If the IRC prompts are still open I would love to have a flopsy of Steve and Neal getting into trouble together.
Mwahahah. A slight continuation from the earlier story…
Rescuing a Picasso was, it was true, not entirely within the realm of Avengers business. When it was stolen, however, Steve was appalled and personally offended, and he somehow wrangled permission from the FBI to work the case. Clint got sent along as his minder, which was okay, since it turned out one of the FBI guys had a friend named Mozzie who was the best entertainment ever.
Still, it wasn’t all laughs; what Neal thought would be an easy recovery turned south fast when it became evident that the thief, who had been a normal human being when Neal knew him, had joined Hydra sometime in the last few years and was starting a stockpile of “degenerate” art he was planning to publicly burn.
“You know, I genuinely did not expect supervillains,” Neal said, crouched behind a crate containing a priceless granite sculpture, which was currently being shot at by Hydra’s art division, for the love of God.
“THIS IS A BRANCUSI, YOU MONSTERS,” Steve yelled, and threw his shield. There were two grunts and a clang.
“As battle cries go, I’ve heard worse,” Neal allowed, as Steve stood up to catch the shield before crouching again. “How many more are there?”
“Goddamn Nazis and their goddamn art looting, does this look like a salt mine to you,” Steve muttered to himself. “There’s two more hiding behind what looks like a Klee nude in the corner.”
“Oh, that’s a fake,” Neal said.
“For sure?” Steve asked.
“Yep, painted it myself, I recognized it.”
“Good,” Steve said grimly, and threw the shield again. There was the sound of tearing canvas, then a gurgling scream. Steve put out an arm and caught the shield, then bounced to his feet.
“All clear,” he said to Neal, who stood and dusted himself off just as the roll door of the warehouse opened.
“Neal?” Peter called. “Captain Rogers?”
“All good here!” Neal said, as Steve stowed the shield on his back. “Just Nazi art loot.”
Peter looked around, sighed, and then said, in an aggrieved tone, “Again?”