This is the result of watching Iron Man too much and random plot bunnies invading my brain… oddly (or maybe not… I'm more of a Dark Horse girl, to be honest) I've never actually seen or read anything to do with Captain America, other than the Marvel wiki, so if I get the character completely wrong, I apologize and blame my friend for convincing me to post this in the first place. But hopefully y'all might at least find it mildly amusing…

So, disclaimers… as I'm not Stan Lee, or anyone else from Marvel, I obviously can't claim credit for the Captain, or the mentions of other Marvel characters, etc. I'm simply borrowing them for a bit, for purely entertainment purposes.

A note on context: this was adapted from something that was in a longer fic I started and probably won't finish, but this particular bit had me laughing to myself, so I decided to try a one-shot version. The reason our dear Captain is attempting to research Stark is something to do with the assembly of the Avengers. Also, this is more-or-less entirely based in what I saw in the Iron Man movies, and with what I got from the internets about the Captain, with a few things I added that I'll call speculation as to the upcoming Avengers-related movies (chiefly, the speculation that Howard Stark was somehow involved in Operation Rebirth). As I said, I know very little of the comics…

And now that I'm done rambling incoherently…

Internet for Dummies

A marvel, they told him. A wonder of wonders. A machine that could effortlessly retrieve any information he might need and deliver it to him instantly.

It was easy, they assured him; it required no real skill. Children regularly used such devices these days. He would pick it up in no time.

Yet there he was, sitting in that bouncing, padded chair, staring at the screen and feeling like he had just gone head-to-head with the Red Skull and only just come out on top because he got lucky. He was Captain America, for Pete's sake! How the heck could he not figure out how to operate this thing?

He glared at the offending heap of wires, plastic and metal, contemplating how many hits with his shield it would withstand before it fell apart entirely. And they said it was easy… he thought, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath. He was deeply regretting his assurances to that plucky young agent who had offered his help that he could certainly handle this. He had, after all, fought Nazis, super-powered villains, and some of the greatest evil the world had ever known. He had been so sure he could do this.

Now he wished the agent would come back, because this was the third time he had been shown multitudes of pictures of half-naked women, and the fifth time he had been subjected to a video of a badly-dressed man dancing around with a microphone, crooning into it with too much enthusiasm and not enough musical talent. And that wasn't even counting the scores of secondary windows that had popped up every few minutes, offering everything from screensavers (whatever those were) of simulated fish tanks to free trials of medication assured to make the women in his life happy. He had been at it for hours, "googleing" Tony Stark in an attempt to learn as much as he could about the proposed team Nick Fury wanted him to lead… that, and his own curiosity about the offspring of his old friend from Operation Rebirth. So far, the only thing of significance he had been able to find was a great deal of footage of Stark in various stages of dress, imbibing great deals of alcohol, his heroic (and generally destructive) stunts as Iron Man, and accounts of his many public press conferences that had gone awry; that, and more recent stories speculating on his love life, which Rogers wasn't especially interested in. It wasn't looking promising on either front; he wasn't gaining any confidence in Stark's abilities as a team player, nor was he learning much more about him personally except that he liked fast cars, pretty women, expensive drinks, and was quite possibly in a serious relationship with his former assistant, and the current CEO of Stark Industries.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, glaring at the computer, which was once again displaying the man singing, before turning to the intercom and pressing the button with more force than was strictly necessary, "Mike!"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers?" the agent who had been put at his beck-and-call should he need assistance returned, "You need help with the computer?"

"I thought you said children could use these things!"

"I'm sorry, it takes some practice," he shrugged apologetically, "What were you after?"

"I just want information about Tony Stark that doesn't involve naked women or gossip about his love life!" Rogers bellowed, standing and pointing at the computer accusingly, as if it was all the machine's fault. He stalked towards the door as the agent sat down, hiding a grin. The grin turned into full-blown laughter as Rogers stomped out of the room, pausing only to shout back through the doorway,

"And who the heck is Rick Roll?"


Unnecessary meanness is not appreciated, though constructive criticism and outright praise (should there be any) is welcome. Hopefully I at least made somebody other than myself laugh.