9077/Also with Glitter

Also with Glitter
Date of Scene:	04 September 2019
Location:	Steve's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Wade and Steve have Serious Talks about Sentinels, Mold, and Sandwiches
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Captain America
Tinyplot:	Sentinels

---

Deadpool has posed:
A series of texts floods Steve's phone, from the incomparable Wade of Dead Pools.

<< What's up? >>

<<I'm bored. When will you be coming home? >>

<<Why is there glitter in your bed?>>

<<Never mind, figured it out!>>

And then there's lots of emojis. And a picture of Steve's pillow. There's glitter, and no explanation. In the background is a Deadpool suit, which would suggest Wade isn't clothed.

Captain America has posed:
<<WADE GET OUT OF MY BED>>

That's the first response, followed a minute later of continued texting dancing dots that move...and cease...and move...and cease. Ping.

<<AND PUT SOME CLOTHING ON FOR THE LOVE OF GOD>>

About ten minutes later, there's Steve, opening up his door with brisk force like he owns the place -- wait, he does, it's his bedroom. He's already sort of squinting, as if he'd have to immediately turn to face his back at Wade if the suit's still lying off to one side.

"There was not glitter in my bed last night or this morning, so why //is// there glitter in my bed, Wade?" he asks the room as a whole, frowning. Somebody's got grumpy hangover from the mission last run.

Deadpool has posed:
"I realized that there's glitter on my suit," Wade supplies. He's not naked, he's found some clothes. They fit okay. Which means Wade is a different type of sore on the eyes, since a lot of his body parts are visible in their cancerous glory. He's sitting on the floor, and is browsing something on his phone while eating. It appears to be a hot pocket.

The suit is where it was in the phone, and does have a glint of glitter speckling it.

"I didn't mean to," Wade adds, apologetic. "But I didn't want to wash your sheets without asking." THAT is the thing that needs permission, obviously. Wade's tone is actually rather even and rational.

Captain America has posed:
The near-silent grinding squeaking sound in the back of his throat is Steve fighting down a kneejerk reaction to grip his hair -- or kick the nearest object -- or say something awful in Gaelic -- because Wade's logic is solid enough to pass muster.

"Thank you for not assuming," comes the calm reply even as the Captain walks over to begin stripping the bed with a forceful precision. "About time to wash the sheets anyways." He's still in sweatpants and a t-shirt, having been out doing some form of cardiovascular exercise; his temples are darkened with his efforts and a small patch of dampness splotches his shirt at his sternum.

"You can keep the clothing too, I know those pants are very comfortable. I want that baseball cap back before you leave though, please," Steve continues.

Deadpool has posed:
"For more than just glitter reasons," Wade answers evasively, and turns his head to shine a beautiful smile at Steve with a flutter of eyelashes. Except Wade has no eyelashes, so it's horribly creepy. The meaning is playful, though, at most. There isn't a blazing explosion of crazy: Wade's present, just deliberately playing.

"I'm kidding. I didn't secrete any liquids onto anything," Wade provides. And pauses. "I understand how you could think I'd be serious about that, though." He taps one finger against the bill of the hat, and flashes a thumbs up.

Wade finishes up what he was doing on his phone, and turns a little more to take in Steve's status. "Want lunch?" It's probably oddly disorienting, so normal is the question.

Captain America has posed:
By the twitching of Steve's lips, he can't decide whether or not smiling at the razzing is more important than continuing to grump over his burgeoning armful of glittery sheeting. A brief glance at Wade is considering, even if fluttering with no eyelashes is uncanny as hell, and then he goes back to now stripping the pillows.

"Yeah, lunch sounds good, Wade. What were you thinking?" It's weird, but it's normalcy, and the Captain's subconsciously grasping for some form of normalcy. His t-shirt is dusted with fine twinkling points of glitter at this point, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. The bedding is gathered up and he turns to walk into the section of the room dedicated to the washer and dryer, indicating that he's still listening as he begins shoving it all into the washing machine.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade spins to his feet to help. It's overly acrobatic, and involves leaning back, spinning one leg up and out in a smooth little breakdance style move. He's suddenly on his feet and helping to bring the dropped fitted sheet over as well.

"Sandwiches," Wade says without any pause. That was what was in his head. "Like maybe a French Dip. Aaaaaaah, I want to dip," he explains with increasing energy and enthusiasm, patting his hands against his thighs rapidly as if in a drumroll. It still doesn't quite boarder into insane behavior: except that it's Wade, so everything usually qualifies.

Wade then removes his phone again to look at it, clearly to find a place. "freeeeench diiiiiip," Wade says aloud. "Ribeye steak. Yes."

Captain America has posed:
Steve stepping to one side allows the fitted sheet to be shoved into the washing machine as well. There was no expense spared in these models, given they needed to be able to handle large loads as well as multiple uses a day. Some might even endure more wear and tear than the local laundromat.

Buttons ping as he sets the cycle speed, heat, load size, and then grabs up the laundry detergent bottle. "French dip ribeye sandwiches sound great. There's a small place around the corner if you want a mom-and-pop experience, Sandwich City. They're good people," the blond explains as he pours in the necessary volume of detergent. The machine gives another musical chime and things begin to suds up behind the fish-eye glass. "I'll change my shirt and we can go." He walks out of the laundry area and over to one of his drawers to scrounge up a clean t-shirt. Nothing special, just a grey deal in soft cotton, broad in the shoulder to save seams.

Deadpool has posed:
"Yeah, let me get my shit," Wade says cheerfully in his natural pottymouth state. He heads to his glitter-clinged leather suit, and picks through the pockets and belt. He ends up, it appears, deciding he wanted to remove a thigh holster of a handgun and attach that to thigh, and a knife gets slipped into a sock, and he pulls his own boots on after de-strapping them from the suit. It's all very automatic and quick: gear gear gear.

Wade also grabs his image inducer, wrapping it around a wrist, though he doesn't trigger it yet. "Where did I put that tweeeeenty," Wade asks himself aloud, going through the suit's various belt pouches.

Captain America has posed:
"I'll pay for it, Wade, it's fine." Steve, back turned and looking over his shoulder, quickly takes the opportunity to swap shirts as fast as possible while the Merc is ferreting around in the myriad pouches on his suit. No more glitter, no more sweaty shirt, schwoop -- swapped out. The Captain tosses the workout shirt in the hamper and swish, it's good. His wallet is found somewhere on his work desk and put into his pocket.

"We'll walk, the weather's nice. Not too hot for once. Can't wait for the mugginess to break though. Used to be more of a pain back when, but it doesn't make it less uncomfortable." Walking to the bedroom door, he lingers, awaiting Wade to join him before he leaves into the hallway.

Deadpool has posed:
"It's not fine, this was my idea," Wade replies sharply, but there's a grin to follow it. Wade doesn't actually care THAT much, but he's still looking for it. "Well. A five. Maybe I bought parking," Wade remarks, as he finds a five dollar bill, thoughtful, trying to remember. Then he finds the twenty, wrapped in a used condom wrapper. "Hooray." The trash gets put into the trash can, not left on the bed. You're welcome, Steve.

"I don't know that I can maintan a conversation about weather longer than this hallway," Wade warns cheerfully, coming along, while stuffing the money in a back pocket. He also triggers the image inducer.

The image isn't Harry Potter or Elvis or any number of other things. It's some blonde guy, reasonably goodlooking. The eye color matches Wade's, as does the physique. He salutes two fingers near his forehead at the brim of hat, upon reaching the hallway.

Captain America has posed:
"No? Don't want to talk about the off-chance of rain showers influencing the city's inability to deal with the winter snow to come?" Steve asks drily towards the bedroom door as he closes it. Glancing back over his shoulder, his growing smile stutters in surprise. Wow, that face looks...familiar? Something jangles in the back of his memory, sure to be rooted out at some point even if it's 3am in a bout of sleepless rolling beneath blankets.

"Fine, what do you..." Even as they travel down the hallway, the Captain comes to a slow stop at the top of the main stairway leading down from the second floor to the foyer and gives Wade a more focused look. "Wade, you mind if I ask you a few things?"

Deadpool has posed:
"We can do a rain dance to summon Thor. We can beg him to let us have a proper storm; I'll talk about my dance stylings," Wade suggests with a quick little grin. "I bet you can dance. Can't you. Caaaan't you, oh captain my Captain?" teases the mercenary with a sideways look and flare of his eyes wide.

Wade came along willingly, and stops very close to behind Steve. Just abruptly, then sidesteps so that it's less awkward. The focused look gets a returned look from Wade's bright blue eyes. "Serious things? You have serious face on."

Captain America has posed:
"Pretty serious things, yes," the Captain confirms. A habitual look-about might seem out of place, but it's more to see if any of the other Avengers are around rather than to see if anyone's being nosy nearby. "Here, we'll walk 'nd talk -- 'nd yes, Wade, I can dance. Took lessons once I figured out it might be necessary at the social functions I attend now 'nd then. Can do most ballroom, swing...nothing too fancy, enough to keep up." He demurs honestly rather than subtly preening in his body language. Down the stairs he goes at a brisk cadence and then glances over at Wade again.

"You ever come across anything about a...Master Mold?" The man's wheat-gold brows are deeply drawn now.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade stops, watching the look-around with eyebrows sky high, as if Steve were the erratic one in this duo. Wade is wonderfully patient, setting his hands at the hips of the borrowed jeans, and then leans in a little... that is, until Steve sets off suddenly down the stairs. Wade comes along, though, seeming to be rather enraptured by the funny 'game'.

"Like a giant evil fungus?" Wade asks immediately. "How big of a patch of mold are we talking? Is it in the kitchen? Did Hulk do it?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve pulls up short this time, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He pulls them out, setting them one at his hip and the other at the back of his head to rub at his neck.

"Well...no, not that I'm aware of, though if you're ever bored, I'll tell you about a giant fungus we dealt with once." 'We' being the Avengers. "Tells me that maybe you're not in as deep as I thought though, even if you've been fighting the Sentinel robots." He seems to go reticent now, wincing a little as if he realized he'd accidentally stepped on toes.

Deadpool has posed:
"This is a Sentinel thing?" Wade asks, stopping once again when Steve does. This halting running-stop game is interesting but distracting. Still, Wade's a decent mimic, and when in rome, sudden stops and neck-rubbing can happen.

"I remember the world-eating fungus thing. Setting it on fire was /bad/," Wade says in a loud whisper, and a no-no-no gesture of finger. NOPE.

"Back to Sentinels being moldy, though. Maybe I do know. Give me a little more info," Wade asks. "I haven't been doing a lot with robots lately though. Mostly other jobs."

Captain America has posed:
Wade gets a dubious look, eloquent in those quirked eyebrows. Still, champion sigher that Steve is, he indulges in one and then squints.

"Alright. Found myself in Ningbo 'nd inside a basement full of stuff out of a bad sci-fi novel. Sentinel robots, but half-people. Turns out, inside that basement, was the head of a bigger, badder Sentinel robot. Somebody was trying to link up the smaller robots to it -- like they wanted to be able to communicate like a hive-mind. You heard anything about anybody else trying this?"

Deadpool has posed:
Wade stares at Steve for a long beat. And then: "You went on a mission to Ningbo where there were half-robot people in a basement of robots where they were making a Sentinel-human-centipede and you didn't think of me?" Wade asks in a rush of words. He makes a tiny little squeaky sound of hurt, licks his lips. Looks down.

Wade fidgets his fingers, still looking down, shaking his head a little. Looking to the side. Another little whimper.

He clears his throat again. And looks up. "Okay. You do you. It's cool. Um. How big of a head? Like, bigger than the ass I brought you? Maybe five times as big?"

Captain America has posed:
Those broad shoulders lift in a small shrug. Tugging his mouth to one side, Steve softens the gesture to something more empathetic than dismissive. "Kind of a spur of the moment thing with my work, Wade, sorry." He waits until he has eye contact with the Merc again before continuing.

"About the size of a small car, 'nd I don't //think// it's a whole head. Those things are monstrous. Smaller than the...the ass you brought me," he says after a moment to compose himself in his mirrored wording. "You seen anything like it anyplace else around here? Either in or around New York?"

Deadpool has posed:
"Other than the one that exploded?" Wade asks, patting down his pocket to pull his phone out. It's got a lot of stickers on it, including Kirby eating a giant toilet and shitting rainbows nearby. Nearby, not into the toilet. Since he's eating the toilet.

"Ummmmm yeah. This." Wade comes around as if he were going to take a selfie, to share the video with his friend. He pushes play. It's a video of the Mold flying out of the factory, people in the foreground screaming and running away. The video continues, to follow it as it flies, an enormous monster, until it is a speck -- and then it explodes, in the far distance.

"I heard the um, 'Friends of Humanity' have one," Wade supplies. "They stole it. Kind of impressive, for crazy zealots. I think maybe /it/ stole them."

Captain America has posed:
The video plays out. Steve frowns and folds his arms as he watches, marking where the factory is by its surroundings as well as the result of the Sentinel mold's escape from its confines. A slow nod confirms his knowledge of Natasha's hand in its demise -- thank god.

The news about the other mold has Steve orienting hard on Wade now, his face smoothing in stillness. "Right now?" he asks. "The 'Friends of Humanity' have one right now? Does Xavier's school know?"

Deadpool has posed:
Wade looks a bit surprised. "I mean. I think so. The Friends aren't quiet about it, marching around and attacking people," Wade answers. "I can check. I do still want a French dip. Not to devalue the conversation at all," Wade adds quickly.

"I would be like eighty-nine percent sure they know they have sentinels." Wade goes back to his phone. "I'm not really on their communications or bulletin board systems entirely. Just like half."

Captain America has posed:
"I believe you." Apparently about everything. Running a palm down his face, the Captain then continues the game of start-and-stop across the length of the foyer in a walk momentarily unthinking in its speed. The doors help in slowing him down by dint of being closed. "Thank you, Wade, I appreciate you confirming these things for me. Just...makes it more clear that it's about time to do something."

After they've exited the door, Steve has to momentarily call down the security drones to allow safe passage across the lawn to the side gate. He locks it up behind him with voice and thumbprint to the reader. "Did you still want to go to the Sandwich City place or did you find somewhere else on your phone?" By his mildly distracted air, it's apparent that Steve doesn't care where they go at this point.

Deadpool has posed:
"I still want your choice! Sandwich! I was looking at ....something else," Wade says, managing to censor exactly what he was looking at. Just this once. For Steve. The threads of lucid may not last too much longer, by the little waggle of phone that follows.

He slips the phone away and bounces on his heels, looking towards where Steve is looking. Clearly, Wade expects Steve to lead to the food place. "What's the next serious question? You should ask me while I'm focused. I'm not always focused," Wade says, with a confidential tone, attempting to loop an arm over Steve's shoulders, other hand coming up to pat at Steve's upper bicep. It's a 'pals' move, overly friendly maybe, but nothing else.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's eyes flick from the phone brandished in his direction and back to the Merc's face. The motion seems to bring him more to the present, rather than letting him disappear half into his personal machinations. A glance towards the distant presence of the sandwich shop is where Wade's attention will momentarily be guided to before the sling of his arm lands across the breadth of the super-soldier's shoulders. It'll be a bit of a stretch for the Merc.

"Uh." The amiable move also has Steve sidetracked enough for him to need to collect his thoughts. His hands go back into the pockets of his pants.

Deadpool has posed:
"Wow, I thought to make you speechless, I'd have to include tongue," Wade teases, with another pat, and then releasing the other man. "Come on then," Wade says, with a rather empathetic gentle quality. He can be kind to the golden laboradoodle or whatever the hell kind of doggo Steve is.

"Or did you forget your other questions?" Wade teases.

Captain America has posed:
Wade gets the pinked ears in spades and a flat smirk from the Captain. He rolls his true-blue eyes and gets to walking, apparently intending to leave the entire incident behind by the gates. "No, didn't forget. Just...wondering about whether or not it'll be drawing you into more trouble than I mean to."

He leaves the thought to hang for about a dozen steps or so down the sidewalk. His profile is on display as he muses, attention drifting about the street and its occupants, from pedestrians to traffic, all with the hard-earned habits of an active soldier. "Do me a favor, Wade. Help Xaviers as much as you can. Take down the one sitting with 'Friends' if you can."

Deadpool has posed:
"Not.... on an empty stomach," Wade grins, walking along the red painted curb edge as if reluctant to walk on the actual sidewalk, preferring to balance. His balance is overly good, but he still puts his hands out wide as if he were on a tightrope.

"But sure. You betcha. Robot bigger than a hotel, no problem. Pew pew." Wade turns to tightrope /backwards/ but flashes a wink. "Also, I looooove trouble. It isn't my middle name --- that's Winston, which includes a WIN-- so never feel badly."