A/N: I still haven't finished Enemies List, my post-CA: TWS story, but here's something to tide you over. Road Trip is a Very Good Team story mean to be occasional vignettes of Steve's post-Avengers jaunt across the U.S. I have four ideas in mind, but only two written because, you know, Cap2 happened and stole my muse. But these are individual stories, no TBC, so when they get done, they get done.

Road Trip

Steve Rogers felt free.

For the first time since he woke up in a false hospital room, he felt he might be able to make a new life in this Flash Gordon future. Maybe it helped that now he had a common reference with the rest of humanity. The alien attack had turned the world upside down, and this time Steve had turned with it.

It also helped that he had become part of the Avengers. For all their differences, their shared experience gave them common ground. They might be only battle comrades at the moment, but he thought they could become friends.

At least they knew who he was, where he came from and why he seemed so backwards sometimes.

Steve joined the circle around the two Asgardians. Thor gave a nod of respect to the other Avengers, then vanished in a stream of light.

"Just like Star Trek," Barton murmured.

Steve added another cultural reference to his mental catalog of things to look up when he had time.

Tony came over with his hand outstretched.

"Captain, it's been real. Let's do it again sometime but — you know — without the invasion from outer space."

"But that was the best part," Steve joked, clasping Tony's hand in a warm, firm grip.

"You've got the phone I sent you, right?"

Steve patted the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket by way of response.

"Good," Tony said. "Fury can't track it. Even if you call him direct, Jarvis can block him off," Tony assured him.

"But you can track me," Steve said. It wasn't a question.

"Busy man, Cap. Not going to be looking over your shoulder every minute, but if something happens, someone will know where you are."

Steve had to admit it was reassuring.

"You think something will happen?" Steve asked.

"It's a big country and — well — you're Captain America. Heck, according to my dad's stories, you were a trouble-prone guy even before the serum."

Steve laughed and admitted it was true. "Thanks, Tony. It's nice to know someone is looking out for me," Steve said sincerely.

Tony looked embarrassed to be considered thoughtful. "Yeah, well, my dad looked for you for 50 years. It would be a shame to let you get lost again."

Tony escaped back to his car where Bruce was waiting.

Calling his goodbyes, Steve rode away on his motorcycle, smiling all the way.

He didn't get very far.

A horn beeped. Barton's car came up next to him. He called, "Hey, Cap, pull over for a minute. I forgot to give you something."

Steve waved and pulled into the deserted parking lot of an industrial complex. Hawkeye steered his car to a space beside Cap's motorcycle.

Steve didn't know what the SHIELD agents wanted, but he had to settle one thing first. When Clint and Natasha approached carrying sacks, Steve stuck out his hand to Hawkeye.

"Hi. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Steve Rogers."

At first, Clint looked at him as if he'd gone nuts, but then the penny dropped. Out of uniform, the soldier was Steve, not Cap. Clint shook the Super Soldier's hand.

"Hi," Clint replied. "I'm Clint Barton. Nice to meet you, finally. Do you know my friend, Natasha Romanoff?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at the byplay, but gripped Steve's hand.

"Miss Romanoff," Steve said politely.

"After all we've been through, I think you should call me Natasha, captain."

"I think you both should call me Steve," Steve countered. "What do you have for me?" he asked, nodding at the bags.

"Fury said you were taking off for awhile?"

"It sounded like an order," Steve said drily. "Fury said, 'Get out of town. Let the Security Council cool down. Let the public forget your face so all they have to remember you by are their blurry cellphone videos. Now get out of my sight. Get out of everyone's sight.'"

Clint was laughing by the time Steve finished and even Natasha cracked a smile.

"That sounds like Fury," Clint admitted. "He said just about the same thing to us."

"So I decided to see more of the country I represent. I've never had the ability to go anywhere I wanted," he said a little shyly. He had been sickly and poor and then he had been in the army where all his travel had been in the service of his country.

If anyone would understand the pleasure of aimless travel, it was Clint and Natasha. Neither had gone on a vacation until they had become SHIELD employees. Before that, all their travel had been "for business." Circus performances, assassinations — you know, "business."

"Fury wanted you to have this," Natasha said, pulling out a full-face, all black motorcycle helmet with a dark visor.

"I really don't need this," Steve said, as he took it.

"It's the law," Clint answered. "And you don't want to set a bad example for the kiddies," he added piously.

"Besides, it's good concealment for someone who'd supposed to stay out of everyone's sight," Natasha said.

Steve tried it on. It was more comfortable than he expected. He took it off and tucked it under one arm.

"Thanks, I wouldn't want to get a ticket."

"Fury also sent this." Clint handed over a blue denim drawstring sack, like you'd used for laundry. The question on Steve's lips died when he took the sack. He knew the shape and heft of his shield, even in a sack. Bulgy padding around it seemed to be stiff cloth.

"The uniform?" Steve asked. "I thought SHIELD was keeping it."

"Fury decided it would be better to keep it out of the hands of the WSC," Natasha said. "He thought you would be a better caretaker."

"That means, don't leave it lying around," Clint said sternly. He imagined the 1940s was a more trusting time. He didn't want Steve to get ripped off. He told Steve to keep his gear with him or locked up and never, ever leave it strapped on the bike. Steve solemnly promised to be paranoid.

They shook hands and wished each other well. The agents were about to leave, when Steve remembered something.

"Clint, what Fury said … Can cellphones film movies?"

"Sure, and still photos, too."

"Let me show you," Natasha offered. She and Clint gave Steve a quick lesson on his Starkphone's camera capabilities and a couple of other things they thought would be useful. They programmed in their personal numbers, the ones they hadn't given to SHIELD because Fury wanted them off the grid, too.

Natasha admired the sleek, easy to use phone. "Stark give you this?" Natasha asked.

Steve agreed. "He said no one can track them."

"Except him," Natasha pointed out.

Steve shrugged. "Gotta trust someone."

Trust didn't come easily to the agents, but first Clint then Natasha nodded.

You couldn't trust Stark to not snoop in your business. You couldn't trust him to not mock you with ridiculous nicknames. But could trust him to watch your back without a doubt.

"In Avengers we trust," Clint said.

"All others pay cash," Natasha said dryly.