FIC: Arlington: Christmas Day, 2013 (Clint Barton, Steve Rogers)
I posted this fic, which is part of my long Clint Barton fic, on AO3 a couple of weeks ago. But in case you missed it....
Arlington: Christmas Day, 2013
Fandom: MCU
Summary: Steve inadvertently steps on a land mine in a war he knows nothing about. He reacts about like you'd expect. (Not nearly as grim as this summary makes it sound.)
Warning for Fox News
Snowflakes settle on Clint's hair and shoulders, land and melt on his face and the backs of his hands. It's cold for DC, and the damp--not unusual at all--seeps into his bones. He's not sure how long he's been standing here at Phil's grave, only that it's been a while.
"The thing about Arlington," he says to Steve, who's been standing behind him at a respectful distance for a few minutes now, "is that you can't stand here thinking that you're the only one who's suffering this way, that your story is that different from anyone else's. I mean, yeah, you lost Bucky seventy years ago and practically yesterday, and Phil got stabbed through the heart by a Norse god, but when you look at these rows and rows of white stones, it's got to hit you that this has been going on for a long, long time." He turns to face Steve. "Well, I guess that hit you a lot sooner than it did me.”
Steve offers a wry smile. "Yeah, I guess so." After a pause, he asks, "Did it help, coming here?”
"I think it does. I know he'd be proud and honored to be here, included in this company. He lived and died doing what he felt he was meant to, keeping people safe, making it possible for them to live their lives not having to know the shit that he knew." He smirks. "Listen to me, I'm finally giving Phil his eulogy. What about you, Steve? Does it help you to come here?" Briefly placing his palm on Phil's headstone in farewell, he turns and they start walking back the way they had come.
"Sometimes, I guess. But sometimes it feels like poking at a wound, stirring up a lot of 'what ifs'. And it's a big disappointment to see seventy more years of gravestones. I really hoped we'd learn how to do things differently. I would have been good with waking up and being a completely forgotten part of a long-past era because humanity had moved on."
"Well, moving on is a bitch, isn't it? Whether it's one person or seven billion.”
"Seven billion--you are just pulling that number out of the air, aren't you?"
"Nope. That's the latest stat. Which I guess is why we don't do something about all the war and killing. Plenty of spare-- Hey, it's Christmas Day. Tell me to knock off the gloom.”
"It's fair. There are men and women putting their lives on the line on Christmas Day. I wish there were something I could do for them."
"How about doing a video message wishing them a merry Christmas?"
Steve's mouth quirks unhappily. "It's a little late for that. Anyone who could arrange that has the day off, and by the time it would be finished--"
"Who needs to arrange anything? My phone's camera has a video setting, and the quality's good. We could do it right here and have it uploaded to YouTube in no time."
"Not here," Steve says.
"Well, no. It's a little...downbeat. Lincoln Memorial? The Jefferson?"
"The Lincoln. That's a great idea."
"Want to head back to your place and get your uniform?"
Steve shakes his head. "Let's go before we lose the light." It's not that late in the day, but the cloud cover has given the entire day a twilight feel.
As Steve's measured pace picks up, Clint can see it's not just hurry that quickens his steps but pleasure in the idea of spreading some kindness. To be honest, it has the same effect on Clint, with the additional enjoyment of making Cap a little happier.
It's barely a twenty minute walk to the memorial, but during that time the snow picks up its pace as well, and it's coming down with a fury when they reach the steps. There are a few tourists up around the gigantic figure of Lincoln, so Steve chooses a spot farther down the steps that gives a good distance view of the statue.
Clint gets the angle he wants and says, "Okay, go.”
Looking directly at the camera, Steve says, "Hi, this is Steve Rogers."
"Captain America!" Clint throws in, loud enough to sound like an exclamation on the video, but too soft to carry to the people above.
Cap's sheepish grin at this is just too fucking adorable. "Yeah. I've been on active duty far from home on Christmas day, and I just wanted to send my greetings to the men and women serving our country. We're having a white Christmas here in DC. I'd sing that song for you, but I know when I heard it when I was a continent away from home during my war, I cried. And anyway, if I sang it, everyone in hearing range would cry, so not singing will be my gift to you. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. And to those who observe some other tradition, I wish you peace and joy and light. Thanks for serving our nation. Be safe."
Steve abruptly bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, packing it as he rises and fires the snowball at Clint. The missile hits Clint in the shoulder, aimed perfectly to show up in the video on its way but not slam into his phone.
Clint cuts off the video in the midst of their laughter. "That is going to kick ass."
"Are you sure? I think I came off as kind of a dope."
"No more than usual," Clint says, offering a wicked grin. "Watch." He plays it for Steve, who curves his hand around's Clint's to angle the phone better. The warmth of his hand is almost a shock to Clint's nearly numb ones, and there seems to be some kind of current running beneath.
"Well, I do look dopey," Steve says ruefully. "But go ahead and put it up."
"When we get to your place. I can't do it directly with this phone."
"It's past time, I think. Your hands are frozen." Gently he pulls the phone away and slides it into his pocket without letting go of Clint. Then he briskly rubs Clint's hands between his. "There's this crazy new invention, Barton, called gloves. And Jesus, I sounded exactly like Bucky just now." That seems to prompt a wry smile rather than a fresh round of grief. "I hated bundling up, which meant every winter was nonstop nagging from him and my ma." He releases Clint's hands, which actually are warmer, and hands back his phone. "Now put your hands in your pockets."
"Sir yes sir," Clint says with a smirk in his voice. On the Metro back to Steve's neighborhood, he finds that, however he tries to direct them, his thoughts bouncing back to the heat and friction of Steve's hands on his. He scowls. What kind of person dwells on shit like this immediately after a visit to his lover's grave?
Back at the apartment, Steve puts on a pot of coffee while Clint putzes around with uploading the video greeting to YouTube.
After this, he texts a message to Tony to wish him a good Christmas, suggesting he tweet the link to Cap's message to his 6.7 billion Twitter followers. As he takes the coffee Steve offers, he sits back to let the internet do its thing.
"Thanks for inviting me here for Christmas. I've needed a good break. Man, the behind-the-scenes Smithsonian tour was kickass." Steve’s been acting as consultant to their upcoming WWII exhibit which, to his consternation, turned out to be a Captain America exhibit. He’d managed to steer it toward a Captain America and the Howling Commandos exhibit, at least. He’d taken Clint on a behind-the-scenes tour after meeting his train down from New York.
"It was fun showing off what I've been up to all this time. Thanks for lending the items from Phil's collection."
"He'd have been so stoked to have them there. Especially his notes with his contribution to the design for your new uniform, and having them blown up so huge."
Steve offers a lopsided grin. "Well, how else were people going to read handwriting so small?"
Clint has to laugh. "I guess there is that." It was possibly the neatest cursive he's ever seen, but so tiny he's heard Fury bitch that his "arms are too damn short to read this shit."
After the first cup of coffee, they move the conversation into Steve's kitchen, where he unpacks a huge quantity of containers from Dean & Deluca and puts some in the oven to heat.
Clint asks, "You like the people you're working with here?"
"I do. They aren't afraid to get excited about things. Though it was a little uncomfortable at first when it was me they were getting excited about. Things are already winding down on my end, though, so I've been splitting my time more between the Smithsonian and SHIELD. It'll be hard to leave when it's time."
"Anyone you're interested in?" He's not sure why he asked; this isn't the sort of question he normally drops into a conversation.
"Oh god, you sound like Natasha."
"Seriously?"
"Anytime she's in town she takes the opportunity to try to get my love life sorted out. She's always suggesting women I should ask out."
Clint snags a sugar cookie from a plastic-wrapped plate. "You want me to tell her to knock it off?"
"And spoil her fun? Nah. I can take it. Besides, driving her crazy is kind of fun too."
"Good. Nat needs another person who isn't too scared of her to fuck with her."
"Sweet potatoes, or regular mashed?" Steve asks.
"I don't think I've had sweet potatoes."
"I'll make 'em both. I can make room." He spends a while shuffling things around in the oven, then emerges to ask, "What about you?"
Clint, who's been idly watching (staring at his ass? No--definitely idly watching) tries to follow the thread of the conversation back. "Nope. Nobody on the horizon."
Laughing, Steve says, "Sorry. I was going back to the work conversation. How's it been going?"
He sips his coffee, which Steve had refilled. "I saw Thor last month when all that crazy shit was going on in England. He seems happy with Dr. Foster, but Asgard was attacked first, and his mother was killed and the city's been destroyed."
"That's a damn shame."
"Yeah. I got to talk with him for a little while. Loki died too. Apparently redeemed himself--he died fighting those freaky elves on their planet."
"Loki too. He's bound to be going through a lot."
"You can send the sympathy card for that one. If it weren't for Thor's feelings, I would've done a happy dance at the news." Selvig had told him his own reaction was to blurt Oh, thank God! in Thor's face. At least Clint had reined that in.
The caring and sharing drifts into more general talk through dinner, then they sprawl all over the living room furniture to watch A Christmas Story, which makes Steve laugh himself sick.
The next morning Clint's awakened by a text alert.
It's from Tony. Might want to turn on Fox News. Apparently Cap's a traitor in the war on Christmas.
***
If Tony thinks there's steam coming out of Bill O'Reilly's ears, he should see Steve. Once he sees O'Reilly's rant on his Christmas message, he's ready to start a war of his own.
Though he sympathizes--even agrees--Clint tries to talk him down. "They don't care what's true, Steve. They manufacture outrage because it makes people watch. Ratings equal money, and that's all that matters to these assholes."
Steve's on his feet, as he has been since a few sentences into O'Reilly's diatribe. "The least they can do is have me on to explain my point of view."
"No, that's the worst they can do. Because they wouldn't run what you said the way you said it. They'd chop it up into something that could be misconstrued by anyone who heard it, and the outrage machine would run on and on until it came across some other source of fuel. It's not worth your time."
"So I'm supposed to let these bullies have the last word."
Clint hadn't lived with the nation's foremost Captain America expert and fanboy to miss the fact that the word "bully" is a serious danger signal. "Nope. But you don't go to them to deliver your counter-message. Because when they get done with it, it won't be your message anymore."
"How do I--" Steve gently smacks himself in the forehead with his palm. "I'm an idiot. So I make another video. Think anyone will watch it?"
In answer, Clint gets out his phone and pulls up the YouTube page for yesterday's video, then tilts the screen toward Steve.
"Check out how many views you got in fourteen hours." Again he finds his hand cradled in Steve's, and the heat he feels flashing between them isn't just the effect of his hand being half frozen.
"Eight hundred sixty--that's three-quarters of a million. There has to be something wrong with their counter."
"Nope. It's gone viral. And now that Fox is all over it, it's gonna explode."
Steve releases Clint's hand as if he just realized he was holding it. "Viral. Explode. These are good things?" A crooked grin accompanies this, and Clint is suddenly intensely aware of how much he likes it on Steve.
"Give it a day or two and you'll be up there with Beyoncé. So do you want to do the follow-up video?"
"Damn right I do."
"I liked the stuff you said about the grave markers. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Arlington?"
"Yep."
"This time wear gloves."
***
This video requires some editing, so Clint sends the clips to Tony, and they put together a meal from the Christmas leftovers. Clint introduces Steve to Mystery Science Theater 3000 , but it doesn't take. It's not the references that trip him up--though Clint finds himself intensely aware of how fast and of-the-moment they were. With his own weird childhood on the road and limited hearing, there are a lot of references Clint misses, too, but he's a smartass, so he often finds them funny anyway.
It's the idea of people blabbing through an entire movie that really sets Steve's teeth on edge, and though he tries to relax into it and enjoy the jokes, he can't let go of his annoyance at Joel and the bots obscuring the dialog. "I used to get into fights with guys who yapped through movies."
Clint can tell when he's beat, so they turn the TV to a football game. Not long after, the finished video comes back from Tony.
The finished vid is much more of a production than Steve's initial message, but it's still a thing of beauty. It's almost like an ad for goodness and decency and purity of spirit. There's music--not overpowering or schmaltzy, just a quiet acoustic guitar that underscores the tone of Steve's words. (Clint would have sworn Tony wasn't even aware of the existence of acoustic guitar music.) The vid opens with Clint's establishing shot of the rows and rows of graves and then Steve walking into the frame.
He says, in voice over: "So it seems Fox News has a problem with my Christmas day message to the troops. Apparently I'm supposed to extend good wishes to our service men and women who worship in one way only. But I'm here to say, as hard as Fox tries to put their exclusive stamp on what being an American is all about, they don't get a say in how I express my appreciation to those who put their lives on the line for this nation."
The shot switches to Steve talking to the camera. "I'd like to show you something." He walks out of the shot, which cuts to a gravestone with a cross symbol at the top. "Here in Arlington, there are symbols on the markers to show the religious affiliation of the person it commemorates." The shot cuts to a montage of shots, starting with a Star of David and moving on to a series of other symbols.
Steve's voice continues: "Many of the symbols are ones I recognized, but some were new to me. So I looked them up on the internet. And I found the men and women buried here were followers of different branches of Christianity, of Judaism, Islam, Shinto, Sufism, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Native American traditions, Wicca and atheism, among many others."
Now the video switches back to Steve. "Each and every one of those men and women agreed to accept the same risks and sacrifices. I will honor them--and those who are fighting now--I will honor them all, on Christmas day and any day, and if Bill O'Reilly or--" Steve breaks off, rummaging in his coat pocket until he finds a slip of paper, which he consults-- "Sean Hannity have anything to say about it, they're welcome to come say it to my face." In his tone and expression it's easy to find the pugnacious little bastard Steve Rogers was as a scrawny kid.
"Thanks for listening," Steve says to the camera. Clint half expects to see a "Paid for by Friends of Steve Rogers for Senate" card, but the video just goes to black.
"Damn," Clint says. "That was brilliant."
Steve's wearing a slight frown. "We did a retake of the part about Sean Hannity. Why didn't Tony use that?"
"Because this is a sick burn. The fact that Captain America doesn't know his name will eat at his shriveled little soul."
Clint's phone rings. It's Tony. "Does Cap like it?"
"Judging by the grin on his face, I'd say he likes it. Speaking for myself, the Hannity moment is a nice touch. I'm about to upload it to YouTube."
"You can do that too," Tony says.
"Uh, thanks?"
"That'll be good for people without cable. Good plan."
Clint shoots Steve a look. Tony. Who knows what the fuck. "Cable?"
"Oh. Maybe I forgot to say. I'm about to pull the trigger on a multi-million dollar ad buy. It should be airing within the hour."
"Cool. Where should we look for it?"
"Fox News. Don't worry about missing it. It'll be pretty much on constant rotation. Gotta go. Iron-clad contracts to sign."
When Clint hangs up he's laughing so hard it takes him several minutes to report what Tony just said.
Arlington: Christmas Day, 2013
Fandom: MCU
Summary: Steve inadvertently steps on a land mine in a war he knows nothing about. He reacts about like you'd expect. (Not nearly as grim as this summary makes it sound.)
Warning for Fox News
Snowflakes settle on Clint's hair and shoulders, land and melt on his face and the backs of his hands. It's cold for DC, and the damp--not unusual at all--seeps into his bones. He's not sure how long he's been standing here at Phil's grave, only that it's been a while.
"The thing about Arlington," he says to Steve, who's been standing behind him at a respectful distance for a few minutes now, "is that you can't stand here thinking that you're the only one who's suffering this way, that your story is that different from anyone else's. I mean, yeah, you lost Bucky seventy years ago and practically yesterday, and Phil got stabbed through the heart by a Norse god, but when you look at these rows and rows of white stones, it's got to hit you that this has been going on for a long, long time." He turns to face Steve. "Well, I guess that hit you a lot sooner than it did me.”
Steve offers a wry smile. "Yeah, I guess so." After a pause, he asks, "Did it help, coming here?”
"I think it does. I know he'd be proud and honored to be here, included in this company. He lived and died doing what he felt he was meant to, keeping people safe, making it possible for them to live their lives not having to know the shit that he knew." He smirks. "Listen to me, I'm finally giving Phil his eulogy. What about you, Steve? Does it help you to come here?" Briefly placing his palm on Phil's headstone in farewell, he turns and they start walking back the way they had come.
"Sometimes, I guess. But sometimes it feels like poking at a wound, stirring up a lot of 'what ifs'. And it's a big disappointment to see seventy more years of gravestones. I really hoped we'd learn how to do things differently. I would have been good with waking up and being a completely forgotten part of a long-past era because humanity had moved on."
"Well, moving on is a bitch, isn't it? Whether it's one person or seven billion.”
"Seven billion--you are just pulling that number out of the air, aren't you?"
"Nope. That's the latest stat. Which I guess is why we don't do something about all the war and killing. Plenty of spare-- Hey, it's Christmas Day. Tell me to knock off the gloom.”
"It's fair. There are men and women putting their lives on the line on Christmas Day. I wish there were something I could do for them."
"How about doing a video message wishing them a merry Christmas?"
Steve's mouth quirks unhappily. "It's a little late for that. Anyone who could arrange that has the day off, and by the time it would be finished--"
"Who needs to arrange anything? My phone's camera has a video setting, and the quality's good. We could do it right here and have it uploaded to YouTube in no time."
"Not here," Steve says.
"Well, no. It's a little...downbeat. Lincoln Memorial? The Jefferson?"
"The Lincoln. That's a great idea."
"Want to head back to your place and get your uniform?"
Steve shakes his head. "Let's go before we lose the light." It's not that late in the day, but the cloud cover has given the entire day a twilight feel.
As Steve's measured pace picks up, Clint can see it's not just hurry that quickens his steps but pleasure in the idea of spreading some kindness. To be honest, it has the same effect on Clint, with the additional enjoyment of making Cap a little happier.
It's barely a twenty minute walk to the memorial, but during that time the snow picks up its pace as well, and it's coming down with a fury when they reach the steps. There are a few tourists up around the gigantic figure of Lincoln, so Steve chooses a spot farther down the steps that gives a good distance view of the statue.
Clint gets the angle he wants and says, "Okay, go.”
Looking directly at the camera, Steve says, "Hi, this is Steve Rogers."
"Captain America!" Clint throws in, loud enough to sound like an exclamation on the video, but too soft to carry to the people above.
Cap's sheepish grin at this is just too fucking adorable. "Yeah. I've been on active duty far from home on Christmas day, and I just wanted to send my greetings to the men and women serving our country. We're having a white Christmas here in DC. I'd sing that song for you, but I know when I heard it when I was a continent away from home during my war, I cried. And anyway, if I sang it, everyone in hearing range would cry, so not singing will be my gift to you. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. And to those who observe some other tradition, I wish you peace and joy and light. Thanks for serving our nation. Be safe."
Steve abruptly bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, packing it as he rises and fires the snowball at Clint. The missile hits Clint in the shoulder, aimed perfectly to show up in the video on its way but not slam into his phone.
Clint cuts off the video in the midst of their laughter. "That is going to kick ass."
"Are you sure? I think I came off as kind of a dope."
"No more than usual," Clint says, offering a wicked grin. "Watch." He plays it for Steve, who curves his hand around's Clint's to angle the phone better. The warmth of his hand is almost a shock to Clint's nearly numb ones, and there seems to be some kind of current running beneath.
"Well, I do look dopey," Steve says ruefully. "But go ahead and put it up."
"When we get to your place. I can't do it directly with this phone."
"It's past time, I think. Your hands are frozen." Gently he pulls the phone away and slides it into his pocket without letting go of Clint. Then he briskly rubs Clint's hands between his. "There's this crazy new invention, Barton, called gloves. And Jesus, I sounded exactly like Bucky just now." That seems to prompt a wry smile rather than a fresh round of grief. "I hated bundling up, which meant every winter was nonstop nagging from him and my ma." He releases Clint's hands, which actually are warmer, and hands back his phone. "Now put your hands in your pockets."
"Sir yes sir," Clint says with a smirk in his voice. On the Metro back to Steve's neighborhood, he finds that, however he tries to direct them, his thoughts bouncing back to the heat and friction of Steve's hands on his. He scowls. What kind of person dwells on shit like this immediately after a visit to his lover's grave?
Back at the apartment, Steve puts on a pot of coffee while Clint putzes around with uploading the video greeting to YouTube.
After this, he texts a message to Tony to wish him a good Christmas, suggesting he tweet the link to Cap's message to his 6.7 billion Twitter followers. As he takes the coffee Steve offers, he sits back to let the internet do its thing.
"Thanks for inviting me here for Christmas. I've needed a good break. Man, the behind-the-scenes Smithsonian tour was kickass." Steve’s been acting as consultant to their upcoming WWII exhibit which, to his consternation, turned out to be a Captain America exhibit. He’d managed to steer it toward a Captain America and the Howling Commandos exhibit, at least. He’d taken Clint on a behind-the-scenes tour after meeting his train down from New York.
"It was fun showing off what I've been up to all this time. Thanks for lending the items from Phil's collection."
"He'd have been so stoked to have them there. Especially his notes with his contribution to the design for your new uniform, and having them blown up so huge."
Steve offers a lopsided grin. "Well, how else were people going to read handwriting so small?"
Clint has to laugh. "I guess there is that." It was possibly the neatest cursive he's ever seen, but so tiny he's heard Fury bitch that his "arms are too damn short to read this shit."
After the first cup of coffee, they move the conversation into Steve's kitchen, where he unpacks a huge quantity of containers from Dean & Deluca and puts some in the oven to heat.
Clint asks, "You like the people you're working with here?"
"I do. They aren't afraid to get excited about things. Though it was a little uncomfortable at first when it was me they were getting excited about. Things are already winding down on my end, though, so I've been splitting my time more between the Smithsonian and SHIELD. It'll be hard to leave when it's time."
"Anyone you're interested in?" He's not sure why he asked; this isn't the sort of question he normally drops into a conversation.
"Oh god, you sound like Natasha."
"Seriously?"
"Anytime she's in town she takes the opportunity to try to get my love life sorted out. She's always suggesting women I should ask out."
Clint snags a sugar cookie from a plastic-wrapped plate. "You want me to tell her to knock it off?"
"And spoil her fun? Nah. I can take it. Besides, driving her crazy is kind of fun too."
"Good. Nat needs another person who isn't too scared of her to fuck with her."
"Sweet potatoes, or regular mashed?" Steve asks.
"I don't think I've had sweet potatoes."
"I'll make 'em both. I can make room." He spends a while shuffling things around in the oven, then emerges to ask, "What about you?"
Clint, who's been idly watching (staring at his ass? No--definitely idly watching) tries to follow the thread of the conversation back. "Nope. Nobody on the horizon."
Laughing, Steve says, "Sorry. I was going back to the work conversation. How's it been going?"
He sips his coffee, which Steve had refilled. "I saw Thor last month when all that crazy shit was going on in England. He seems happy with Dr. Foster, but Asgard was attacked first, and his mother was killed and the city's been destroyed."
"That's a damn shame."
"Yeah. I got to talk with him for a little while. Loki died too. Apparently redeemed himself--he died fighting those freaky elves on their planet."
"Loki too. He's bound to be going through a lot."
"You can send the sympathy card for that one. If it weren't for Thor's feelings, I would've done a happy dance at the news." Selvig had told him his own reaction was to blurt Oh, thank God! in Thor's face. At least Clint had reined that in.
The caring and sharing drifts into more general talk through dinner, then they sprawl all over the living room furniture to watch A Christmas Story, which makes Steve laugh himself sick.
The next morning Clint's awakened by a text alert.
It's from Tony. Might want to turn on Fox News. Apparently Cap's a traitor in the war on Christmas.
***
If Tony thinks there's steam coming out of Bill O'Reilly's ears, he should see Steve. Once he sees O'Reilly's rant on his Christmas message, he's ready to start a war of his own.
Though he sympathizes--even agrees--Clint tries to talk him down. "They don't care what's true, Steve. They manufacture outrage because it makes people watch. Ratings equal money, and that's all that matters to these assholes."
Steve's on his feet, as he has been since a few sentences into O'Reilly's diatribe. "The least they can do is have me on to explain my point of view."
"No, that's the worst they can do. Because they wouldn't run what you said the way you said it. They'd chop it up into something that could be misconstrued by anyone who heard it, and the outrage machine would run on and on until it came across some other source of fuel. It's not worth your time."
"So I'm supposed to let these bullies have the last word."
Clint hadn't lived with the nation's foremost Captain America expert and fanboy to miss the fact that the word "bully" is a serious danger signal. "Nope. But you don't go to them to deliver your counter-message. Because when they get done with it, it won't be your message anymore."
"How do I--" Steve gently smacks himself in the forehead with his palm. "I'm an idiot. So I make another video. Think anyone will watch it?"
In answer, Clint gets out his phone and pulls up the YouTube page for yesterday's video, then tilts the screen toward Steve.
"Check out how many views you got in fourteen hours." Again he finds his hand cradled in Steve's, and the heat he feels flashing between them isn't just the effect of his hand being half frozen.
"Eight hundred sixty--that's three-quarters of a million. There has to be something wrong with their counter."
"Nope. It's gone viral. And now that Fox is all over it, it's gonna explode."
Steve releases Clint's hand as if he just realized he was holding it. "Viral. Explode. These are good things?" A crooked grin accompanies this, and Clint is suddenly intensely aware of how much he likes it on Steve.
"Give it a day or two and you'll be up there with Beyoncé. So do you want to do the follow-up video?"
"Damn right I do."
"I liked the stuff you said about the grave markers. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Arlington?"
"Yep."
"This time wear gloves."
***
This video requires some editing, so Clint sends the clips to Tony, and they put together a meal from the Christmas leftovers. Clint introduces Steve to Mystery Science Theater 3000 , but it doesn't take. It's not the references that trip him up--though Clint finds himself intensely aware of how fast and of-the-moment they were. With his own weird childhood on the road and limited hearing, there are a lot of references Clint misses, too, but he's a smartass, so he often finds them funny anyway.
It's the idea of people blabbing through an entire movie that really sets Steve's teeth on edge, and though he tries to relax into it and enjoy the jokes, he can't let go of his annoyance at Joel and the bots obscuring the dialog. "I used to get into fights with guys who yapped through movies."
Clint can tell when he's beat, so they turn the TV to a football game. Not long after, the finished video comes back from Tony.
The finished vid is much more of a production than Steve's initial message, but it's still a thing of beauty. It's almost like an ad for goodness and decency and purity of spirit. There's music--not overpowering or schmaltzy, just a quiet acoustic guitar that underscores the tone of Steve's words. (Clint would have sworn Tony wasn't even aware of the existence of acoustic guitar music.) The vid opens with Clint's establishing shot of the rows and rows of graves and then Steve walking into the frame.
He says, in voice over: "So it seems Fox News has a problem with my Christmas day message to the troops. Apparently I'm supposed to extend good wishes to our service men and women who worship in one way only. But I'm here to say, as hard as Fox tries to put their exclusive stamp on what being an American is all about, they don't get a say in how I express my appreciation to those who put their lives on the line for this nation."
The shot switches to Steve talking to the camera. "I'd like to show you something." He walks out of the shot, which cuts to a gravestone with a cross symbol at the top. "Here in Arlington, there are symbols on the markers to show the religious affiliation of the person it commemorates." The shot cuts to a montage of shots, starting with a Star of David and moving on to a series of other symbols.
Steve's voice continues: "Many of the symbols are ones I recognized, but some were new to me. So I looked them up on the internet. And I found the men and women buried here were followers of different branches of Christianity, of Judaism, Islam, Shinto, Sufism, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Native American traditions, Wicca and atheism, among many others."
Now the video switches back to Steve. "Each and every one of those men and women agreed to accept the same risks and sacrifices. I will honor them--and those who are fighting now--I will honor them all, on Christmas day and any day, and if Bill O'Reilly or--" Steve breaks off, rummaging in his coat pocket until he finds a slip of paper, which he consults-- "Sean Hannity have anything to say about it, they're welcome to come say it to my face." In his tone and expression it's easy to find the pugnacious little bastard Steve Rogers was as a scrawny kid.
"Thanks for listening," Steve says to the camera. Clint half expects to see a "Paid for by Friends of Steve Rogers for Senate" card, but the video just goes to black.
"Damn," Clint says. "That was brilliant."
Steve's wearing a slight frown. "We did a retake of the part about Sean Hannity. Why didn't Tony use that?"
"Because this is a sick burn. The fact that Captain America doesn't know his name will eat at his shriveled little soul."
Clint's phone rings. It's Tony. "Does Cap like it?"
"Judging by the grin on his face, I'd say he likes it. Speaking for myself, the Hannity moment is a nice touch. I'm about to upload it to YouTube."
"You can do that too," Tony says.
"Uh, thanks?"
"That'll be good for people without cable. Good plan."
Clint shoots Steve a look. Tony. Who knows what the fuck. "Cable?"
"Oh. Maybe I forgot to say. I'm about to pull the trigger on a multi-million dollar ad buy. It should be airing within the hour."
"Cool. Where should we look for it?"
"Fox News. Don't worry about missing it. It'll be pretty much on constant rotation. Gotta go. Iron-clad contracts to sign."
When Clint hangs up he's laughing so hard it takes him several minutes to report what Tony just said.