10950/Surviving Infinity: Why Does My Mouth Taste Like This

Surviving Infinity: Why Does My Mouth Taste Like This
Date of Scene:	01 February 2020
Location:	Medical, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Home-sweet-gurney. Janet makes sure that Steve is as comfortable as can be managed in medbay purgatory.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)
Tinyplot:	Surviving Infinity

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Captain America has posed:
It has been a long few weeks and Captain Rogers' state of being showcases this in spades. Normally of a classical muscular build, one can see where the chronic lack of calories meant his serum-fueled metabolism began to eat muscle after it chewed through what little fat remained on him. A near-full beard lines his jaw and his hair hasn't been thoroughly cleaned. Interestingly enough, upon arrival, the remnants of his dress-suit from the New Year's Eve part appeared to be ragged but fairly clean.

Now, with an oxygen mask over his face and a blanket or three overtop his gown-clad body, Steve's propped up and resting in a private room within the Avenger's medbay. Intravenous fluids pump from a bag hung off to one side of the gurney. He's still unconscious propped up again a mounding of pillows, but Doctor Banner assured all that rest was necessary and that Steve would come out of it of his own accord. After all, the Avenger is tougher than he appears even at a glance.

And come out of it, he does. Fingers atop the blanket twitch first before he turns his head on the pillows. There's a quiet groan to leave him before he scrunches his eyes and peers around the room.

"...ohthankgod, 'm home," he breathes mostly to himself.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet stirs, curled up next to Steve on the arm not plugged with IV catheters. She's changed and cleaned since their excursion to Knowhere; a simple and rather modest wrap dress in rose pink, tied with a bow near her left hip.

"Baby," she soothes, and props herself up. She blinks owlishly, pushing slightly longer-than-normal bangs back from her face; her hair's grown out in the last month, curling at the nape of her neck. "You're home. It's OK," she soothes him. Fingers touch his chest and neck under his clean, thin scrubs, with a reassurance tempered by fear of overwhelming him. She sits up on her hip to reach for a canister on the little rolling stand, and carefully helps Steve remove his mask and replace it with an oxygen tube for his nose. "Are you hungry? Hank said you're at a huge caloric deficit. It's just a chocolate protein shake, it's nothing really amazing," she apologizes, but offers it to him all the same.

Captain America has posed:
Another hard squint and blink at the person talking to him clears his vision. That face blows away the rest of the muzzy confusion of awakening and he smiles lopsidedly at the petite brunette.

"'s'okay, yeah, 'm home," he murmurs. The arm she was resting up curls up around to flop about her waist as best he can manage. He's patient for the adjustment of the nasal cannula before he leans back onto the pillow again.

"It'll probably taste like heaven. 'll take it, please." Reaching for it, he sips at the straw inserted into it and smacks his lips. "Tastes like heaven. I'd kiss you, <<Seillean>>, but m'mouth tasted like I'd licked the underside of a car in a Brooklyn parts garage in July. Don't think the chocolate shake's gonna make much difference." His grin is still all dimples for the Wasp. With his free hand, he reaches up to brush at the hair grown longer from her forehead. "This's not half-bad," he murmurs, smiling into her eyes, and further teases, "You on strike 'bout something with the length?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Huh?" Janet touches her bangs, then laughs. "Oh gosh, I'm overdue for a trim. I don't know," she says, with a self-conscious shrug, and smiles. "I usually get it styled once a week. You like it?" With a pleased bit of self-consciousness, she touches the curling length at the base of her neck, then lets her hands drop.

Between sips, she leans down and kisses Steve's lips with a gentle but firm touch. She yields to his sense of hygiene, however, and keeps it relatively chaste. "Mm, all I got from that was Brooklyn chocolaterie," she assures him, and pats his cheek fondly.

She gets to her feet carefully while he sups and moves to check his drips and feeds. "Hank said the infection's gone already. Just the symptoms left," she tells Steve. "That body heat burned it off pretty fast."

Fingernails rake against his scruffy beard and she giggles. "I've never seen you with a beard. And your hair's all scraggly. You look like a mountain man, soldier boy," she teases.

Captain America has posed:
"It's cute," murmurs Steve before he brings his hand down from brushing at the longer hair. He does take another long sip of the chocolate protein shake and by the lift of his eyebrows, he's shocked that Janet dared to try the kiss after all!

"Think you're being polite." The blond still laughs and lays back harder into the pillow. Now the protein shake is tucked against his side rather than fully held. His eyes travel over the Wasp and her fussings with the medical technology; the sweet familiarity of her movements is something he finds sets his heart to tumbling for a short few seconds. Absurdly, the wish to dance with her takes him by the heartstrings and only logic (along with a reminder that he does want another nap soon enough) keeps him on the gurney.

When she turns back to fuss too at his scruff, the Captain smirks wryly. "'m not keeping it, Shortcakes. It itches something awful 'nd it's been full of space mites." His eyebrows jump a few times in ludicrous mockery of the attractiveness of the state of his beard and hair -- or rather, the opposite. "Can't wait to get it off 'nd my hair under control."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Not anymore," Janet assures Steve. She's constantly touching him in small ways; fingers lingering on his wrist, his shoulders, as if reassuring herself that he's not going to disappear again. His shield's even propped in a corner along with the antique radio from his apartment, as if she's trying to give him some of the comforts of home.

"You were hosed down, de-loused, and given a UV bath. They burned your tux. That's *another* suit of mine you ruined." She makes adjustments to his hospital bed to help him get propped up, and fusses with his pillows to get them set behind his shoulders.

"Try not to wolf all that down too fast, you'll get sick. Do you need another warm blanket or something?" she offers, unable to hide concern for his wellbeing. "Or more pillows?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve takes the news of being hosed down in good stride. He nods and tips back another swig of the protein shake. "Glad I was unconscious for the hose-down 'nd de-lousing." A quick look at the back of his hand and arm proves that even if the UV did given him a light tan, it was temporary at best. He murmurs little thanks here and there and his expression is one of gratitude for the realignment of his back against the pillows.

His lips wrinkle in frustration at the reminder about not bolting the protein drink. It brings a balance of humanity to his mildly more gaunt features. "'m still hungry..." His stomach growls as if to accent the petulant mumble down at the mostly-empty glass. "...but you're right. Don't want it coming back up again. What I need is you, right here," and the Captain patpats the place where Janet was originally curled against him. "'cause 'm gonna tell you about what happened 'nd you're gonna laugh about it. C'mere." His half-smile dimples at the brunette once more cajolingly.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet gathers her skirt up and clambers back into the bed, insinuating herself against Steve's side with a wriggle. A beaming smile crosses her face at his invitation, likely the first real smile she's had on her features for most of a month. One elbow props against the pillows to support her head on her palm, and she curls a knee over his hipbone for balance.

"I want to hear everything. We all thought you two and Carol 'n Rogue all went to the same place," she tells him. "It was kind of a surprise when the girls came back without you. Were you and Tony together the whole time, or did you find each other, too?"

Captain America has posed:
Finishing the protein shake, Steve reaches to put the empty glass aside on the nearby table before he shoulders back farther into the pillows. His back twinges where the alien taster made contact, but it's a quick wince that is quickly replaced by a thoughtful surprise at Janet's news.

"They made it back? -- a while ago, I bet," the Captain concedes with a little nod to himself. "Yes, didn't separate from Tony as much as I could manage. We arrived at the same place at the same time, took a bit of that sound system with us too. Turns out the portals were set to prison cells, bit like animal traps. Felt like we'd arrived into a mouse cage. Tony'd hit his head pretty hard too even before he went in. I'd half-dug a hole beneath the cell's forcefield door before he came to. Turns out that bit of extra wiring came in handy."

Steve makes sure his arm tucked around Janet's back is comfortable before continuing. "Tony rigged it from his arc reactor to that single glove from the suit he had, made a make-shift...crawling... It looked a lot like a robotic Thing from that old monsters show, with the family -- the Addams Family. Walked the gauntlet out beneath the forcefield 'nd pushed the button. Presto: rats out of the cage."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"If it makes you feel any better, I left Mikonia in her cell with a nest full of bed lice and fire ants," Janet interrupts Steve. "Natasha and Jessica are still trying to get her to talk. She's pretty hardcore," Janet concedes. "I figured if nothing else, I could make things miserable for her."

Steve's arm settles around her waist but she wriggles out and starts fussing with the sink. The basin's filled with steaming hot water and she gets out a pair of white towels.

"So you were in the prison for-- a few days? A week?" she prompts. "And then Tony picks the lock to the door. Where'd you two end up after that?"

Captain America has posed:
Even if he doesn't like the Khundian warrior, with her connections to Thanos and the amount of agony she left in the wake of her attempt to garner a Stone, the Captain winces. Yikes: fire ants. He'd take the bed lice.

While Janet's fussing at the sink does earn her a curious few glances, the man does continue his explanation after being prompted. "Not for more'n a day at best, I think. Didn't want to linger there, not in a cage. Turns out the cage was in a bunker deep in a forest. It was pristine -- nobody around for miles. Well," and Steve huffs a rueful laugh. "Not at first. Didn't think there was anybody, but there was. Between us, we figured out how to create fires 'nd make some beds out of the plantlife. There were some roots here 'nd there -- I tested 'em at first to make sure Tony could eat 'em 'nd not lose his guts out either end -- 'nd about a week in, the locals contacted us. They looked like..."

Steve muses. "...take a flat-faced cat 'nd walking teddy bears 'nd give 'em rudimentary weaponry. Talked like if a cat could talk, not friendly at first. Tony scared 'em with his gauntlet. I won one over with a piece of dried fruit Tony'd given me that I was saving for emergencies. They ended up..." Here, the man rubs a hand down the side of his face. "...ended up treating us like gods. Something about my lucky hair-color 'nd Tony's gauntlet. Took us back to their village. We stayed there a week or two. Food wasn't...too bad." Steve still pulls a face. "Slugs tasted like pickles."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Boy scout," Janet teases Steve. "Making fire with a couple of sticks rubbing together. I'm glad you were there with Tony, I'm sure he would have starved to death trying to invent a way to distill roots into martinis." She's still laughing at the comment about being treated like deities, shaking her head. "So, pickles and worship by furries. I guess it could have been worse. They didn't try to eat you, did they?"

She moves to Steve's bed and sets a bowl, towels, and his toiletry kit on the little rolling table. Janet carefully wriggles until she's straddling Steve's lap. She minds the cables, cords, and IV drips, and starts wiping his bristling beard down with a gentle touch and the warm, damp cloth in her hands.

"This beard's coming off," she informs him. "It's like kissing a hay bale."

The fashionista digs out some shaving cream and starts applying it to his cheeks and chin with the little badger-hair brush in his kit. "Okay. Couple weeks with the slug-eating kitty cats. Did you make any friends before you guys moved on?"

Captain America has posed:
It's when the toiletry kit appears that Steve realizes and the jig is up: the beard is coming off. He arranges his limbs all the better to stay out of the way of the fashionista's knees on either side of his lean hips. While she works warm water into the bristly scruff, he continues talking with attempt to minimally move his jaw about.

"Can't imagine what it'd be like kissing me," he admits in droll humor. "Made friends with 'em, yeah. You never got to see the feather crown they made me. Pretty thing, yellow and green and red feathers. Some of the younger ones put it together 'nd gave it to me at breakfast one morning. Tony 'nd I finally decided, after a while, that they weren't gonna get the idea of taking us to any space port on the planet, so I drew a buncha basic designs for them. A space ship, arrows, buildings. They were kind enough to show us to the nearest place, though it was a hike." He gives Janet a look. "Next time there's a risk of an alien invader showing up, 'm wearing my combat boots with my suit. Deal?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"If I see you with combat boots and a tux, I'm going to dump you on the sidewalk and tell the tabloids how you broke my heart and done me wrong," Janet coos at Steve. "If you'd just let me take you to a good cobbler, you could have nice formal shoes that are as sturdy as any combat boot," she huffs. A wet towel's slung around his neck to catch any drippings. "I'll make an appointment with Giuseppe for you to get fitted for something that'll look good in a tux," she assures him, while rummaging around in the kit.

Before he can interrupt she twists back, and unfolds the straight razor in front of his face with a *click*. "-And- they'll be suitable for long overland walks," she says, pre-empting his predictable objection.

"Let's be real though, honey, in our line of work we're at risk of alien invasion on our way to the opera. Try not to fidget too much." She braces her finger and thumb against his forehead to hold him still and carefully scrapes away a layer of beard and shaving cream.

"So these... primitive felines got you two to a spaceport. How'd you make it to Knowhere? Hijack a ship, or did Tony build something out of coconuts and refined sugars?"

Captain America has posed:
Janet does, in fact, head off the predictable objection with the gleaming appearance of the straight razor from the shaving kit. Steve blinks. She gets a flatly-amused look and a long-suffering sigh before tilting his head appropriately for the first run of the tool.

"First of all, it'll be you dumping me if you stick me in another pair of dress shoes before I get used to being on Terra again," he grumps mildly. "'nd why would we be at the opera? Rather go to a musical." It must be the low blood sugar speaking at this point. Steve's body burnt through that protein shake like chaff thrown to a wildfire. "'nyways, 's'not what you asked. Had to fight a couple of alien guards like the one who must've gotten to me -- red-skined, dark hair, like that Mikonia. We got lucky. Turns out the Guardians were after a bounty for a pair of 'Terran slanderers'."

Janet gets a significantly dry look: of course, Tony was involved.

"Thought for a bit that Tony would do something outrageous, like...roping a pair of sea-turtles using braided hair from his back or something, but the scuffle wasn't too bad. Guardians decided to not turn us in. Flew to Knowhere 'nd...well." He turns up his palms on the blankets. "You all found us. Dunno what we got sick from exactly, but I hope Tony's okay. He's stable, at least?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"He's running a high fever, but Hank says there's no sign of encephalitis, which is the real killer there. He's gonna be down for a few days," Janet explains. "Tony only has a few virtues, and one of them is not our improved metabolism. I'm surprised you even *got* sick. I haven't had so much as a cold since I was seventeen."

She falls quiet to focus on the pass of the razor, and pauses to reapply some more lather; there's a lot of scraggly beard to scrape clear, and she's being painstakingly careful not to so much as redden Steve's skin.

"The Guardians, they're an... interesting bunch. Of everything I expected to hear, Whitney Houston was not one of them. Who expects classical soul music in deep space, right?" she says with a wry smile.

"'nyway." Her rhetorical statements' waved off with a careless flicker of the blade in her hands. As if reading Steve's mind, she leans over and reaches for another shake set aside for him. In all liklihood, Bruce did the math down to the kilocalorie for how much food Steve would need to consume in the next 48 hours. She holds the straw up to his lips so he can get a few gulps, then sets it aside again. "I, meanwhile, discovered I cannot sleep at all when you're gone. Your bed sucks, it's all lumpy and I roll into the dent you left in it," she informs him. "I've been living off adderall, White Claw, and nutri-grain bars. It's all I could keep down. I feel like I could eat a horse and then sleep for a week."

Captain America has posed:
"'s'why 'm worried about him," the super-soldier agrees. "He's tough as cordwood, but if it made me sick, it'll take a chunk outta him. 'm glad Hank's got him stabilized. I remember being sick like that. Wouldn't wish it on anybody."

The man is grateful for the sips of more protein shake. His shoulders drop minutely in pure relief. Already, his body begins working to put those calories where they're best needed. His eyes follow the gesturing blade and he smiles faintly. This too, he missed -- the rampant talking with hands. "Maybe you should eat a bit less than a whole horse 'nd sleep for a day or two 'nd see how things pan out? There's the guest cot there, if you wanted." While Janet's wiping the blade clear of beard-hair and lather, he nods off to one side. It's a contraption that folds out of the wall and while not the most comfortable, it would allow the fashionista to be nearby.

Still, his true-blues find and hold Janet's own. "<<Seillean>>, you were strong enough. Rest now, 'm home," he says very gently.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet looks at Steve with a fond, almost abashed smile. It's a surprisingly girlish expression, and her knees grip his hips minutely while she rests a palm against his sternum for balance. The nodding gets an index finger under his chin, which she slowly elevates. "Careful. This is the tricky part," Janet reminds him. The blade's turned over and she scrapes away the last of the scruff, drawing the silvered steel up from his adam's apple and then off the edge of his round chin. The blade rings with a hollow, satisfied noise, and she rinses it off before setting it out to dry.

The other towel's retrieved and she wipes Steve's face down with a tender touch, staring into his eyes the whole time. "I'll stay here as long as you need me," she promises him. The towel's wiped down from his brow to his neck, clearing the last of it away, and a beaming smile crosses her face. "That is *much* better," she tells Steve, and runs her fingertips along his cheekbones. "Though the hair's not bad actually. Longer like this. A little styling, a little gel-- I think it'd work for me."

Captain America has posed:
Steve remains very, very still for this trickiest part. He's never informed the Wasp of his own troubles with knives stemming back in World War II and for a very short second, the sensory memory of blood haunts him. But -- he's grounded in the present by her presence indeed and the gleam of the final stroke means he's free of the itchy scruff. It feels a thing of wonder to have his skin clear of it and the warmly-damp towel sets his skin to tingling.

He grins now with dimples on full display sans facial hair and leans slightly to one side into Janet's palm. "You think 'm gonna get into gels 'nd hair grease? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll think about it. For now, it's getting a cut when 'm free from medbay purgatory." He reaches up to fuss with the nasal cannula for a second before leaning back into the pillows.

"'nd 'm sorry, <<Seillean>>, but m'body's telling me it's time for another nap. Better listen to it. Nap with me?" Again, the super-soldier patpats at the bedding beside himself.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Told you, honey. I'm not going anywhere," Janet assures Steve. She takes just a few moments to tidy up; rinses the blade with alcohol so it won't rust, and carefully repacks Steve's toilette the way she found it. Once that's all done she fusses with the bed to find him a comfortable angle to recline, then arranges his pillows and blankets so he's warmly covered. With a last one for herself, Janet steps out of her heels and climbs into the bed next to Steve. She curls into the crook of his arm like a cat in a familiar hammock, and touches his face with gentle adoration. "I love you, baby," she reminds him. "Tell me if you need anything. Okay?"

She kisses his newly-shaved cheek and then burrows into his side once more, wrapping a hospital blanket around her shoulders.

Despite Steve's insistence he's the one that's tired, Janet in fact falls asleep almost faster than the good Captain does.