A/N: Cap is the man with the plan — the Cellphone Plan.

The Cellphone Plan

One of the peculiar things Steve Rogers noticed about the modern era was that people went outside to make phone calls.

He understood it better after seeing the open cubicles that most office workers occupied. Everybody in the room could hear everyone's conversation.

Even though there were people outside, they were strangers who didn't care about your conversation, so it seemed more private.

As Steve approached Avengers Tower, he saw three people taking advantage of this semblance of privacy. A young woman was perched on the edge of a planter, eating an early lunch and talking animatedly to a girlfriend about the men in their lives — or maybe about film actors they liked — Steve couldn't be sure.

Another caller was trying to make an appointment with his urologist without describing his symptoms in detail.

A second man was apologizing to his wife for some accidental insult to her parents. He was groveling to regain her favor.

Steve averted his eyes to grant them the privacy they sought and — oh, look, here comes Clint Barton, just pulling his cellphone from his pocket. The archer paused to talk to Lillian in accounting.

"I turned in that receipt." Steve's enhanced hearing picked up Clint's complaint.

The signal at the corner changed and traffic paused. A motorcycle came to a stop, engine still loud even at idle.

All four callers plugged their free ears and sent the motorcyclist dirty looks, which he didn't even notice.

The light changed again and the motorcycle roared to life. The four callers rolled their eyes, then began to talk again, as traffic resumed its usual rumble. A surge of lunchtime traffic made all the callers hasten to finish their conversations.

Steve came up to Clint just as the archer said, "OK, I'm on my way to the office now. I'll look for that receipt, but I'm sure I turned it in."

"Man, it's hard to hear out here," Clint complained to Steve.

"You could call from your office," Steve pointed out.

"I could, but there's no privacy for cubicle workers," Clint said, nodding at his fellow callers.

There was a momentary noise break when the traffic light brought a pair of near-silent electric cars to a halt at the intersection. Clint's words seemed loud in the quiet and Steve saw the other three callers nod to themselves at the archer's words.

Cap suppressed a smile. "What we need is a privacy cubicle out here," he suggested. "With a door you can close to cut out the noise and a glass window so you can see if anyone else is waiting to use it."

All the callers, including Clint, perked up at the thought.

"That sounds great," Hawkeye admitted.

"Yeah, we should petition the city," Steve said enthusiastically. "We could call them … phone booths!"

Grinning, he made a quick escape into the building, enjoying the "Wait? What?" expressions on the four listeners' faces.

Clint shook his head sadly. "I keep forgetting what a troll he is," he told the others.

"Yeah, but it's still a good idea," the woman said.

A/N: Sorry I didn't post sooner, but I was braving the mall to finish my Christmas shopping. But I can't forget my faithful readers. I think there will be "Reconstruction" Christmas stories the next two Saturdays. I don't have them written, but I do have ideas.