"Here's to alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems."
~ Homer Simpson
Steve and the Worst Best Friend Ever
If anyone asked Steve, he would tell them that every person he knew was out to get him. It wasn't a collaboration - or at least he didn't think it was - but everyone was desperately trying to get him out into the modern world. The one with the highest success rate was Harry, mostly because Steve had initially thought that he needed to get out more and had obligingly traipsed around New York with him, looking for interesting things to do. On finding out that he'd assumed wrong, they'd continued with their outings; it had become tradition and - dare Steve say it - routine to go out somewhere weird with Harry and let him show Steve what had changed in his city since he'd been asleep.
In line with this, Harry had been slowly introducing Steve to new and interesting foods as part of his very own "get the man into the modern world" scheme. So far, it had been working. He avoided things that were too out there - like bugs or eyes or certain... interesting parts of anatomy - and in that way managed to make Steve eat an every growing selection of weird things at ever weirder places. Because honestly, no one could survive on hot dogs and cheeseburgers forever.
For right now, though, they were trying something at Steve's request - something sort of normal, which sort of disappointed Harry. They sat in a restaurant where the meat was delivered on a hot rock - a really hot rock - and which you then cooked yourself. It was an interesting concept, but it was all steak to Harry, in the end.
"I like the idea," Steve informed him, smiling as the rock and slab of cow were placed before him, "I'm not picky, but being able to cook stuff myself makes me feel better about eating in restaurants."
"So paranoid," Harry muttered, picking up his fork and absolutely massive steak knife, "Bon appetite, and all that," he said, before starting to cut his own meat into smaller pieces for easier cooking.
They chattered idly; occasionally someone would come up and ask Steve for an autograph, but for the most part their dinner passed with the calm that tended to settle over them when they were doing almost anything.
Then; "OW! Gods damn it!"
Harry's head shot up, concerned; "You alright, Steve?"
"Yeah; burned myself on the rock when I wasn't paying attention. It'll heal soon enough."
"And that was reason enough to swear to the gods?" Harry laughed, and Steve looked offended.
"There's only one god, the rest are just the things you use to sell drinks," he said, somewhat haughtily, and Harry snorted.
"It certainly sounded like there were more of them just then, what with the way you were vehemently swearing to a few."
"It's obviously something I picked up from you."
"You really shouldn't swear or pray to multiples if you don't really mean it, Steve," Harry warned him, completely serious beneath the humour, "Sometimes they answer, and it's often unpleasant when they realise you were just kidding."
"There's only one god," Steve repeated with a frown.
"There's only one patron god of this planet, maybe," Harry conceded, "But he's not the only one in the universe. And the other ones might not be so friendly. Case and point; Loki."
Steve sat and thought about this, his meat burning on the hot rock, until Harry snickered at something he'd thought of.
"What's so funny?"
Harry pulled out his phone in response and started tapping; "I just remembered this thing I saw on the net, and it made me laugh."
Shortly after, a slightly off-colour screen was shoved in his face and Steve was somewhat surprised to see Tony, himself and the Hulk, all with different captions regarding their religious status.
"Met two gods, still an atheist," Steve read aloud, "Met two gods, still a Christian. Met two gods-" Steve snorted, "- beat the shit out of both of them. Wait, how do they know that?"
"Are you kidding? The only people on the planet with such a good photo of the Hulk have to be Tony and SHIELD, so it's either Tony being a shmuck or one of their agents slacking off during work."
Steve suddenly remembered the man who had been playing the game called "Galaga" before the Battle and narrowed his eyes. He was going to have to talk to Fury about that.
"Anyway, hurry up and finish; I have a meeting tomorrow and I want to go have a nice long old man sleep beforehand."
Steve raised an eyebrow, "I thought you said, and I quote, "I don't do meetings"."
"Which is code for I'm going to lunch with Aunty P," Harry grinned in response, eyes flickering over to a nearby booth. Inside said booth, five Avengers were crammed, trying to look inconspicuous.
Steve narrowed his eyes; never mind Fury, he was going to have to have a chat with his team.
"Well, then, we'd best get you home for your old man nap," he bit out.
"Now kiss him!" Clint suddenly yelled, making the rest of the restaurant hush, before his mouth found itself full of Natasha's elbow.
Steve flushed with both embarrassment and anger, and Harry rolled his eyes; "Despite whatever strange fantasies you have running around your sick mind, Clint, neither Steve or I are gay."
"So, team," Steve said brightly, standing, and all eyes in the restaurant snapped to him, "I think it's about time we inspected Clint's room. Oh, and the ventilation system too. What do you say?"
"No!" Clint cried, horrified, "No, please! Noooo!" Unfortunately for him, his teammates had all decided that his wrath was far less unpleasant than Steve's and stood up. Thor grabbed Clint, who was attempting to climb over the table and make a bid for the door, and they marched out of the door like Steve had given them express orders to do so. The rest of the patrons could only watch as the Avengers acted like (somewhat) normal people, as opposed of the pillars of integrity and goodness that they were supposed to be.
"Well, this was a fun evening," Harry said to no one in particular as he followed Steve to the door.
Steve smiled, "Goodnight, Harry."
"Oh, I think yours will be better," he replied, watching Thor attempt to keep Clint from wriggling out of his hold.
Steve's smile turned somewhat wicked, "Yes, it probably will."
"Okay, so today we're going to try getting you caught up on some more modern culture," Tony informed Steve, flanked on either side by Clint and Bruce, who were smirking and smiling, respectively. Steve knew that Clint was in this for revenge, and resolved to have his "nest" cleared monthly in retaliation.
"Do we have to?" he asked from where he sat at the dining table, despite being already resigned, "I was hoping to just sit here and fill out paperwork."
"Nope, we're going out," Tony told him, making a shooing motion, "Go get a jacket, it's getting colder outside this time of year."
Steve sighed, "Alright. Do I get to know where we're going?"
"Nope," Clint grinned evilly, "All you need to know is that it will be good for your re-education."
Steve did not like what he saw in those eyes, and the fact that Bruce's face was slightly mirroring that mischief only made his guard come up more.
He made his way to his room with deliberate slowness, trying to take as long as possible without arousing suspicion and texting Harry as he went.
Across town, Harry and Pepper were meeting up for lunch, as was their custom, when he got a string of texts one after the other.
"'Scuse me, Pepper, I should probably look at this," he apologised, pulling out a phone that was on its last legs - it was about time he got a new one.
"No problem," she waved it off, and he looked at the messages.
"I think Tony's about to try some sort of new torture technique on Steve," he informed her, garnering an amused smile, "Listen to this: "SOS, stop. Tony, Clint and Bruce on the warpath, stop. Requesting immediate aid, stop.""
"Does he really write "stop"?" Pepper asked, laughter in her eyes.
"He's a bit of a smart-arse," Harry admitted with a shrug and Pepper's smile widened.
"He's so different with you than he is with Tony; all I ever hear from him is how up-tight and boring he is."
Harry grinned; "And here's the next few: "Objective of assault is to ingratiate the modern world to me, stop. Would appreciate backup, if available, stop.""
"How much credit is he wasting?" Pepper wondered idly.
"The man has seventy years of savings piled up in the bank, he'll be fine," Harry assured her, reading the last two texts so far, ""Will inform of location on arrival, stop. FOR GOD'S SAKE, HARRY HELP ME, stop." Huh, he used caps lock."
"Are you going to go help him?"
Harry snorted, "No, let him stew for a while. I'll go save him if they decide to take him to a strip club or something; that would probably break his poor old-fashioned brain. You going to finish that salad? I'm still kind of hungry."
Back with the superheroes, Steve was still hoping that this outing wouldn't turn out too badly. Unfortunately he was travelling with the wrong crowd if that was what he wanted.
"First thing's first," Tony said as they got out of his limo, attracting the attention of everyone within a half a mile radius, "we are going to make you like modern music, whether you want to or not."
"Here's something modern for you," Steve said as he dug his heels in, fighting as all three of his teammates started pulling on his arms, "Do not want!"
"Harry's teaching you well," Tony grunted as he started trying to push him from behind, "but you are going to listen to AC/DC or Black Sabbath-"
"Or Guns N' Roses," Clint added.
"Yeah, or even newer stuff like Breaking Benjamin, which I personally think is all whine but the kids love that shit-"
"Led Zeppelin," Clint said again.
"Weezer."
"Van Halen, Green Day."
"Foo Fighters!"
"Bob Sinclar," Bruce put in, and Tony shot him a look.
"We're trying to make him like rock, not hippy love crap."
"Bob Sinclar is a great artist!" Bruce defended.
By now, people were recording everything that was happening on their various devices, some were probably streaming live to the web and Steve was desperately wishing that Tony hadn't brought the limo.
"Yeah, for you. You need the relaxation; Steve needs to get more riled up about stuff. What's better for that than a bunch of people screaming their heads off at each other on stage?"
Steve sighed and twisted his hands to grab both Bruce and Clint by the arms; "Can we just go inside now, please?"
Tony glanced around and laughed, "Okay, we can argue about this later. Into the store!"
Harry and Pepper were now walking through Central Park discussing the possibilities of setting up a fundraising event for the Avengers.
"I know that Tony has more money than god, but he doesn't want to spend it all on the Avengers; it's not something that brings in its own profit, so he can't pour money into it like he could with the suit or his other gadgets," she informed him passionately. Harry wondered how the hell the suit was earning him money, but smiled anyway.
"I understand; it's why I don't invest in anything I don't feel I can trust, as you well know," he told her, "I'd be happy to supply drinks, by the way. I'm thinking about releasing a line of pre-mixed drinks, so it'll be a good way to see if there's a market for them."
"That would be wonderful," she smiled, "You'll probably be invited, though, so you can't be the one serving them."
"Eh, it's not too hard to tell someone how much of something to pour into a glass."
A few people walking by were laughing and pointing at something on someone's camera, and Harry caught the words, "never seen the Cap so scared before". He turned to Pepper, who had obviously heard the same, before glancing ahead. All the people laughing and pointing at what had to be pictures were coming from that direction. Harry and Pepper simultaneously turned to walk away from wherever the Avengers were torturing their leader.
"Okay, next," Tony said, waving an arm in the air as if revealing something amazing - Steve thought that he'd never seen so much of Howard in the man until that moment, "we are going to get your arse in something that doesn't look like you're planning to work out in it. Every day. All the time."
"What? Why?" Steve asked, affronted, "I like being comfortable!"
"Yeah, but even after living in enforced poverty for the better part of six years, Bruce still had better clothes than you do, and you have a bank account the size of New Jersey."
Steve snorted; "If mine is the size of New Jersey, what does your look like?"
"Probably about the size of Eurasia, with most of Africa and a bit of Newfoundland thrown in. We're getting off topic; you need new clothes and we are going to have them tailored so that the women of the world can swoon over you no matter what you happen to be doing at the time, be it running, eating or saving the world in spandex."
"Who's to say I won't just keep wearing my old clothes anyway?"
"Every piece of cloth in your room that doesn't have some sort of sentimental value is going to be burned."
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Clint whispered in his ear, "He said in your room. Leave some of it in a safe deposit box somewhere if you're that attached to it."
Steve wondered if that was why Clint's room had been relatively clean the night before - he was storing everything in a bank somewhere. He placed the thought aside for later use and nodded his resignation. "Fine, let's go then."
Harry laughed when he opened the internet on his home laptop and saw that "Captain America" was trending on Twitter.
"Captain America," read one post, "now in three flavours; hot, hotter and on fire!" Attached was a link to a photo of Steve, surrounded by his three captors, wearing what looked like an Armani suit.
"Oh you poor man," Harry laughed at his friend's predicament.
Then he saved the photo and emailed it to Teddy.
From the back of the classroom came an inordinately loud snort and the teacher sent the boy who had made the noise - Potter, his name was - a disapproving frown.
When they left for lunch, Alex turned to his best friend and asked, "What the hell were you looking at to make you laugh like that?"
"Oh my god," Teddy laughed, pulling out his phone, "My dad sent me this photo of St- Captain America. Apparently the rest of the Avengers are making him go shopping. Look! Look at how horrified he is by his own reflection!"
Alex couldn't help but laugh - the icon of America looked like he was about ready to bolt.
"Where did your dad get this photo?"
"Twitter, apparently. And now I am going to put it on Tumblr."
"Send it to me, too?"
By the end of the day, once Steve's old clothes had been farewelled in a bonfire on top of the tower and the fire marshal had been bribed into ignoring it, the first Avenger was completely exhausted.
He sat heavily on the edge of his bed and wondered who he'd angered to deserve such punishment. Maybe Harry had been right when he'd said that swearing to gods without meaning it pissed them off.
"Sorry!" he whispered to the ceiling. On receiving no reply, he flopped back onto the bed and sighed.
"Why so glum?" someone asked from the door, and Steve raised his head to look at Harry.
"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, confused, before sitting up; "Shouldn't you be running the bar?"
"Meh. I wanted to ask how you were surviving. Twitter tells me that you had a rough day."
"Twitter... is the one with the short and mostly stupid posts, right?"
Harry grinned, "Photos too," he said, pulling his phone out, "You and your arse were trending all day."
"Wait, what?"
"Yup, have a look."
Steve scrolled through the posts, getting paler with each one (especially the ones where Clint had demanded that he try on tight-fitting clothes for "gym work"). Comments about how good he looked abounded, and he was somewhat stunned by how forward some people were.
"You obviously had quite the day, Steve," Harry told him eventually, taking the phone away from him.
"You seriously just came up here to see me?" Steve asked, a little sceptically.
"Of course not; I promised Thor a rematch at Mario Kart. Apparently he's been practicing," he replied with a smug grin, "Not that it'll help. He sucks."
"In that case-"
Harry gave him the look that only a father could manage - one that said "I will lock you in your room for a week if you don't cooperate".
"- I'll stay here and take an old man nap," he finished weakly.
"Good. I expect to see you tomorrow, so don't wear yourself out on my behalf now. I like you better when you're a functional human being and not a robot."
"Yes sir," Steve mock saluted, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Night then, Captain."
Steve grunted and flopped back on the bed, and Harry laughed.
"You are the worst best friend ever!" Steve called as he started to close the door, and Harry smiled at the warm feeling he got from being called "best friend".
"Right then," he said as he walked into the room that held Thor, Tony and Natasha and pulled a bottle out of his pocket, "We are drinking and toasting to Marduk and playing Mario Kart. Any questions?"
"Who's Marduk?"
"Tony, have you ever heard of Google?"
"Why don't you love meeee?" he whined, and Harry snorted.
"Marduk is the patron god of Babylon and the god of magic. Magic which I don't have to use to take you lot down."
"Oh, bring it on, Wiz-Kid!"
"If you ever call me that again, I will hang you off the "A" of the tower, Tony."
"You really spend too much time around Steve."
On the other side of the world, in a small country in Europe, a man stared avidly at an array of screens.
On those screens were images of the same man, over and over.
A man in a black hood throwing bolts of what he knew to be magic.
He grinned.
Extra: Clint The Deviant
"You have to wonder about him, though," Tony said as they watched Clint play a sniper simulator from the bar, "The amount of cracks he makes about everyone's preferences kind of hints at denial."
"I agree, actually," Bruce said, nodding, "It's probably just him subconsciously trying to vent his sexual frustration."
"No way," Steve put in, frowning, "I'm pretty sure he's not gay."
"There's only one what to find out," Tony said solemnly, before calling out, "Hey, Clint!"
"Yeah?" the archer answered after executing a particularly gruesome headshot.
"Who was the first guy you slept with?"
"Guy named Mark," he answered easily. Steve sighed in defeat, but Bruce frowned.
"And the first girl?" he asked, drawing surprised looks from his accomplices.
"Marxene."
"Similar names, huh?" Tony said with a borderline lecherous grin.
"Twins," Clint answered, smirking broadly.
Tony wondered how he'd managed to pull that off.
Steve groaned; "He's not gay, he's just a sexual deviant."
"And proud of it," Clint teased as he saved and turned off the console, moving over to where they stood, "Though lately I haven't had much success with deviating other people."
His eyes turned slyly to Bruce, who gaped at him for a moment before going slightly green around the eyes and sprinting for the elevator.
The second the doors closed, Clint burst out laughing; "Did you see his face? He was so white he almost matched the tiles!"
"He's going to either punch you through a wall again or buy you dinner, you realise that, right?" Steve asked mildly, making Clint pale worse than Bruce had.
"What? No!" he ran towards the stairs, since the elevator was already in use, "Bruce! I was kidding! I don't want to date you, please don't buy me dinner!"
"You've become evil," Tony informed Steve once they were alone, and Steve grinned.
"I grew a sense of humour."
"Yeah, an evil one. Shawarma?"
"Sure."
AN: Oh look, something that could potentially be plot-worthy! -gasp-
Wrote this inbetween breaks while doing a biology assignment, so apologies for anything that seems kind of... off...
Stonegrill is what I based the Nameless Restaurant in scene one on, and it is the most awesome restaurant and I love it.
Also, someone asked me to make Harry officially straight so:
HARRY IS OFFICIALLY STRAIGHT IN THIS STORY.
JUST FYI.
Seriously, if Harry's ever going to be gay I will write a separate piece and it will have my HP/Avengers OTP in it. That pairing is, sadly, not Steve/Harry. Sorry loves.
Thank you all for your continued support!
~ Runaway