I’m thinking of an Identity Porn AU where Steve came out of the ice, looked at SHIELD for two seconds, then went “nah” and fucked off to go be Nomad. He’s still Captain America sometimes, when he needs to be, but most people think he’s a phony, so he sticks to the Nomad costume for most things, including interacting with the Avengers (the only one of whom he can identify is Natasha, and who immediately clocks him because “you’re built like Cool Ranch, Steve.”).
Of course, because he has rapport with Natasha, he follows her on Twitter, and right now she’s in a battle with someone whose handle is simply “TheMechanic,” but whose name is “NomadRawMeChallenge.”
“You really need to learn how to be appropriate on the internet,” Natasha had tweeted.
“What I really need is Nomad to raw me until I’m too dick-stupid to tweet,” TheMechanic had replied.
And, well, Steve is just a man, okay? He thinks it’s funny that TheMechanic has a tweet chain fifty-seven tweets long that’s just an ode to the deep V of his costume, or the obviously drunken ramblings of how he’d been an equestrian when he was younger so he could absolutely “ride Nomad hard enough his eyes fucking cross under that dumb domino mask.” Sometimes Natasha begs him to filter himself and TheMechanic belligerently asks her if she thinks his ass deserves to not be fucked and if she really wanted him to shut up she should prove her strap game.
“What’s a strap game?” Steve types into google, and mostly just has more questions, because it looks like TheMechanic wants Natasha to prove she’s got guns on her.
But again. Steve’s just a man. So one day when he’s feeling a little horny, he recklessly tweets to TheMechanic, “Hey,” and then a selfie he’d taken the night before on a rooftop right before he’d taken down some AIM thugs trying to steal from Stark Industries. He doesn’t get an immediate response but that’s okay. The guy doesn’t have to be online all the time.
Steve is just tucking his phone into his pocket when Iron Man flies into the room—literally flies, repulsors leaving scorch marks on the carpet. Steve opens his mouth to scold him.
“NATASHA WE HAVE A CODE RED NOMAD TWEETED ME HELP WHAT DO I SAY,” Iron Man bellows, and Steve nearly swallows his tongue. “Oh hi Steve, hope I’m not interrupting. NATASHA THIS IS IMPORTANT,” he shouts, turning back to her.
Natasha lets out a bark of hysterical laughter. Steve can only surmise that it’s because his mouth is still hanging open and he’s staring at Iron Man like he’s a ghost.
“Natasha this is important I only have one first impression,” Iron Man hisses. “I need to ride that dick. I have been horny since the first night I saw that stupid costume NATASHA HELP ME.”
“I’ll just leave you two to work on this,” Steve says hastily.
It’s only his super hearing that catches Iron Man mournfully asking, “Do you think your hot artist friend would be willing to pity-dick me if Nomad turns me down?”
“Oh my god,” Natasha chokes out, voice full of mirth, and Steve hates that this is probably the most fun she’s had in literal years.
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