“Gross, Steve, you got Freedom all over me.”
“You said you wanted it.”
Bucky scowls and rubs furiously at a spot on his shirt. “Not in gross little wet patches.”
“I’m sorry, Bucky. I guess I need to work on my aim.”
“Seriously,” he grumbles and gives up on his shirt. “Going to change. This is too uncomfortable. Super-soldier fucking everything.” His grumbling fades into Russian as he leaves the living room, sparing a small wave for Clint and Bruce standing in the door.
“Freedom?” Bruce asks.
“Is that what they called it back then?”
Steve straightens and twists to look back at them. “We didn’t have it back then.”
Clint tries to keep a straight face and it’s a valiant effort. “You didn’t have freedom?” He makes the little quote gestures with his fingers as he says freedom.
“I…what? No, the uh,” he makes a squeezing gesture which turns Bruce bright red, “Clothing freshener? I can’t remember the name so Bucky calls it Freedom.”
Clint’s jaw drops. “Febreze? You were…”
He throws up his hands. “Nope, I give up. It’s too early. Enjoy your freedom or whatever.”