“You’re like, the new Waldo,” Sam says, shaking out a copy of US Weekly. He flops it on the table over the glossy covers of InTouch and OK!; one of which prominently features Steve carrying a bag of groceries and tugging on the brim of his baseball cap. Someone in the editing department has helpfully included a yellow circle demarcating Bucky’s blurry figure in the background.
Bucky pulls the magazine over and takes a look. The featured story is apparently a collection of fan photos and paparazzi shots: Steve signing someone’s t-shirt at press event, a selfie with three excited looking teenagers somewhere on the National Mall, what appears to be the back of Steve’s head while he orders coffee at a popup bistro.
In every shot - and there are pages, pages of them he realizes, flipping through each of the examples Sam has brought home - there he is, a shadow somewhere in the frame.
“I know you’re all, you know, stealth and shit,” Sam continues cheerfully, “but when you follow around someone as high profile as Steve, you might want to try leaving the leather and kevlar at home.”