(Thanks to alleycat16 for beta!)
Steve dipped a fry in ketchup, swirling it around the plate for a moment before popping it in his mouth. They were cold by now, but still nice and salty, and Steve had no desire to go anywhere else. He was on his third beer, but he didn’t even have a buzz. That would take much, much more, and need to be much, much faster than the slow nurse he’d managed over the last two hours.
The bar was loud enough that he couldn’t hear himself think, but not so busy that he was likely to be recognized or bothered, and it was mostly the university crowd who were so drunk by now that they wouldn’t care if they did recognize him. Steve tugged his phone out of his pocket and checked it pointlessly. No one was trying to get a hold of him; there weren’t many people who would, even if he weren’t on day four of his mandatory fourteen-day paid vacation from SHIELD.
Then he heard his name and his attention locked in on the group of students one booth over who had been laughing and chatting for a long time, plowing their way through beer and appetizers.
“What about Captain America, then? Is he on your list?” one of them asked.
“Of course he’s on my fucking list,” another replied. “What idiot doesn’t have Captain America on their list? And not just cause he’s hot as fuck, but because he lives here so you might actually have a shot.”
“He lives in Brooklyn, you idiot. Everyone knows that.”
“He has a place here in Boston, too, idiot. I read it in US Weekly. He uses it to get away from it all.”
“Clint, you do not read US Weekly,” insisted a woman’s voice.
“It was at the grocery store checkout and the lady in front of me had like seven hundred lemons loose on the belt and the poor cashier had to weigh them one by one so I had a lot of time to kill.”
“Anyway,” the first voice went on, “this isn’t a discussion about where Cap lives, it’s about whether you’d fuck him or not.”
Steve almost choked on his next fry and had to cough silently for a moment, trying to clear his windpipe. He chugged down a few mouthfuls of beer and pulled his hat further down over his eyes. He was blatantly eavesdropping now.
“Rhodey, most of us are single, so why would we even need a list of freebies? If I meet Captain America, I am free to fuck him, no list required.”
“So what you’re saying, Pep, is that you would?”
“Of course I would, who wouldn’t?”
“That’s my point.” There was a smack of Rhodey’s hand hitting the table. “He’s on everyone’s list.” There was general murmuring and laughter. “Nat - you’d fuck Cap, right?”
“Clint said yes, Pep said yes - Scott?”
There was a pause then Steve saw a mess of dark brown curls appear over the back of the bench seat as someone straightened up. “Nope.”
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