10138/Thanksgiving Pedicure

Thanksgiving Pedicure
Date of Scene:	21 November 2019
Location:	Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Janet and Steve plan some holiday fun in the comfort of quiet domesticity.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
It's a picture of cozy domestic bliss. Janet and Steve are sitting in her penthouse on the sofa. The night sky mutes the stars and brings out the glow of the cityscape below. There are no great crises to resolve and the attack from last year has been so thoroughly repaired that only a keen artisan eye would spot the places where robots had torn half the roof off her house. Save for a little macabre humor-- Janet's framed two of the smaller impact blast points in the wall as a testament to the day she was kidnapped.

The fashionista's from the office it seems, in a black pencil skirt that comes to midthigh and a half-open white silk blouse. Her rounded calves rest on Steve's thighs.

"Gah!" Janet twitches and looks up from her tablet computer to scowl at Steve with a total lack of actual ire. "If you're gonna do that, stop tickling me!" she protests. Her eyes dance, contrary to a feigned scowl. Half-painted toes wriggle below a bright red solution of nail polish in Steve's hands. "Or at least wait until the polish dries." She flaps her hand at her feet in a futile attempt to accelerate the curing process.

Captain America has posed:
"I can't help it if your feet are delicate little things prone to twitching at an errant breeze," the blond man fires back. The black-bristled brush still has a clinging drop of cheerily-red polish on it where it lingers over the left big toenail. This particular nail is pristine, not yet touched, and he's got the nail polish jar curled up in the opposite hand. Carefully, given two fingers are taken in keeping the jar from spilling, he's got a light hold on her foot with the other fingers.

Steve adds, "Be sad if you ended up spilling the jar because you wiggle like a flapper in a speakeasy." His smile is fond despite his tease. It'd be no big deal to him to lose a pair of jeans to a few drops of polish -- more like it's a lovely shade of high-quality polish that'd be a shame to dump. The brush settles on her toenail and with an artist's attention to detail, he colors it evenly.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"You forgot to say 'cute', honey," Janet chivvies Steve. "My feet are always cute and I need to be reminded of it often."

But she does still herself obligignly so Steve can continue his work. In truth he does have that artistic touch and the polish is settlign out remarkably smoothly, and requiring considerably less hamstring-cramping contortion to apply. "And don't spill that jar. That's a hundred and fifty bucks worth of polish and this is a Erez Pana original sofa," she advises him. "He'd *kill* me if it got stained and I'd have to fly him from Israel to get it fixed."

Nevermind that Janet's sofa isn't exactly a pristine piece of furniture anymore. The tablet's set facedown on her belly and Janet cradles it in her arms to look at Steve's profile. "Hey, on funner topics-- what do you want to do for Thanksgiving?" she enquires. "I mean, if you want to do something. I guess neither of us really have any family to visit. All mine are dreadful Eurotrash, I haven't spoken to them in years. Should we-- I mean, do /we/ want to do something? Or host something, even?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve glances up from painting the second-to-last toenail and obligingly screws the lid on the nail polish, just in case their discussion continues to be distracting enough that he needs to set the small jar aside on the coffee table. He looks to one side, sighs, and replies thoughtfully,

"Don't really have any family other'n Buck, 'nd he'd want to be involved somehow, I think. Mean, I'd have to check with him to be sure. He's not one for large gatherings." His eyes rise to her face. "We always do something at the mansion. SHIELD might throw some small gathering." A pause and there's a twitch of a smile on his lips that disappears about as fast as it arrives.

"D'you...want me to meet your family?"

Of course, this offering comes with the ritual tentativeness that comes of 'meeting your SO's parents'.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet shudders, a motion constrained solely to her head and shoulders. "God no," she assures him. "I told you. My family's all old world money and we split off from the Dutch van Dynes almost four hundred years ago. We're related, but it's real, real distant. Once every twenty years I guess there's some family reunion in the Netherlands. I was there with my daddy about... I think I was five, or so. I saw my cousins once or twice while I was at boarding school but nothing really clicked. We're only related by name."

"But, if I *had* family, I'd want you to meet them," Janet assures Steve with her warmest smile. "I love you and I want everyone to know it."

"Don't think you're off the hook, though. I've got a college reunion coming up and you're gonna be there." She lifts her tablet again. "I've got some exes who really cheesed me off and I'd just love to rub their noses in it," she points out.

Captain America has posed:
Vehemence in Janet's words manages to entice the slightest tilt out of Steve's head, as if to silently ask for further explanation she does deliver to him. He returns her smile and gives her foot a gentle squeeze along with a little shake.

Acoustics in the living space means his sudden laugh echoes back on itself in true humor. "Really? Rubbing noses in the fact that you're dating me? Thought they'd be humbled by your business acumen 'nd your multi-million, cross-continent, successful fashion line. Or did you have questionable taste...?"

He lifts an eyebrow teasingly.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Multi- /billion/," Janet rebukes Steve, tartly. "JVD is in the Forbes 500, you know." The very idea that it's 'merely' a multi-million dollar business seems to offend and wound Janet. "I went to one of the most prestigious prep schools in the world. I got invited to Cambridge /and/ Harvard. I only went to ESU because Hank and I were doing the hero thing and I didn't want to relocate to Massachusetts."

"So I'm -very- comfortable with who I am, and what I've done. And most of the people I went to school with are CEOs or entrepreneurs or the like. They all run very successful businsses or are high-level political types. But ~Iiii~'ve got the one thing money can't buy." She leans forward with a limber dexterity and kisses Steve's cheekbone. "And he's all mine, /and/ he's not done with my nails."

Janet leasn back against the sofa arm. "Anyway. Thanksgiving. What if we did two dinners?" she suggests. "We could do our usual public affairs one, I mean, you know. Down at the soup kitchens. But we should do an Avenger's family dinner. It's not like Tony or Wanda have a lot of living relatives," she observes.

Captain America has posed:
"Wanda's got Pietro 'nd Tony's got Pepper," the Captain notes even as he casts a short shadow over the fashionista's legs in order to reach for the bottle of nail polish. The kiss lingers cool on his cheek as he unscrews the cap, intent on finishing the rest of her foot in one fell swoop of sweeps of red polish.

"But yes, something at the Mansion, after we figure out which soup kitchens to visit this year. Might get approached for being in the Macy's parade, remember that," he reminds Janet with a note of distraction in his voice. His focus is on painting the small space of toenails now. He keeps speaking regardless. "'s'true though, nobody can buy me -- mixed up my monetary amounts earlier. 'Million' used to be about as jaw-breaking as 'billion' back when."

Regardless of whether or not Janet's foot twitches away as he blows gently on the polish, her toes are all done. The cap gets screwed on the bottle and set out of immediate reach of accidental swat on the coffee table once more.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh god, poor Pepper," Janet says, expressing dismay in her tone of voice. She giggles and squirms at the sensation of cool air on her bare feet. "Can you imagine? Trying to cook a Thanksgiving meal for Tony on her own? The two of them sitting on opposite ends of some twenty-foot table with people scurrying around with ladles of gravy?"

Her eyes brighten and she scootches forward so she's nearly sitting in Steve's lap, and gives him a patented and Devastatingly Effective look of winsome supplication. "C'mon, how fun would it be to have all of us at the Mansion for a Thanksgiving meal?" she begs. A finger traces up and down Steve's bicep. "You'd get to carve the turkey," she wheedles. "And I'm sure we could find /someone/ who could do some cooking for us. I could see about hiring the staff at Le Cirque or Royal 35 for the day," she suggests. "Bring them all to the mansion, offer double overtime, sign some autographs, they'd be all over it. Pleaaaaase?"

Captain America has posed:
"I can actually imagine this happening at Stark Tower, yes," Steve chuckles as he leans back comfortably into the couch now. His palms gently rest on her shins and the graceful lines of leg get a gentle patpat before she's wiggling up into his lap. Hands lifted end up one on her knee and one at the small of her back, to keep Janet from toppling off the span of his thighs. Wheat-gold eyebrows lift at the expression leveled at him.

"...mean, don't see why not." It didn't take much, apparently, to topple the Captain into agreement. "If you think the staff of those locations would be interested in catering for us, sure. Lotta mouths to feed 'nd some of those mouths are huge," he reminds the Wasp with a half-smile. Of course Steve is nominating himself in this collective. "Don't have the carve the turkey if someone else wants to."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Nono, I mean--" Janet's nails convulse on Steve's breastbone and she directs a pointedly smouldering look up at him. "Let's do it properly. It's the -man's- job to carve the turkey up," she says, fairly purring. "We can't choose our family, but we can choose our friends. It'll be so much fun," she wheedles, and presses into Steve's ribs. "And trust me, there's no logistics issue that can't be solved with a check for fifty grand," she informs him. "We'll bring in the whole restaurant for a proper meal. Oh, it'll be fun!" Janet claps her hands and bounces once. "I'll start texting everyone right now to tell them to make plans to be here for Turkey Day. Carol, Rhodey, Tony, Wanda and Pietro, maybe Kitty-- love her, she is just /darling/--" Janet presses a fingertip to her lower lip. "Bucky, Clint... who else?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve's throat works at the gentle drag of nails on his chest. Goosebumps race over him appropriately. His palm rubs up and down her lower back once as he continues listening to the Wasp enthuse on. Lips gently parted in patient pause to his own thoughts on matters eventually end up rising into a lop-sided grin at her eagerness.

"The whole Avengers crew, yes," the Captain echoes of the guest list. "We'll gather 'em as we can. Maybe they could bring a small dish of their own, if they wanted? I bet a few of us have a favorite thing they could share. Won't go far, I know, if the dishes are small, but folks could sample if they wanted along with what the restaurant team provides?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Really, if Janet was slightly less sociopathic, she might feel guilty about manipulating Steve so casually. But she isn't, so she doesn't.

A perfectly arched eyebrow lifts at him with a hefty amount of skepticism. "Really. You want people to bring something they cooked, /themselves/," she remarks, making it more rhetorical statement than question. "I'm pretty sure Carol and Rhodey would bring Army rations. Tony would make Pepper buy a pie from some Chelsea bakery. Clint would bring a half-gutted deer carcass." She counts on her fingers. "Wanda and Pietro are gypsies, so they're probably the only ones who were actually brought up knowing how to cook-- and no, you can NOT make your 'stone soup' for Thanksgiving," she pre-empts Steve. "It's not 1939 anymore. What's the point in hiring an entire restaurant to make a Thanksgiving meal if everyone brings some ..." her tiny nose wrinkles. "Some culinary abortion to dinner? I mean--" A theatrical palm presses to Janet's sternum. "You don't want -me- cooking something," she reminds him.

It's true. Janet's last foray into culinary experimentation almost resulted in permanent smoke damage to her penthouse.

Captain America has posed:
Those eyebrows flick even as Steve arranges his face into something profusely innocent.

"Don't think //you// should be cooking something. It took some serious scrubbing to get the smoke from the ceiling. Remember me up on the ladder?" he asks.

"Besides, let the others bring something if they wish. It won't be a requirement. If something wants to bring something, they can." He gives her lower back another gentle rub, up and down, and maintains the facade. Fond laughter twinkles in his eyes regardless. "The restaurant won't be offended 'nd if they are, they can speak to me."

And regret the perfectly-polite, vaguely disappointed dressing-down Steve will give them.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's back arches slightly into that touch and her faintly shadowed eyes lid at the touch. A note that sounds like sincerely feigned complaint escapes her throat. "...Fine," she concedes, grudgingly. Mostly because between Steve's kind-heartedness, his simple logic, and that touch to her lower back, she can't really muster a cogent objection.

"I'm not gonna be a tyrant about it. Oh, this'll be fun!" she exclaims, and flings her arms around Steve's neck for an enthusiastic and grateful hug. "Everyone's gonna love it. But the soup kitchen, that's still on," she reminds him at arm's length. "I think that's a great tradition. And it's really good publicity for the Avenger's. Last time we did it, donations got so out of hand that they were able to open up a whole new shelter crosstown. I think it's because Tony doesn't like getting his hands dirty," she says with a wrinkle of her button nose. "He just starts throwing cash at people. Like it's so hard to serve up spaghetti."

Captain America has posed:
Laughing quietly, the Captain wraps her up in his arms. He's radiantly warm beneath his plain tee shirt and the hold about her is firm and comfortable rather than containing. A nod confirms the soup kitchen as he holds her gemstone-green eyes.

"Well...Tony helps in his way." Eyebrows lift as if to argue the very basic point. "Once the soup kitchen's scheduled, we'll bring the team in on it. People can use all the help they can get this time of year. Means a lot when someone is able to hand you a plate of warm food." His smile goes quieter and more knowing, as if he had memories attached to such a concept dating far back into his earlier years.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet curls into Steve reflexively. There are few people better capable of defending themselves than an Avenger, particularly one with Janet's skillset. But Steve exudes a sense of protective warmth that's absolutely undeniable, and she basks in it like wrapping herself in a warm blanket.

"It's a good thing. For all of us," she agrees. "I like projects where everyone wins." She nuzzles under Steve's chin and leans into him. She sighs, a drowsy little sound of utter contentment. "It's gonna be a year since I came back to the mansion, in a few weeks," she murmurs to Steve. "Remember? You were the first person I saw when I came back." She tilts her head back to look up at him. "Does that count at all towards anniversary points?"

Captain America has posed:
Janet seems to weigh nothing for all her beau carefully adjusts his hug to make himself a perfectly comfortable living pillow. He gently rests his chin on her hair when she cuddles into him further, his own eyes going half-lidded in contentment. The scent of nail polish disappears under the sweetness of the Wasp's perfume and the subtler notes of her hair styling products.

"Year went by fast," Steve agrees in a murmur, tucking his chin to look down at Janet. "It does count as anniversary points -- beat me to mentioning it. That the year went so fast means we must be doing something right, hmm?" How soft his eyes are.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I suppose. I say we give it another four or five years before we decide anything official," Janet murmurs. She cozies up against Steve then stirs, stretching in place like a housecat. "At the risk of sounding /boringly/ domestic, I think I'm about ready to call it a night," she informs Steve. The fashionista remains curled against him. "I'm sure by the time you carry me upstairs, my nail polish will be dry. I'd walk, but--" she gestures vaguely at her bare feet. "I don't want to undo all your hard work."

Captain America has posed:
"Magnanimous of you, sparing my effort and your carpet," the Captain says with a wry note of amusement. There's some minute adjustments to be made with his arms and then, with little effort, he rises to his feet with Janet gathered up in his arms as if in a sling.

"Let's get you to bed then, my petite chouchou," he continues as he walks towards the stairs, making his strides smooth as to not jostle her further.

At least until with a few motions, she's slung over his shoulder on her stomach, her view of the living room downstairs and the Captain's pert hind-end. His forearm wraps about Janet's shins to keep her knees bent and to spare the drying nail polish.

What a gentleman.

"There we go, now it won't smudge at all."