569/I don't think we're in the lobby of the Triskelion anymore

I don't think we're in the lobby of the Triskelion anymore
Date of Scene:	23 May 2017
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Wade and Natasha take a leap, agreeing to be honest with each other if they are going to have any sort of relationship.
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Black Widow (Romanoff)

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Deadpool has posed:
Restraining order is such an ugly term. Hopefully, that's the last time it'll come up, but knowing our intrepid young hero, if you can call him that, it's bound to come up sp, sooner or later. He was currently testing out his impressive stamina. With his healing factor, he could operate at peak levels for hours, or days, if you were to believe the bio he uploaded to Wikipedia about himself. But he had stayed up all night, while Natasha had slept against him.

During the course of the night, he had draped his coat over her as if it were a blanket. He was resting his hand over her, comforting her. Surprisingly, he could have chosen to cop a feel, to brush against her breast, through the coat, and her tank top. She was asleep. There was nothing to stop him. So why didn't he? You see, our man Wade has some decency. As crazy as he is, he's got a good core. He didn't take advantage of her. He just protected her and cared for her, providing at first a shoulder for her to lay against, and as she shifted, a lap for her to use as a pillow.

Mercifully for him, she didn't go any further than resting that mess of red hair against his thigh, using the soft plushie mercenary for a pillow. If she had, he probably would have had a reaction he couldn't hide. But as she was sleeping, he was surfing the TV stations, careful to only use his opposing arm. He didn't want to disturb her. He even had it set to subtitles and the audio was off. He was watching something called Cairo Time about an Egyptian who formed a romantic relationship with a married American woman.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha doesn't trust people. There are a handful that may be among that group. As such, she doesn't sleep in the presence of those she doesn't know very well. So in truth, it's kind of a miracle that she ever fell asleep.

She also is a light sleeper. That didn't change. When he covered her with the jacket, she woke although she didn't open her eyes or let her breathing change. His hand resting atop the jacket? Same. If he'd tried something, she probably would've done her best to hurt him. But he didn't. He was a perfect gentleman. So at odds with everything that people think they know. It's a nice surprise for her.

As the night passed, she awoke a bit more fully only to shift and use his thigh as a pillow, curled on her side on the couch, petite enough to fit easily in the space. She should go to bed. She should send him home because she wasn't inviting him to her bed. But no, this was comfortable, she was sleeping well, and why not just take advantage of the situation?

It was kind of nice if she didn't let herself think about it too much.

As morning comes, she slowly opens her eyes to see the tv is on. A surprise since there was no noise. She rolls onto her back, looking up at Wade as she puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. "Mornin'."

Deadpool has posed:
He didn't know that she had woken up several times throughout the night. He just knew that he liked what was going on. Impressively, Wade managed to keep his mouth shut. He only liked to talk for fun. If he was trying to start or carry a conversation, he would. If he wanted to distract, he would. But when alone, he rarely talked, except to himself, and he could just as easily do that in his own head.

One of the voices in his head seemed to be winning out. The more mature one, which wanted him to behave as a gentleman in the hopes he might get to do this again, or more. The movie was pretty good, but when she woke up and rolled onto her back, sending the jacket rolling over and onto the floor, he smiled down at her. He was looking better than last night.

It was hard to tell. Was she just getting used to him, or was he actually healthier than he was last night? In truth, it had changed. He was content. He was happy. And he hadn't done anything to make it hard for his healing factor to combat the cancer. So, he almost looked normal. He just had a slight case of acne, maybe a bit worse than that, but he was fairly normal, especially by his own standards.

"Good morning beautiful. Did you dream about me, our 2.5 kids, and the white picket fence outside... our penthouse apartment? How's rover, or are we cat people?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Her green eyes shift, taking in his changed appearance. It's going to take some getting used to, this change in appearance so often. She's seen him several times now sans mask. Each time, his face has been different. There is no doubting who he is. The face is the same, the bone structure, the eyes. It's just the way the skin alters when the cancer tries to win out before being beaten back only to return. How does he deal with it? Is it painful, she wonders.

She gives a tight smile as she lets her hand drop back down to her side. "I'm not sure any of that would ever fit either one of us," she says with a shake of her head. "Maybe a safehouse with a mini arsenal. I guess there might be dogs but more of the vicious attack type than a fluffy lap poodle." She rolls to her side again, reaching over the edge of the couch to retrieve the jacket she knocked off with her earlier movement. Then a roll to her back and she drapes the jacket over the back of the couch. Only then does she start to sit up.

Deadpool has posed:
He frowns when she sits up. He kind of liked seeing her laying on her back as he got to look down at her petite form. "A safe house you say, with a mini arsenal, vicious attack dogs, and the two of us? Sounds like a plan I could get behind. I think, if you could get used to this," and he gestures towards his face. Evidentially, he doesn't know he's actually looking better than he did last night, "anything is possible. Of course, you getting used to it has about as much chance of Wolverine and I playing bridge together."

He set the remote down on the arm of the chair, and regarded her, trying to read her body language. Was it time for him to hit the road, or, was she considering allowing him to linger a little while longer. He could lose himself in those green eyes of hers. And, he's not sure if that would be a bad thing. His own eyes were blue today. But weren't they brown yesterday? Okay, something's seriously wrong with him. And the understated thought of the year goes to...

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Swinging her feet back down to the floor, Natasha places her left hand on her thigh, testing it gingerly with her fingertips. Yeah, still hurts. The stitches seen to be alright going by feel but she really needs to change the bandages and check everything. She also needs to take her dosage of antibiotics, meant to keep her from getting any sort of infection. As he comments on his face, she looks over at him and examines him carefully again. Okay, the eyes may not be the same. The shape is. "Actually, Wolverine is an excellent bridge player," she says as she puts down her right hand on the seat as she stands ever so carefully. She puts her weight on her right foot. She puts her left foot on the floor and transfers her weight to that side, taking her time in case it doesn't hold. The wound protests, sending pain through her leg, radiating up her hip. It's unpleasant but she's dealt with worse. And she's not going to let him see it bothers her. Damn pride.

"I need to go to the bathroom, take a shower, clean this thing off," she motions to her thigh. "Then get something for breakfast as my meds have to be taken with food." She glances down at him from her standing position. "If you want to go, you know the way out." Since he got in on his own. "Or you can stay and watch...whatever that is."

Deadpool has posed:
Deadpool is a combat veteran. He was one before he became Deadpool. And he knows when someone's in pain. In fact, he's excellent at seeing weaknesses, and using them to his advantage, when he isn't too busy distracting himself with his antics. For someone as loony as he is, there's a surprising core in there of common sense and observation.

He gets up when she does. Long ago, his mother and father taught him it was polite to rise when a woman does, or enters the room, or maybe he just saw it on an episode of Downton Abbey, but either way, he does. "Why Natasha, aren't we promiscuous. And this isn't even the third date, or, wait, first time was in my apartment, second time in yours, so actually, hey, this might be the third date. Or am I mixing that up with a rerun of Three Company I watched while you were sleeping?"

He looks her up and down, and would very much like to shower with her. She could scrum off all the dead skin, just like every 96 year old girl dreams of. "Go, sit on the toilet, stand up, whatever you do, get yourself clean, but when you're dressed, I want you to call me so I can fit you with some new bandages. I can get into the nooks and cranies that are awkward. Doctor Deadpool's orders. And... while you're showering, I'll see if I can rustle us up some breakfast for your medication? Any psychedelics I might want to try?" As if he needed psychedelic medication.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natashs just rolls her eyes at the third date bit, turning and making her way toward her bedroom. Her gait is almost normal, despite the pain she's in. But he'd notice that little hitch in her getuupandgo. "You don't need to make breakfast. I'm not a child in need of someone to watch over me. Hell, I'm old enough to be your great grandmother, I think. I'm quite capable of bandaging my own wounds so you can just get that out of your head too."

She pauses at the hallway that leads off to the bedrooms, glancing back over her shoulder at him. "I don't think you need any drugs, even if you were being serious. But there are pain meds in the kitchen. You can save them for some other time." She knows he, like her, tends to get injured but he relies on a healing factor instead of doctors. Painkillers might be something that would be useful for him to have stockpiled.

With that, she turns away and heads down the hall.

Deadpool has posed:
"No, I don't need to make you breakfast. I could leave you and be on my merry way, knowing that your life would go on. You'd heal, you'd get better, you'd kick major ass. I'll bet, even injured, you could kick my butt in any day that ends in a 'y'. But, I want to. Look, there's something here. Or else you wouldn't have kissed my ugly mug, let me stay the night, let me be here. Now that I think about it, you could have eliminated that guy in South America too. And sure, maybe this is all part of some fiendish scheme to bring me into S.H.I.E.L.D., Control, the K.G.B., M.I.6., C.S.I.S., whatever the Chinese intelligence agency is called."

"Now that's good work on their part. Largest country in the world, and the only way to tell what their secret agent branch is called is with Google. I mean, sure, I know it's the M.S.S., and you probably know it's the Zhonghua Renmin Gongheguo Guojia Anquanbu, but since I don't speak Chinese, I might have just explained how to soft boil an egg."

Now, where was I? First paragraph, second paragraph," he seems to be looking up and scrolling with his finger, as if he's reading a few lines of text, "oh yeah, if you have kids, you're totally a GILF, or G-GILF, or whatever it's called. I don't do drugs myself. They're bad, m'kay. I like to set a good example for the kids at home. Besides, with my healing factors, drugs... they no-a work on me."

"Now, why don't you go do your potty business, get all soapy, and I'll make us some breakfast, or, if you don't want it, can I mooch off your supplies to make some breakfast for myself? I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for flapjacks!" He clapped his hands together and then rubbed them.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
As he speaks, Natasha had paused in the hall to look back at him. And by the time he's done? She's smiling. Again. That real smile that seems to be showing up for the last twelve hours or so with surprising frequency. "Make whatever you want and yeah, I'll eat something when I come out," she agrees. Then she's gone down the hall, disappearing into her bedroom.

She crosses quickly to the attached bathroom, turning on the hot water in the shower. She finds some good old fashioned plastic wrap she'd already put in the bathroom after her last shower. She's not supposed to get the stitches wet. So she improvises. Tossing her clothes aside, the steam from the shower obscures her form from view. The bandage is removed from her leg and she takes the time to clean the wound carefully before saran-wrapping the thigh and securing it with some medical tape. It's worked every other time. Once in the shower, she takes the time to wash her hair first before finishing off washing the rest of her. The water gets shut off. She towel dries then unwraps her leg and sits on the edge of the tub to bandage it. Still that steam lingers long after the water is off.

Satisfied, she throws on a fresh pair of yoga pants and another tank top, this one with the SHIELD emblem emblazoned on the chest, with a sports bra underneath.

After quite a while, she comes padding back down the hall on bare feet, her hair still damp from the shower since she didn't take time to blow dry.

Deadpool has posed:
Laughter walks hand in hand with Deadpool. Unfortunately, chaos walks in front of him, and violence walks behind him. It's his posse. By the time she joins him, Wade has managed to make a huge mess, and clean it up. There are fresh signs of a wet cloth having gone over the cupboards, countertops, and drawers, as splatter from the pancakes seem to get everywhere.

Those pancakes are set out on the table. There's even a tablecloth over it, and a candle. Wait, did she even bring a tablecloth and candle, or are they from that picnic back of holding he seems to have? Hard to say, but it's a nice touch. There are communal plates. Pancakes, French Toast, eggs Benedict, sunny side up, regular buttered toast, bacon, sausage, ham, beans, tomatoes, hash browns, he really went all out, and probably owes her quite a bit in groceries.

He's wearing an apron. It's pink, with a Hello Kitty on the front. Again, is that hers, or did he bring it? He begins speaking, and it's French, though with a Canadian accent, so it's bad. "Ma chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride, and greatest pleasure, that I welcome you today." He moves over and pulls out a chair. "And now, I invite you to relax, let me pull up a chair," he gestures for her to sit, "as the dining room proudly presents, your breakfast!" He winks at her.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha freezes when she enters the kitchen with the dining area off to the side. Her eyes go a little wide as she takes in the amount of food that he's prepared. Did she even have any of that in the pantries? She had it stocked up before she started using it but she rarely ever used the kitchen. She could, she just chose not too. Generally it was take-out. She had them programmed in her cell phone. Easy, no mess. Why are her cabinets all looking like they've been washed? She opens her mouth then closes it immediately, unable to form words.

The apron? Yeah, definitely not hers.

As he quotes Beauty and the Beast to her in his bad Lumiere impression, she takes the offered seat. "If you start singing, I will shoot you," she warns even though she's fighting a smile. "Were you planning to feed every member of SHIELD?"

Deadpool has posed:
"I didn't know what you liked to eat, and uh... I don't know what Russians eat for breakfast, besides Vodka. They do have Vodka for breakfast right? Vodka and cornflakes, the breakfast of champions. But not the Champions of Coast City kind, but the Olympic champions." He moves around and takes a seat to her immediate right. He takes a plate, and begins loading it up with carbs. How does he stay so thin eating like that?

"I don't know, if they're going to be joining us, I could whip up some grits." He said that as if he were a Southerner. He seemed to be pretty good with accents. She was all nice and freshly showered. But he still wore the tuxedo, sans the jacket, which was still on the couch.

"Too bad about the musical number. I was so looking forward to hearing you scream, but I guess I'll have to settle for you screaming my name aloud." He hoped it would be in ecstacy, but if tradition meant anything, it'd be in anger or frustration. He had managed to spend the better part of a day with her, and she hadn't shot him anything besides a dirty look. So he was doing well. "By the way, nice outfit. So, I'm guessing you've got a subscription to Lulu Lemon? Do you own stock in the company?" If she did, she must be rolling in it. And then he thinks of her rolling in something. And it's a good thing he's sitting down.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Not even knowing where to begin, Natasha watches a he loads up a plate. Does he have the metabolism of a hummingbird? There's no way he can keep that rock hard body wih that sort of intake. Maybe he is planned on some sort of exertion. A lot of athletes would use high carbs with heavy workouts, burning the calories they took in. That must be it. But what could he....

Change mental channels. She's pretty sure she figured it out. Better to move onward or guess it's for some other reason.

"While I have had vodka for breakfast on more than on occasion, I can say that I've never hard it over cereal. It sounds horrifying. Why would someone waste perfectly good vodka tainting it that way?" she asks with a shake of her head. She picks up her own plate, looking at the offered buffet. "I'm guessing Lulu Lemon has something to do with yoga pants or tank tops. Are you bitching about my wardrobe? I'm at home. I relax when I'm at home. Would you rather I put on my uniform?" She might have been better off not asking that question.

Deadpool has posed:
Deadpool's healing factor is constantly burning calories. It's fighting to keep him alive, even when all he's doing is sitting there. He has a very progress form, or rather, forms of cancer. He's suffering from a variety of them. Though, some extracurricular activity would not be unwelcome.

"Oh no, you haven't? You must try it. It's great. There's the pure, unspoiled vodka, with the crunchy taste of wheat, and sugar, and whatever else they put into it these days." But when she asks if he has a problem with her wardrobe, he panics a little, "oops, I did it again. No, no, I'm not making fun of your wardrobe. I think it's great. I love Lulu Lemon. They started out as a yoga pant company, kind of invented them really, but now they make everything. In fact, I bet they'll be coming out with a mobile phone any day now."

When she offers to strip for him, he grins, "No need. You can wear whatever you want, as long as you promise to not look at me, you know, and be offended by the hideous scars, and not listen to me, because I never shut up until I manage to fit my size 13's in my mouth. Oh, right, you know what they say about shoe size, don't you? Just, oh, who am I kidding? Maybe I should go." He was talking himself out of staying. Poor Wade. He knew she was out of his league and was trying to spare her the trouble of kicking him out.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
There was about to be a very adamant discussion about alcohol abuse.

Then he goes serious, turning on himself again. Natasha sets her plate down before she even has put any food on it. "You are welcome to leave if you want to," she says carefully, having told him that earlier and he had chosen to stay. In her mind, he wants to be there. But his own self loathing is going to be the undoing of this situation more than his mouth. Well, his mouth is involved since it's sharing the information but anyway!

She reaches out a hand, placing it on his cheek. "Wade, look at me," she says softly, putting the slightest pressure on his cheek, trying to ger him to turn and face her. "I am not offended by you. If I were, I would tell you. I won't beat around the bush, I won't play games. If I want you to shut up, I'll tell you. If I want you to back off, I'll say it. And if I didn't want to look at you, I wouldn't." She tries to brush the pads of her fingers over his cheek gently, if he allows it. Her eyes never leave his face.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade felt so sorry for himself when she said he was welcome to leave. He barely heard the part about it being if he wanted to. Wade was self-destructive and it had a habit of getting away from him if he wasn't careful. But the hand stopped him from doing anything further.

He looked at the hand, surprised by the touch, the tenderness, the pressure. He liked it. His skin was a bit hot. He was blushing. "You're not?" He asks cautiously. Though what exactly was he asking? He didn't really reply to any one of the various things she had said. So he corrects it by saying, "if you want me to back off... so, you're saying you don't mind me, uh, oh gosh, what did the kids say back then? Wooing you? Is your father still around. Can I collect a dowry. I always wanted a dowry. No, nevermind, nix that. All I want is you. Could there, uh, be an us, like in the Toys 'R sort of way?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
And just like that, moment turned into something a lot less serious seeming by his comments. Natasha knows better. She sees the pain in him. She has from the beginning. Only now, she is getting glimpses of the man behind the merc. The one that has morals. Decency. That doesn't take advantage of a position of trust. She keeps her hand on his cheek as she smirks slightly. "My father has been dead for a very long time and I don't belive wooing was ever a term I've used." She tilts her head to the side as she withdraws her hand from his cheek. "I don't know yet if there can be an us since we've only got a few hours under our belts. Let's just see what happens, okay? If it becomes an 'us' then so be it but I ask one thing."

Now it's her turn to be serious as she looks to his eyes. "Don't get seduced by an image. By an idea. By a fantasy. There cannot be an us without you seeing the real me. Which isn't very pretty. You worry about your outside. My inside is so much worse."

Deadpool has posed:
Deadpool is an open book. Most people choose not to read it. They get too distracted by the pretty picture on the cover, or not so pretty picture, depending on the day, and whether or not he's wearing his mask. There's also an annoying number of pop ups in the book of Deadpoolica. "Parents dead. All right, I just dodged a bullet. I'm not sure if my parents are dead. I'm not even sure I'm Canadian. I might be from Ohio. My memories are kind of messed up. But whatever I am, whatever I was, it's there, for you, if you want it."

He's got his fingers crossed that there can be an us. But she has a question, and he regards her fully. He shuts up, and listens. As she explains, or gives him a summary of an explanation that might come. "All right... so, we both know that I'm a freak with some deep seated neuroses, a bad case of acne, a troubled past, a killer pog collection, and a penchant for mayhem. But who's the real Natasha. I'd like to get to know her."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
And in that moment, he will see it. There in the depths of Natsaha's eyes. There is a moment of confusion at the question.

It's only visible because she has agreed they should be open with each other. She isn't letting herself act, to just let him see what she chooses. No, she will let him see the truth.

She frowns a little, dropping her gaze as she shifts back slightly in her chair. "I..." She closes her eyes, swallowing. When she answers, she doesn't open her eyes, not wanting him to see that vulnerability in her eyes although her words will say it all. Her voice is barely above a whiper.

"I don't know anymore."

Deadpool has posed:
Deadpool is known as the Merc with a Mouth. He talks. He converses. He banters. He speaks. He squawks. He jabbers. He does all manner of things, but they are invariably with his mouth. He normally never shuts up. He's a motor mouth. But instead, he remains quiet, watching her, looking at her, smiling to her.

He is endlessly patient. He waits until she opens her eyes. He wants her to see his reaction. The warmth he greets her with. There is kindness and compassion in his eyes. She's as messed up as he is, just, in a different way. And when he finally speaks, his mouth is suddenly dry. It bothers him, but he powers through it. "L-let's find out."