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The chatter over his comm was muted as Steve surveyed the building crowd at the hospital dedication. He’d performed three venue checks personally that morning, and had overseen the VIP vetting himself.
As a senior specialist with SHIELD Securities. Steve’s position was behind the ops in the comm center, a calm, quiet presence who directed others on the ground. He was good (great, actually) at his job, had worked his way up the ladder in personal security after being recruited fresh out of the army by Phil Coulson. Normally, Steve was a floater who set groundwork and trained teams for jobs before he moved on to the next assignment, but this wasn’t an ordinary job.
He’d stepped back from the field a few years ago, but when a personal request from Oslo came down the pipeline, Steve couldn’t refuse. The Crown Prince was spending a year in Houston, working on a joint project with Stark Industries and Statoil on clean energy initiatives, and he’d asked for Steve to head his security detail for his public appearances. First up was a ceremonial opening for the new cardiology clinic at Memorial Hermann, where the King’s personal physician had done his residency.
Clint’s voice crackled over his earpiece. “View from the top is clear.”
"Entry?"
"We’re good, Viking’s five minutes out." Natasha was stationed at the service entrance, where the motorcade would drop off and pick up. She was cool, efficient, and as quiet as Clint was chatty. The three of them had worked together on countless occasions, Steve was confident in their abilities.
"What I gotta know is where Rogers left his glass slipper for this gig, because man, you’re pretty, but you’re not that pretty."
"A dream is a wish your heart makes, Barton," Steve rebutted, a hint of a smile grazing his lips. "I’ll get you my fairy godmother’s number." Disney jokes aside, he’d met Thor in Afghanistan, the prince had been in the FSK, and Steve’s unit had worked six months together with his in Kabul. They’d been friends a few months, stuck in the dust and wind in a canvas wasteland before Steve realized Thor was the heir to the damn throne. The amount of respect Steve already had for Thor multiplied by about a thousand after that. (Steve joined the army because college was a long shot he couldn’t afford, and he figured it was the easiest way to get out of his neighborhood and see another part of the world.)
"ETA two minutes," Natasha murmured, and Steve performed another visual scan while requesting traffic stats from headquarters. He’d been receiving updates all morning from the comm truck and VIP checkpoints, and everything was in place. Steve had had several meetings with the head of the Norwegian royal security team, had received a phone call from the Queen herself, thanking him for his commitment, but he had yet to see the prince.
"Visual confirmed," Clint added, and Steve could hear Natasha welcoming the delegation and he updated the Prince’s detail on their location.
"Here we go." Steve took his place near the back of the stage, watching the small group make their way forward. Surrounded by a scant handful of people, Thor was easy to pick out. Taller than Steve remembered him, he was the picture of corporate diplomacy in a suit instead of fatigues. Shaking hands with the hospital director and fundraising coordinators, it was disconcerting for Steve to see that Thor was an actual prince, that it wasn’t just some ephemeral title in a country half a world away.
He was good at what he did, smiling and conversing easily with everyone assembled, and Steve’s attention kept coming back to him. After another perimeter pass, as Thor got closer to the stage, thanking a reporter from the Chronicle, and he caught Steve’s eye. He flashed the familiar wide grin that Steve remembered, albeit covered in dust and accompanying a lukewarm beer after a return to base. The edge of Steve’s mouth quirked up and he nodded once before swinging his gaze back to the crowd. They were a well-behaved group, and the ceremony and follow-up brunch went off smoothly.
Steve felt apprehension at the start of each job, just enough of a jittery edge to keep him focused from getting complacent. This was a welcome change of pace after some of his caseload from the last few years, and as he debriefed with his team that afternoon, Steve got a good feeling about his year’s relocation to Houston.
When an unfamiliar number rang his phone that night, asking Steve if he wanted to get a beer and catch up, it got even better.