Work Text:
-1-
'Ask me about the orgy.' Bucky had a dozen black t-shirts that all said the same thing. Every time someone asked, he would smile his most charming smile and say, "Steve will tell you all about it."
Sometimes it was a reporter. Sometimes it was a fan. Sometimes it was a new member of the Avengers support team. Bucky would even point them in the right direction. He would help them find Steve.
After a while, it was happening at least once a day. More than once if there was a fight, because afterward, Bucky would take off his jacket and underneath he'd be wearing one of those shirts. It was false advertising, Steve thought; Bucky wasn't going to tell anyone about the orgy, he was just going to make Steve explain what he was doing with eleven other versions of himself in a two-hour porno.
So Steve waited. He waited until it was a reporter with a microphone and a cameraman. He waited until Bucky was in earshot.
"Your friend said you'd tell me about the orgy?"
Steve looked right at the camera and set his mouth and said, "All my friends are dead, sir."
-2-
Steve didn't have anything against strip clubs Actually, he really liked them. Visiting with Sharon and Natasha was one of his favorite ways to start out date night. He liked the lighting, he liked the music, he liked the girls. He really liked watching the girls dance for Natasha or Sharon (or both) in the private rooms in the back.
What he didn't like was the way Rhodey and Tony were trying to get under his skin. He didn't like the way Bucky and Sam and Clint were hiding their smirks behind their drinks as they waited for Steve to surprise Rhodey and Tony and everyone else gawking at Captain America getting his "first" lap dance.
The girl they sent over was beautiful. Of course she was--all the girls were beautiful. She'd left her top in the dressing room and her panties and garter and sky-high heels were all white. It was all show when she leaned over, back arched and shoulders parallel to the floor, and rested her arm very lightly across his shoulders.
She smiled. "Your friends bought you a lap dance," she said.
Steve smiled back at her. "All my friends are dead, ma'am," he said. "I'll buy my own lap dances."
-3-
Steve stood at the edge of the landing zone, his arms crossed tight over his chest, and he frowned in Bucky's direction. They'd had to call in the bots for backup--Doom's bot battalion had just been too much, even with the Legionnaires--and the small one had taken a lot of damage. His right arm was bare to the metal and the wires exposed in his abdomen were sparking and he was missing one of his feet. He hadn't gone down at all, and he was pissed about being damaged. Steve was keeping his distance.
Even across the LZ, there was no mistaking Bucky's obvious affection for the vicious, murderous little sexbot.
Nick came up beside him and stood, near but not too near, his hands clasped at the small of his back. Steve glanced at him, then went back to watching Bucky and the bot.
"Your friend sure likes the little bastard," Nick said. It was an invitation to talk.
Steve grunted. He didn't want to talk about Bucky or the sexbot or Bucky and the sexbot. "All my friends are dead, sir."
-4-
Sam squeezed his shoulder near his neck. "Don't look so glum, man. It's over. No one died. We won."
Steve half-smiled. "Yeah." It didn't feel like a win.
Sam rolled his eyes and dropped his hand. "You need to lighten up."
Probably Sam was right. So far in Steve's experience, Sam was always right. There was just so much destruction. No one died, but that didn't mean lives weren't destroyed. Two of the buildings AIM had crashed through were apartments over stores; homes were lost, jobs were gone, and "no one died" didn't mean "no one got hurt." He knew he'd be visiting Mount Sinai in the morning.
"Yeah," he said again. He tugged off the cowl. "Let's go meet the crowd, huh?"
Sam eyed him, and then smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go meet our adoring fans."
Steve huffed a laugh. He gestured for Sam to lead, and he trailed behind him.
They were pushed up against the barricades, dozens of people with their phones out and pens out and scraps of paper and more than a few photos and calendars. Steve started at one end and Sam started at the other, and, really, this part didn't usually take long.
He was halfway to Sam when he met a group of women. Girls, really; they looked barely old enough to be done with high school. The bravest one got shoved forward.
"Um," she said, and stuttered, "Cap-- Captain. Your friend said you'd take a picture with us?"
Steve ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down and gave her a tight smile. "All my friends are dead, ladies. Hand me your phone."
-5-
The sun was hot and the breeze was briny and, with the exception of the guy behind the bar at the cabana, the beach was deserted. It was exactly what Steve had hoped for when he'd booked.
He carried his drink back to the pair of lounges farthest away from the cabana where his book and his towel and the view off the southern coast were waiting for him. He settled in once more, shaded by the umbrella, and started in on chapter fifteen.
Halfway through, he heard it. Flip-flops on sand.
Then, Nick's voice. "Where the hell are your friends, Captain? It's no fun to vacation alone."
Steve glanced over in time to see Nick straddle the empty lounge closest to him and smile that big shit-eating smile.
"All my friends are dead, sir. I have to do everything alone."