. She picked up another drink at his suggestion and tossed it back. "I thought my superfreak powers were a bitch. Yours don't even let you get drunk? Tell me you at least get to fly or some shit to make up for it."

Barry chuckled at Jessica's suggestion. "Yeah, I'll pass on the spleen removal, thanks. As for flying, I wish. But no, just the super speed. But hey, at least I can save on cab fare, right?" He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. "Flying always looked fun though."

"I really only came for the booze," Jessica replied with a smirk. She gave him a quick once over. "Considering it's an Asgard party, should be a halfway decent night for both of us."

"Kinda jealous, honestly. I don't even think the amount of booze here would do much for me, sadly," Barry replied with a forced sigh. Liquor didn't have quite the same effect on him since the particle accelerator incident, and it took a considerable amount for him to feel even the slightest buzz before his metabolism could phase it out of his system. "Drink one for me?"

"It's just some chips, we could still go there." Scott shrugged. "I'm always down to get more food." He told him. "Plus I don't think one bag of chips would be enough for both of us."

"I hardly think a bag of chips is enough for one of us," Barry laughed, especially when one considered his enhanced metabolism thanks to the Speed Force. "Hey, tell me something. How fast can Antman fly? Can he keep up with the Flash? Wanna race?"

Scott shrugged, "I was stopping to get food, want some?" He said holding out a bag of chips.

Barry smiled gratefully at Scott's offer, his stomach grumbling in response to the tantalizing scent of the chips. "Sure, thanks," he replied, reaching out for a handful. "You should have told me you were getting food though! We could have gone to Big Belly Burger!"

"The sounds of your self-entitlement are off-putting." Wanda stepped around him to set the paperwork she'd brought up from the debrief and laid it on the desk. "I feel like I'm not the one you were waiting for, though. Good luck. I haven't been able to track anyone down all morning."

Barry blinked, caught off guard by Wanda's blunt remark. He watched her move towards the desk, her words sinking in slowly. Had he been projecting an air of superiority without even realizing it? He couldn't deny the truth in her words; perhaps he had been too focused on his own concerns, oblivious to the needs of those around him. "You're right, I was waiting for Stark. He's supposed to show me to the lab."