“So, did you decide if you were going to keep the name?” Sharon asked, phone in one hand and chopsticks in the others. She gave off an air of nonchalance, but Sam would bet the shield that she had something going on.
A look at Barnes more than solidified it, the suspicion clear in his eyes.
“Is that what dinner was about?” Sam asked in return, spearing a spring roll with a chopstick. He had been surprised when Sharon had shown up with bags of food in tow, but as she had explained earlier, it was her job as their official SHIELD liaison to get to know them better to help them better.
Sharon smiled, sweet as could be, and shrugged. “Curiosity.”
“How much is curiosity worth?” Barnes picked at his dinner with some caution now, though Sam was sure he knew Sharon wouldn’t have tampered with it.
“Right now? About 200 bucks, though it sounds like someone’s willing to go double or nothing.” She set her phone aside and slid it towards the center of the table face down, returning to her rice. “I’m not above splitting the pot.”
“Only if you tell me what everyone else bet on.” It’s in bad form, to be betting on something so monumental, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have done it if it was him.
Sharon hummed, eyeing Barnes’ plate. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her chopsticks over to snag the untouched egg roll on his plate, before he reached out and blocked her. He held her eye for a second, then grinned, sliding it over willingly. “You’re just like Peggy.”
“I’ll have to ask you for that story next time.” Prize in hand, Sharon grabbed her phone again and quickly scrolled through it. “So, the other contenders are Falcon Cap, Captain Falcon, Captain Wilson, and the very small subgroup insistent on Bucky Cap.”
“Hell no, I’m not taking that up,” Barnes muttered at his plate, turning to glare at Sam like he’d been the one to suggest it. “You can deal with all that nonsense.”
“You don’t do votes of confidence, do you?” Sam watched Sharon type furiously on her phone with a dark smirk, shaking his head. “Is that good news or bad, Carter?”
“That U.S. Agent asshole doubled the double. He thinks the higher ups are gonna make you trade with him so he’ll be the new Cap.” She rolled her eyes at that, holding her phone up, camera out. “So! Mister Sam Wilson, what do you say? What’s the official verdict on the name game?”
“You recording?” Once Sharon nodded, Sam shot the camera his best smile. “Folks, you’re looking at Captain America.”
“Three cheers for Captain America,” Barnes drawled, then snickered like it was an inside joke. Still, Sam had to admit it felt good to hear it. It made it real.
Captain America. Who would have thought?