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The good part of being an Avenger is that the gig isn't non-stop Avenging. They aren't all constantly fighting, even as they seek out Hydra cells and plan those attacks. There's a lot of community work, too, and Steve enjoys it. Sometimes it's visiting sick kids in hospitals, and it's also a lot of visiting schools. Steve tries to do a lot of site preservation work in Brooklyn, too. He sometimes gets summoned to pose with Senators or Representatives, and he tries to be just annoying enough to limit those calls to the people whose goals he actually supports.
On occasion, someone calls on the power of Tony Stark to get a large group together, and those assignments all come directly from Pepper via email. The only problem with that is—while he absolutely knows how to use email—Steve still often forgets to check it, and that sometimes gets him into trouble.
Like today, as he's being handed a new suit.
"I'm... I can't do this." He makes a face at the suit and turns away from it, giving Pepper a determined look.
Her face, in return, is unimpressed. "Captain Rogers, I'm afraid there really isn't an option not to attend today."
Steve shakes his head and uncrosses his arms, trying to seem softer, more worthy of sympathy for his plight. "It's not something I can put my name to, ma'am." He softens his tone and adds, "I'm sorry."
Pepper releases a frustrated sigh that Steve suspects she perfected on Tony. "Steve. Please. You're sort of the lynchpin here." She steps closer and lowers her voice. "They want you even more than they want Tony."
Steve is, by personal law, not allowed to be pleased by that. It's difficult.
"Do they really know who they're getting if I show up, though?"
"Captain America?" She looks at him like he's lost his mind. "Steve..."
He closes his eyes, and accepts that he's going to have to explain this. "Pepper. I was a Brooklyn Dodger fan growing up. Well. The Robins, then they became the Dodgers. Either way, Brooklyn. Do you know who our most hated rival was?"
Pepper sighs, drops her chin as she looks at the floor. "The Yankees."
Steve nods. "Yes, the Yankees. In the Bronx. But they named themselves for the whole damn city!" He takes a deep breath. "Look, I had a hard enough time dealing with the fact that while I was under the ice, they up and moved to"— he sneers—"Los Angeles. But I can't be supporting the Yankees. And I really can't put that on my body." He points back to the suit, which is a mockery of his morals in white and navy pinstripes.
To Steve, this is a no-brainer. If he'd been a Boston fan, he's sure no one would even question him, but no one understands, anymore, how terrible this would be for him.
But Bucky would have understood, and right now he feels a pang of loss for the man that is deeper than every pang he's felt before. Bucky would have fought by his side on this topic as hard as he'd fought on the battlefield. They discovered baseball together, spending whole summer days outside Ebbets Field to listen to the speakers from inside, playing some stickball in the streets nearby, pretending to be their favorite players. Every so often they had money for tickets, and Steve would be passed out by the end of the day, full of peanuts and cotton candy, throat sore from root, root, rooting for the home team.
Which was the Dodgers. Or the Robins, depending on the year. Not important.
He remembers when the radio broadcasts had started; he thinks back to days laid up sick in their apartment and listening to the game, Bucky rushing home at lunch or after work to catch whatever was left in the game.
He remembers one night, the game went to extra innings. They were tired from a long day of work, and Bucky moved the radio into the bedroom so they could listen from bed. Bucky had curled into bed with him, around him, dropping small kisses on the back of Steve's neck to keep him awake and listening.
Bucky had loved the Dodgers almost as much as he'd loved Steve. Some days, Bucky would tease, it was more. And he hated the Yankees almost as much as he'd hated the Nazis.
He watches Pepper's eyes as she considers his stance, both his moral stance and the actual way he stands before her, and finally she sighs and nods. "All right. I'll apologize, say another urgent matter came up that required your assistance. Somewhere out of the country so no one panics and goes to the news."
Steve feels his whole body relax, and he smiles at her. "Thank you, Pepper. I really appreciate that. And I'll lay low for a few days, make it look like I was gone for real."
She shakes her head, fond and exasperated. "You should take a few days off. Go visit somewhere so you've always wanted to see when, you know, things aren't a disaster." She pats his arm and moves on to start wrangling the rest of this motley crew of heroes.
He hopes, for her sake, that none of them have strong baseball loyalties.