Chapter Text
Captain America, Black Widow, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon walked into a gastropub.
Technically they were out of uniform, so just four unusually attractive people looking for lunch, but the host seated them and then made a beeline for Eliot.
"Superheroes at table nine," she said. "They are your problem."
"Sure goddamn are," Eliot sighed. "I'll take care of it."
"Try not to break any windows this time," she replied. "I'm staying in the kitchen until they leave."
She had, conveniently, seated the four of them at a six-top, so Eliot pulled out a spare chair and sat down without preamble.
"Well," Captain America said to him. "You must be the fella."
"You're right," Black Widow said to the Winter Soldier, also known as Bucky Barnes or, as Eliot liked to call him, granddad. "The family resemblance is uncanny."
"I wear less eyeliner," Eliot said. "You're spooking my service staff. You couldn't call ahead?"
"Thought you might bolt if we did," Bucky said.
"That sounds like you need something," Eliot replied.
"Imagine we do," Bucky said.
"I am losing my whole-ass mind," Sam Wilson announced. "Do you two do this laconic banter any time you're in the same room or is it some kind of weird performance art you put on just for us? Also are you special forces?" he asked Eliot. "It's a very distinctive posture."
"Not anymore," Eliot said. "Not really looking to insert myself in the superhero world, either," he added to Bucky.
"We need your crew," the Black Widow said. "One job, in and out. We're too visible, and we don't have a -- "
Parker descended from the rafters, dropping into the chair next to Eliot.
" -- thief," Black Widow finished.
"Hi," Parker said. She gave Eliot a beseeching look. "I want to be a superhero."
Eliot sighed, because if Parker was here, Hardison was on his way, and he too would want to be a superhero.
"You're lucky I believe in supporting my family," he told Bucky. "Let's hear the pitch..."