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Five Times The Police dealt with Team America (and One Time They Dealt With the Police)

Summary:

A Five Times fic with Team America!

Ch 1: Domestic Disturbance (Or so they thought)
Ch 2: Running a Red Light
Ch 3: Not-Quite-Drunk Driving
Ch 4: In Which Steve Rogers Isn't the Only One to Start Bar Fights

Sorry, this is kind of abandoned. :( Just lost the idea and willpower. U can still enjoy it tho!

Chapter 1

Notes:

Yes, this is based on a tumblr post, but i thought it was fitting.

Chapter Text

When Rick and James arrived at the house they were called to, his first thought was that it was a really nice place. It was clearly well taken care of, a nice freshly painted house with a neat porch and mowed lawn. Not a single weed in sight. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the enraged shouting coming from inside, he would think it the perfect place to just kick back and relax.

But there was shouting. There was also an argument that was clearly heard from at least six houses down. Probably because the windows were open. Classic 6104.

Rick sighed and waved James behind him. They walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. The shouting quieted immeasurably before someone said something and it started up again. There was cursing followed by an exasperated reply before the door swung open.

The woman looking at them was just slightly taller than both men and looks fine. No visible injuries and she wasn’t holding herself stiffly.

She raised one eyebrow at them. “Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Officer Smith and this is Officer Roberts, we’re here because a concerned party reported a domestic disturbance.” He nodded inside pointedly.

She looked at them in confusion for a minute and then looked back where more arguing was radiating from. “Oh, bollocks,” she sighed. Rick is quick to note the english accent. “Sorry, officers. We’re having a bit of a… disagreement.”

“Are you in danger?” he asks quietly, cautiously.

“With these two?” She smiled in amusement, as if the thought was out of the realm of possibility. “Not at all.”

A loud crash reached the three’s ears and Rick and James stiffened.

“YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU AND FUCK THIS IKEA FURNITURE!” A stack of papers go flying into the wall and drops to the floor, spreading everywhere. “MAKE IT YOURSELF YOU ASSHOLE.”

“CALM DOWN.”

“NO, THIS IS THE LAST TIME I SWEA- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.”

“IT’S A CHAIR. IT’S FINE. SHUT UP.”

“IT’S  BACKWARDS AND UPSIDE DOWN STEVE.”

“IT’S FINE!”

“OH MY GOD.” A man stormed from the living room, heading down the hall with his hands tossed up in exasperation.

“HEY, FUCK YOU, IT’S FINE.”

The guy froze and clenches his hands. Suddenly he turned and opened what looks to be a dresser. He pulled out something long orange and green. A nerf gun, Rick noticed. The man snapped a round into the side and stormed back, pointing it into the living room and unleashing a torrent of darts.

There was a loud emasculating scream and bellowed curse. Within a few seconds the man with the gun was running down the hall again to get away. A second, a blond, runs after him, stopping only to grab a few Nerf guns from the dresser and rush after him with clear intentions.

Swearing and insults are flying like the darts until something broke with a sickening crack. One of them laughed.

“IT ISN’T FUNNY. THIS IS EXACTLY WHY WE WENT TO IKEA.”

“THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD WATCH WHERE YOUR FAT ASS IS GOING. PEGGY COME HELP ME.”

The woman sighed. “Reconstructing furniture is proving to be harder that it should be.”

James stifled a chuckle. The men ran back down the hall, this time coming toward them rather than away. Darts go flying and a few hit the group by the door.

The woman, seemingly not okay with the fact that she was hit by a dozen or so darts, reached behind the door and pulled out a much bigger nerf gun; one that looked semi-automatic and was painted in cartoonish silver and blues. Just as the men try to disappear upstairs, she shot the two with torrents of fast darts.

They yelped and cursed at her before they spotted the two cops and froze.

Rick felt the odd need to tip his hat.

“Uh,” the brunet said. He pointed with his Nerf gun. “He did it!” He shot the blond in the side of the head with a dart before disappearing upstairs.

Steve sputtered in disbelief.

The woman sighed and lowered the gun. “As you can see, no domestic violence and we’ll try to keep the yelling down.”

The blond on the stairs found himself getting hit with more darts and stepped back, putting his hands up defensively. “BUCKY DON’T MAKE ME GET THE SHIELD!”

Rick frowned. Bucky. Steve. Peggy. “Oh my god,” Rick said in realization. “You’re Agent Carter.”

James made a shocked noise. “ No way .”

Captain America, still standing awkwardly on the steps, turned to shout up the stairwell. “HEY BUCKY, WHY DON’T YOU COME DOWN SO I CAN WHOOP YOUR ASS.”

“YOU CAN TRY!” The Winter Soldier blowed a raspberry.

“WHAT ARE YOU SIX?”

“SIX INCHES DEEP IN YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

“THAT’S MY WIFE!”

“AND I’M YOUR HUSBAND!” Captain America climbed up the stairs and there was a lot of shouting and exclamations. A loud thump and a curse. Then it got suspiciously quiet.

Carter seemed to know what happening because she yells, “THERE ARE COPS ON OUR DOORSTEP. SNOG WHEN WE DON’T HAVE COMPANY.”

Two sets of hysterical laughter follow, then a low moan.

“Oh, geez,” Rick says, face burning and trying not to think about them screwing each other. “Look, just keep it down, alright?”

“Of course,” Agent Carter said. “Good day, officers.”

“Goodbye ma’am.”

She shut the door quickly and it locked it behind her. Rick looked at James. “Let’s go back to the precinct before we start hearing something we don’t want to.”