Steve discovers Roll Rolling one night while working through the list of music recommendations Sam and Natasha had given him. At first he thinks it’s a random ad popping up in the middle of the music video. Then he reads the comments. Nearly every one involves swearing and the term ‘Rick Roll’d.’ Google, as always, is unbelievably helpful and Steve laughs out loud to himself upon reading the Wiki page.
Sam is first.
Steve: Otis Redding is terrific – thanks for the recommendation. Found one you might like. Let me know what you think.
He pastes the link into the text before hitting send. He smirks and waits.
Sam: Steve Rogers, you Rick Rollin’ sonofabitch! Dammit, man. Who knew Captain America was such a troll?
Steve’s sharp bark of laughter echoes off the walls.
Steve: On your left
Sam: You’re an asshole
Sam: Fifty bucks says you can’t get everyone else
Steve: I won’t feel bad taking your money, you know?
Sam: That’s why you’re an asshole.
IDEK you guise.
Steve: Hey, Clint, thanks for the movie recommendations. Pretty in Pink was great. I liked this one too.
Steve carefully pastes the link in and presses send without a moment of regret. He tosses his phone on the counter and opens the fridge. Halfway through making a pile of sandwiches his phone vibrates on the counter.
Clint: WTF?
Clint: U rick rolled me.
Steve: Sorry, pal.
Clint: UR an asshole. >:(
Steve snorts and screencaps the texts.
Steve: one down.
He attaches the picture and sends it to Sam, laughing to himself as he pulls a carton of milk from the fridge.
Sam: Why am I friends with you?
Steve: My senior citizen’s discount.
Natasha doesn’t reply. Steve hasn’t heard anything from her in three days, so he assumes she’s off somewhere on the other side of the world kicking ass and taking names.
He’s walking back to his place one night with a couple of large pizzas, listening to the 60s mix Sam made for him when a little blur of red and black lunges at him from the shadows. His attacker sweeps his legs out from under him and knocks him to the ground. He’s prepared to spring to the defense when he sees it’s Natasha. Steve’s laugh is cut short when she presses a pointed heel against his throat. “Dammit, Nat! You made me drop my pizzas. What the hell?”
She presses her heel a fraction closer and breathing becomes difficult.
Natasha eyes him coolly with her arms crossed against her chest. ”I’ve had motherfucking Rick Astley in my head for three days now, you little shithead.”
Steve snorts and immediately regrets it.
Natasha kicks him in the ribs before offering a hand to help him off the ground.
“Share your pizza and let’s figure out how you’re going to get Stark.”
(Natasha is having exactly none of your shit, Steve.)
Despite what Tony thinks, Thor has no trouble with Midgardian technology. Humor, yes, but technology no. Steve sends Thor an email, swipes his iPod off the desk and goes out for a run, listening to the 70s mix Sam made him.
unknown number: I hate you.
Steve: Excuse me, I think you have the wrong number.
unknown number: I have the right number, Captain Rogers. Thor has not stopped singing all day.
Steve: I’m sorry, Dr. Foster.
Dr. Foster: No, you’re not. ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ
No, he really wasn’t.
….
Steve finds an acoustic version, heavy on the sitar, of Rick Astley’s notorious hit and asks JARVIS to play it the next time Bruce plays his tea time music.
Two days later they learn that Hulk can’t sing but he can hum. Rather soulfully, he thinks as he sends a video clip to Sam.
Sam: You fucker, Rogers.
Steve: Five down. One to go.
Sam: Good luck with that one, asshole.
Steve: Better have my money ready, Wilson.
(Thor enjoys Midgardian folk tales sung in chanted verse)
