Steve combed through the bottles on the shelf. "I don't believe it," he muttered.

"Oh my God, just grab a freakin' bottle so we can go," Bucky grumbled. "The movie starts in twenty minutes and you know how long the light on Broad takes."

"My name is STEVE. How boring and normal can you get with STEVE?" Steve exclaimed. "I can walk into any tourist trap in the nation, nay the WORLD, and find a shot glass or plastic keychain or a bicycle license plate with my name on it, but I can't find my name on a Coke bottle at a Piggly Wiggly?"

"No one cares if you share a Coke with yourself or with…" Bucky picked up a bottle at random and read the label. "Natasha. There. Just take it. No one cares. It's a promotional stunt."

"It's the principle of the thing, Buck."

"Look, white bread, how many Tamikas are there on your novelty keychains? Not a lot. Let Tamika and Cecil and Jay-Z have their turn to shine," Bucky said, practically dragging Steve to the checkout.

"Jay-Z doesn't need his name on a Coke bottle to shine, he's luminous in his own right," Steve retorted.

"Point still stands, Whitey McWhiterson."

"Like you're one to talk."

"And yet there is not a single Bucky on any Coke bottles."

"James," Steve said.

"And only my grandmother calls me by my Christian name, thank you."

Steve rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, turning around in line as the short redhead in front of him placed her basket on the counter while the guy in front of her bagged his items. "YOU!" Steve exclaimed as she took out a Coke bottle clearly labeled "Share a Coke with Steve". "YOU took the last Steve!"

The redhead looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "I just grabbed one off the shelf, dude."

"Your name isn't Steve, though!" He paused for a moment. "Isn't it?"

Bucky was audibly sighing behind him, and the redhead looked ready to join him. "No, but it's not a big deal. It's a dumb promotional stunt."

"Thank you," Bucky said.

Steve felt betrayed on all sides. "Look, I'm aware this isn't the best hill to die on, but I will defend this stupid hill until someone slays me. I will trade you for the Steve bottle, or so help me this guy will never hear the end of it," he pointed behind him at Bucky.

The redhead raised both eyebrows. "Is it worth it?" She asked Bucky.

"If only to shut him up…"

She smirked. "I'm feeling generous today."

"Thank you. Here," he offered his bottle out, and she made a noise of surprise. "What?"

She looked up at him. "You have my name."

Bucky swore. Steve gaped. "You're kidding me."

The redhead reached into her back pocket and brought out a card holder, flipping it open to reveal her ID. "Natasha Romanoff."

"Steve Rogers," he said, a little breathless.

Bucky clapped them both on the shoulders, making sure to use his prosthetic arm on Steve because it tended to freak people out when they weren't expecting it. "By the power vested in me by the state of North Carolina and promotional stunts by major corporations everywhere, it is decreed that you both must share your Cokes with one another. But after the movie, because we already bought tickets and we're going to be so late if you don't move your asses."

"And you're holding up my line," the cashier drawled, because it had been a few minutes.

"And we're holding up this nice young man's line."

Natasha shrugged, giving the cashier her basket. "Fine by me."

She took a scrap of paper out of her pocket and scribbled something on it. "Provided you aren't a serial killer, call me when you want to share," she said, her voice low as she gave it to Steve with a wink.

She paid and took her bags. "See you around, Steve Rogers."

Steve raised his hand dazedly in farewell, handing his bottle over and two dollars. "Wait, that means I can't bring this in to the theater!"

Bucky chuckled, slinging his good arm around Steve's shoulders as they left. "See, fate's a funny thing, pal. You try to cheat a movie theater out of charging you eight bucks for a pop, and you wind up with a date and still having to pay eight bucks for a pop."