4. Chapter 4

After the performance by "Hawkeye," Phil was still trying to pull himself together, and push his erection down, when Tony slipped into the seat across from him.

"A real surprise, huh?"

"Jesus almighty," Phil said before snapping his mouth shut.

"He's an amateur if you can buy that. I don't. But he's a disabled vet, so we don't ask questions." Tony sipped at his bottle of Coke. "He doesn't want the spotlight, enjoys being the warm up. Refuses to let me put his name on the roster, does one routine and that's it. Takes his stage money and whatever I can get away with paying him under the table and then sits at the bar, getting drunk. Never even goes home with anyone, and, well." Tony flipped a hand around, indicating the meat market around them. "People tip him twenties."

Phil clinched his jaw. "And you're telling me this because?"

Tony's eyes narrowed and he leaned back casually in the chair. "You can't have him."

"Pepper let you know I was here?"

"That's her job, Coulson. You know Maria 'Coldhearted Bitch' Hill would call you if I showed up at SHIELD." Tony looked around, feigning boredom. "I told you all of that to let you know what won't work on him: money and sex. He's getting plenty of cold hard cash every week and isn't interested in fucking. So good luck."

"He's good, but I'm not here for him." Phil tried to relax as he took a drink.

Tony smirked. "You sure about that?"

"As I said, he's good. It's a great act and he has a fantastic body. I'm not interested, but I'm not dead either."

Tony just "hmmm'd" at him.

"I'm here to talk to Rogers."

A dark looked passed over Tony's face, and Phil suspected that Sitwell's gossip was on the money: Tony was invested in Captain America in a way that was far from professional. "Fury's an asshole."

"That is an entirely different conversation. I'm just here to talk business with the talent."

"You think by stealing Steve out from under me, the Widow will follow? I don't think you know this team."

Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, Tony, I don't think anything of the kind. This is Fury's idea, and I'm his errand boy. I have absolutely no illusions of how successful I'm going to be, but I go where Fury tells me."

Tony was looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. He took another swig from his bottle of Coke then set it on the table. "You want a job?"

"I've got a job."

"Can't talk you over?" Tony just kept looking at him with the same terrifyingly blank expression.

"You know you can't."

Tony nodded. "Loyalty counts."

"Not in—" Phil stopped, remembering his short show-down with Clint earlier. "I suppose it does. Sometimes."

"Fury's not going to give up, is he?"

Phil shook his head. "He's tired of the club scene; it never changes. He wants to move into managing talent, and producing shows. He's got an idea about bringing back burlesque and vaudeville as modern theater. It's an old fashioned notion, but." Phil shrugged. He actually liked the idea, but it would all rest on the talent, and what Fury had in hand was not going to make a show.

Tony gave him another long, thoughtful look. "You know why you're not breaking up my team?"

"Does the answer have anything to do with you being an asshole?"

Tony grinned. "No." He took a long pull on his Coke before answering. "Clint."

"Hawkeye? You don't even have him billed."

Tony shrugged. "He took over club night, I don't even know how. Suddenly there's this blind veteran pole dancing on one of the platforms, the biggest insurance liability risk in the damn state, making money hand over fist and pulling in crowds. Pepper bullied me into putting in the main stage."

Phil shrugged back at him. It was a common enough story, for a night club. Tony shook his head. "I had a stage, but no talent. And I mean talent, not coked-up twinks doing Lady GaGa impersonations. But Barton knew Romanoff, probably they were both pirates on the high seas, I don't ask. He called her up and next thing I know I'm headlining the infamous Black Widow whom no one has even seen in years. She brings this blond kid, just out of the military, claims she found him 'in the ice' whatever the hell that means—and…well, you'll see. Anyway, here I am: a blind stripper, a burlesque star who doesn't strip, and an Adonis who thinks stripping is something you do to guns. It doesn't matter who is on the bill, they all work that stage together."

Phil nodded in understanding. "They're loyal to each other. Matched set."

"On top of that, they are loyal to me. Or Pepper. I'm not sure which." They both turned to look at where Pepper was lording the bar, tall and majestic and completely unforgiving. Tony sighed longingly. "If only I were a woman."

Phil nodded in understanding, having had the thought himself once or twice, before turning back to his drink. "Thanks for clearing that up for me."

Tony stood up with a salute of his Coke bottle. "Enjoy the show."

Phil nodded at his departing backside. He actually liked Tony, but dealing with the man always left him with a headache. It was Tony's gift to have that effect on most people he knew.

Almost immediately the lights went down again as some flunky dragged a fancy upholstered chair onto the stage. The Black Widow was next.

Her set went on for a while, at least as long as Clint's, and despite (or because of) the predominantly gay male audience, her modern, peek-a-boo burlesque routine was well received. She looked like a starlet out of Lohman's Moulin Rouge, dripping satin and velvet and rhinestones as she did a mostly acrobatic routine that (as Phil had guessed) barely used the pole. Phil assumed most of her tips were for her flexibility and her costuming, not her sex appeal, but she worked the crowd with an enticing smile that brought in a good wad of money. Phil had seen her act before a few years prior, before she fell off the radar, and knew just how perfect she was on stage. She was a great performer and there was no mystery as to why Fury wanted her on his team.

The Captain America set was different from anything Phil had come to expect from male strippers. Dressed head to toe in a ridiculous red, white and blue outfit, Rogers marched out on stage to a patriotic overture, then proceeded through a series of poses as if he were in a body building contest. The only difference was that he stripped slowly, piece by piece, in between poses. He didn't dance or try for acrobatics; he just gracefully exposed his absolutely perfect physique bit by small bit before striking a pose. His slow, purposefully but innocently erotic reveal revved up the crowd more than any amount of gyrating hips might have. It was clear to Phil that Romanov had a hand in Rogers' act, because it was all about the tease. It was the most masculine, hard-muscled burlesque performance Phil had ever seen. People were actually taking pictures. Phil shook his head. Clint had worked up his libido and Rogers' was not calming it down. The thing about Rogers was that he was so perfect, he seemed unattainable. He did not interact too much with the audience, only smiling at them occasionally as he worked through his routine. He was not shy but he kept a certain distance, unlike Clint who all but threw himself into the crowd to get a reaction.

Phil had a preference, but he was not immune to the charms of Captain America, especially when his last pose was standing in a red, white and blue thong with his legs and arms spread out, his glorious back to the audience so they could fully appreciate the gift from God that was Rogers' ass.

Phil slammed his drink. He understood what Fury was going for, but Phil knew that there was no way he was going to pull those acts from Stark's Bar.

After the performances, Rogers and Romanov and Clint all hung out together at the bar, talking to Pepper and to each other. Tony showed up again and tried to act territorial, but Rogers wrapped a large arm around his neck and pulled him into a rough hug, laughing.

They looked like a family. Romanov leaned up against Clint and whispered things to him that made him laugh while Tony blustered on about something or another. Phil watched, nursing his drink and sometimes making eye contact with Pepper, although she never motioned him over. He didn't really expect her to.

Phil walked out without even trying to talk to Rogers, much less the Black Widow herself. He knew where he wasn't wanted…but mostly when he was thinking that, it was Clint he had in mind.