A/N: This was really pointless but really fun.

A/N: I really should be preparing for my persuasive Civil Rights speech. *sighs* Oh well, this was worth it. Another shout-out to KCN Chen. And to Granny. If she can see this.

Tony patiently tried to explain to Steve how to hold chopsticks. It was hard, trying to get a man with almost unlimited strength to grip two delicate wooden sticks between his fingers.

"No, Cap, don't squeeze so—ow, OW, OW, THAT'S MY FINGER DAMMIT, okay, just gently hold it—Steve, it's just like a pen. Just like a pen. You're sketching." Steve's forehead glistened with sweat as he tried he tensed up when Tony slipped yet another pair into his large hands. A growing pile of splinters sat in between them. Clint and Natasha were doodling on napkins, while Bruce took notes on Thor's account of the now defunct Bifrost. Steve's hand trembled for a moment, but the chopsticks didn't snap, or fly out of his hand, or do much of anything. Just sat there and looked dangerous. Both breathed sighs of relief, and Steve gingerly manipulated the chopsticks.

"Hey, this is pretty easy. Thanks, Tony."

"Yeah. I'm hungry," he whined. Tony liked to whine. He whined constantly. Whine, whine, whine. Whine.

It was a noodle shop, nestled in the heart of Manhattan's Chinatown. Tony had planned for sushi, but couldn't find anything that wasn't tainted by trendy graphics and avant-garde wallpaper designs; it reminded him too much of Pepper. The entire troupe managed to squeeze into a booth; Natasha and Clint sat in the inner-most seats, with Bruce and Thor right next to them, followed by Steve and Tony, respectively. Tony swept the broken chopsticks into his hand and tossed them into a wastebasket located close nearby, and began playing with his phone. He loved that phone. Well, he had designed it, of course, but still, it was a pretty amazing phone. He checked the stocks, news, and voicemail, and slipped it back into his pocket. It was nice today; not freezing, but not warm either. Crisp September weather. Everyone was dressed lightly, but Steve insisted that everyone bring a jacket as well. Steve wore a faded green cardigan over a t-shirt, and big, black glasses. Tony stared. Steve had perfect vision. Why did he need glasses? Hazel on black. Black on blue.

Steve scanned the shop, taking in his surroundings. Back in his day, most people in his neighborhood were white. One of his textbooks talked about the lifting of the Chinese Exclusion Act, but he still looked at the bustling international district with wonder. So much diversity, so much tolerance. Well, that was until he heard the racial slurs.

"Why are you wearing glasses?"

"What?" Tony's remark dragged him back to reality. "Oh, she said that I would look good in them." Steve tilted his head towards Natasha. Tony studied his glasses, and raised his eyebrows.

"Good pick, Tash."

"I try." She sipped her coffee. That woman thrives off coffee, much the way the Starks did. Steve remembered that Howard had to have it, regardless of the time of day.

A waitress maneuvered between the closely spaced tables to come take their order. It was busy today, and they had had to wait for at least ten minutes, it seemed. Her eyes were defeated, grown used to the daily grind. It must be horribly abrasive, standing around all day, listening to others give her orders, and then leave without a single word of thanks. She brushed back a stray strand of hair while jotting down what they wanted. Tony ordered for Thor. He didn't trust him talking in public yet. The waitress looked up, saw Steve staring at her, and smiled thinly, before turning around to drop off their order. Tony was playing with his phone again, Thor was arm-wrestling Clint and seemed to be losing, while Natasha and Bruce made small talk with each other, a little iciness still between them from the Helicarrier drama. Steve observed the scene again. A small man, reading the newspaper and loudly slurping up noodles in the booth in front of Steve. A young couple, chatting casually, food ignored, with their faces growing closer and closer with each sentence. Steve looked away for decency's sake when they kissed. A booth behind them, two men were conversing quietly on deep topics, and Steve listened to them for a while before getting bored. There were others, but he didn't want to infringe on any privacy, though he could hear them perfectly from where he was. Tony was still playing with his phone, absentmindedly rubbing the stubble on his chin. He lost his distinctive goatee a few weeks ago, when the drinking stuff started happening. Steve missed it.

"I miss your goatee."

"Sorry?"

"Your goatee." Steve pointed to Tony's chin. "It disappeared after you went AWOL."

"Mm, I'm thinking of changing styles. It's a little old."

"No, don't."

"Why?"

Steve floundered for words.

"I don't—know, just—okay, it just looks—I don't know, it just makes you, well, you." Tony scoffed and shook his head, a gentle smirk on his mouth. Not harsh, gentle.

"Fine, for your sake, Capsicle. Maybe I'll shave you, too, and we pretend we're related." Steve looked at Tony in surprise. "What?"

"You shaved your own goatee?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, it just seemed that you weren't the kind of person to—"

"What, do anything? Steve, I'm rich, not useless. There's a distinction, but more and more people seem to equate the two." Tony rolled his eyes and went back to his phone, shutting Steve out again. Steve heard a loud thud and loud protests, and most everyone in the restaurant turned to look at their table. Thor was upset that he lost. Steve glared at him until he shut up and Clint smiled gloatingly. Steve stared at him two until he wiped that superior smile off his face. Bruce tapped him docilely on the shoulder.

"Cap, bathroom."

"Oh, yeah, sure." He shuffled out awkwardly, bumping into the side table to let Banner pass by. He was dressed…normally today, much unlike the mismatched garb he usually donned. Jeans, a sweater, a beanie on his head and frameless glasses. Steve filed the outfit away for future use. The tired waitress came back, holding a huge tray loaded with bowls of steaming soup. Everyone inhaled the aromatic and mouth-watering scent, and watched eagerly as she softly passed out the orders, remembering who's who. Steve made eye contact with her again as she handed him his soup, and she smiled shyly again. Not a bad looking…not dame, chick, as Tony calls them.

"Cute ass." Steve looked in surprise at the person who said that.

"What?"

"Well, she has a nice ass. But I think mine's a little better." Natasha shrugged at Steve's bewildered look. "She has a nice butt, I'll admit it. What? I'm not bisexual or anything. You see it, you call it, that's how it works these days."

"Maybe in commie country, but not here."

"Then what about Tony?"

"What about me?"

"You were commenting on Steve's ass two weeks ago?"

"Oh yeah, his ass. Nice butt there, Cap." Tony went back to his phone. Steve sank a little lower in his seat and felt the red creeping into his face. And his ass.

Bruce walked back and Steve got up, being careful to keep his front faced towards Tony, decided that that would be awkward, so he turned his side, labeled that as even more awkward, and sat back down. Bruce and Thor exchanged glances while everyone else chuckled.

"Steve, just get up, don't be self-conscious," Clint chirped. Steve felt himself blushing again, and stood up to let Banner through. He sat back down when Bruce had slid into his seat. Clint looked thoughtfully at Steve. "You were right, his ass is pretty nice."

"Shut up or I'll hit you."

"Whoa there, Cap, no need to get defensive," Clint quickly backtracked. He was amazingly skilled at hand to hand combat, but no match for Steve's superior reflexes or strength. Tony looked up, set down the phone and slid it across the table.

"Here, for you. It's my apology for acting all icky for the past two weeks."

"Hey, we had to put up with you, too, I want one!" Tony handed a thin slice of glass to Clint.

"He gets one, I get one." Natasha gestured for Tony to hand him one. Tony reached into his bag and pulled out two more, one for Natasha, and another for Banner. Banner refused politely, and Tony offered it to Thor instead, who accepted it graciously and jabbed at it hard, trying to imitate what he had seen Tony do countless times. And failing. Tony probably planned to give them all phones sometime soon, anyway; might as well be now.

"Newest model of StarkPhone. Redesigned completely. Enjoy."

Err, Steve surreptitiously glanced at the spies, who were nodding appreciatively at the phone's many capabilities. Thor brought the glass up to the light and squinted, trying to make sense out of it. Bruce sighed and began to teach him how to use it.

Tony just stared at Steve. Steve stared helplessly at Tony and shrugged, setting the phone back on the table. Tony shoved it back towards him. "Just tap it. It's pretty intuitive from that point on."

Steve tapped it. A small glowing box appeared with text scrolling across it. Welcome, Captain Steve Rogers. This is your personalized StarkPhone, complete with access to the JARVIS mainframe. You have a nice ass.

Steve glared at Tony. He better have medical insurance.