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Language:
English
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Published:
2014-07-01
Completed:
2014-07-02
Words:
1,231
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
24
Kudos:
389
Bookmarks:
48
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2,465

Artifact of History

Summary:

Steve Rogers never had a barbershop quartet. When Natasha asked him that, he just made it up, because he got into a habit of lying about his past.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It all started at the shawarma place in New York. The television was on in the background and they were showing a basketball game. “Huh,” he said, “Funny that there are so many black basketball players.”

The reaction was immediate and unexpected. Bruce started explaining the challenges of inner city youth and their lack of access to sports facilities. Tony made a snide comment about the great Captain America, racist old fart. Clint tried to defend him by saying that basketball wasn’t even around back then, and everyone else tried not to look at him.

Steve thought about explaining that he knows basketball perfectly well, that Bucky used to play basketball with the other Jewish kids down the street, that he of all people understood the “challenges of inner-city youth,” it’s just that the inner city youth were mostly Irish and Jewish at the time. But seeing those looks of pity and judgment, he realized that it’s pointless. So he sat back and let the others explain discrimination and basketball to him.

They thought they knew his world, through Hollywood movies and high school history textbooks and, ironically, propaganda posters starring Captain America. And so they make jokes about “Loose Lips Sink Ships” and the New Deal and how he’s probably never seen a woman wearing pants until now. They listen when Thor explains things about Asgard, but when Steve tries to say that he’s seen plenty of women in pants (they wear pants when they go bicycling, or in the factories), but had never seen a black man in a position of power like Nick Fury, they just don’t understand.

So he just started making things up.

When Tony teased him about picking out the right tomatoes at the grocery store, he said “I want ones as good as what I grew in my Victory Garden,” never mind that a city boy like him never had a victory garden. He’d hoped that Tony, with his whip-sharp intellect and healthy dose of skepticism, would call his bluff. Then he could have told Tony about running the best scrap metal drive in Brooklyn, and about the tomato seeds that Howard collected in Europe. But instead Tony just laughed and told JARVIS to make a note about flying in some organic tomatoes for “ol’ Capsicle.”

When Bruce asked him about the Great Depression he makes up a story about working for the Civilian Conservation Corps. He’d hoped that Bruce, with his professorial knowledge, would question his participation as 15-year-old. Then he could have told Bruce about Eddie down the hall who joined the Communist party, and then left to go to the Soviet Union in 1934, and maybe they can find out what happened to to Eddie and all the others. Instead Bruce just nodded and asked about the Tennessee Valley project.

 

When Natasha asked him about his social life, he made up something about a barbershop quartet, never mind that his mother never liked “that minstrel stuff.” He’d hoped that Natasha, so good at detecting lies, would roll her eyes and say, “With that scrawny pre-serum body? Could you even sing?” Then he could have told her that no, not as a kid. And that he never really had a friend besides Bucky, and Bucky liked swing, so he’d get dragged to so many dance halls where he’d sit in the corner and sketch while Bucky danced with all the girls. That was usually the closest he got to a fun night out. Instead, she just shrugged and said, “What about that nurse from across the hall?”

So Steve kept lying, in the hopes that one day someone would know him well enough to call his bluff.

————————-

(Too bad Bucky died on that train 70 years ago.)

Chapter 2: Pancakes for Breakfast

Summary:

A sort-of sequel, where Sam makes breakfast with Steve.

Chapter Text

"Oh crap." Some of the batter spilled on the floor just as the pancakes needed flipping. "Steve, can you wipe that with a paper towel?" Sam turned back to the pancakes. One of this favorite parts of having a new running buddy is getting to make breakfast for someone afterwards. He likes feeding people, especially superheroes who sit awkwardly in his kitchen behaving like a normal awkward guy instead of some motherfuckin’ legend.

"The … paper towel?"

"Yeah buddy, on the table over there." Sam briefly registered Steve stooping to clean up the batter, and then spending a long time washing his hands. It wasn’t until he turned around with a plate full of pancakes that he caught Steve holding up a damp (but clean) paper towel.

"The paper towel. I’ve rinsed it. Where should I hang it?"

Sam’s not quite sure how to respond. “Steve…. I usually just throw those away.”

"Oh." Sam could see Steve trying to recover, pretend that’s what he meant to do all along. "Of course." Steve looked like he was tossing a five dollar bill in the trash, and not just a paper towel.

Sam handed him the plate of pancakes and had enough experience with this sort of thing to let Steve think for a bit as they ate.

"So you can just throw paper away…" Steve started, but then stopped.

"Yeah, it’s always the little things, isn’t it?" Sam said between bites. "When I first got back I swear I spent a whole day just in the grocery store, looking at people buying food." Steve looked guilty, in a way that only Steve could about skulking around the frozen food aisle, so Sam changed the subject.

"I’m surprised it’s taken you this long — don’t you use paper towels to dry your hands in the SHIELD bathrooms?" Then, thinking back to his grandma, he clapped his thigh excitedly, "You’ve got handkerchiefs, don’t you? Come on, show me."

With some chagrin, Steve pulled out of his pocket a neatly folded and ironed handkerchief, with the letters “S. Rogers” simply and precisely stitched in one corner. “I guess I don’t need this anymore, huh.”

"Nah, it’s fine, man. My grandma still does this stuff. Saves all the soap slivers to mush into a new soap… thing. Ties old socks into a mop. Living through the Depression does that to people." Sam continued, "Besides,that’s way more environmental. Maybe I should be the one using fewer paper towels. So do you wash those by hand?"

"Of course. We old folks didn’t have washing machines during the war." There was something weird about Steve’s smile when he said that.

Sam thought about the thousands of crisp clean uniforms in all those war propaganda films. No way all that was done by hand. “Bullshit, I’m sure you had washing machines back then. If not you, at least the army. It was the 1940s, not the 1800s.” What was Steve trying to pull?

Steve gave him a look. Sam held his gaze and chewed his mouthful of pancake with slow deliberation. Sam is very good at awkward yet earnest staring contests.

Steve broke his gaze and got up to get more pancakes. “Actually, Bucky’s family had a washing machine — they could afford one. After, mom, well, passed away, he would use that as an excuse for me to visit him more often, but I preferred doing things myself, so…” The way Steve was talking, It was as if Sam had passed some secret friend test.

"Hey, you want some sausages to go with that?" Sam loved feeding people, and this breakfast was far from over.