6790/Right as Rain

Right as Rain
Date of Scene:	07 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Turns out that Steve can cook after all! Poor Janet suffers through it.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet is moving a little slowly. Not sluggishly, no, but a bit stiff. Like someone who had leg day and overdid it. She's wearing the lightest possible clothing that's winter-suitable, a flowing blue dress with little shape and a stylishly pleated skirt. It's a little cold, hence the leggings under it and jacket over it.

She shrugs out of her jacket with a wince and steps out of her high-heeled boots, hanging the former near the door. "Hey, I'm home," she announces to the house's AI. Lights come on and a few amenities on autopilot are activated. She picks up her artist's folio bag and leaves the foyer to move towards the living room area. Windows tint subtly to discourage voeyeurs from seeing into the penthouse.

Captain America has posed:
It might become apparent upon entering the living room area that there's a different scent floating around the penthouse. It's...savory without being overwhelming and herbal, speaking to rosemary and sage, garlic and onion. There's also the lighter wisp of puffed starch and the crisper touch of what could be...vegetables? From the kitchen area comes the hollow //thunk// of a...wine bottle being uncorked. Surely that's enough to draw attention?

Standing by the island countertop, tilting a green-glass bottle over one of the resident bulb-topped glasses, is one Steve Rogers. The quiet glug of red wine fills the glass nearly to its brim and he starts on the second, wearing a small smile around the corners of his lips as he concentrates. None spills on the counter or on the brilliantly royal-blue dress-shirt he wears with black slacks. He has the top button undone at his neck and the sleeves rolled as far up as the muscles of his forearms can manage. Setting the bottle aside, he looks up at Janet and slowly, dimples appear.

"You look right as rain," he says quietly to her even as he offers out one of the wine glasses. Up close, the signature cologne he wears slinks beneath the smells of slow-cooked chicken. On the stove, a pot of white rice and in a skillet, some green beans tossed with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Wary enthusiasm marks Janet's face. Her head tilts hawkishly to the side, failing to subdue a smile as she crosses towards Steve. "Well, this is a welcome surprise," she murmurs. "Here I was thinking that my letters to Santa weren't getting read." She moves to perch on one of the stools at the countertop and drops her boots and bag near her feet. Stockinged toes cling to the edge of the footrest for balance. She accepts the wineglass, lifts it towards Steve with a chime of glass, and takes a sip.

"Mmf. That is good. But how did you get--" she pauses, shaking her head. "Pepper. Pepper or Jessica. Or Carol." She frowns. "Or Tony. Wow, I really should figure out who all has the door code," she says with a furrowed brow.

She looks around the kitchen. "Mmm. Chicken, and... rice, and veggies-- Steve, are you cooking me *dinner*?" Both brows go up as she puts two and two together.

Captain America has posed:
It's entertaining to watch the Wasp go through the process of figuring out precisely what Steve is up to. His dimples deepen further. He lifts his glass of wine once more to her conclusion and sips at it before taking it with him back to the stovetop. It's set aside for him to mind the green beans in their pan.

"Got it in one," replies the man as he moves them about in the soft simmering on the heated pan's surface. "The chicken's been done for about ten minutes. It's sitting in the oven. Rice should be done..." He eyes the transparent lid. "Eh, another two minutes. Figured you could use a meal that wasn't Jello and crackers."

He glances over his shoulder at her. "You look like you're moving a little slow, but they wouldn't've let you go if you weren't healed up. Comfortable? You need anything?" Steve glances around the kitchen and even towards the ceiling. "I tried to get it to play some music earlier, but I guess it didn't recognize my voice. Or something."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"House," Janet says. "Play dinner music mix... three." Soft, lilting Vivaldi comes from multiple indeterminate directions. It's the perfect pitch and volume, loud enough to listen to but not interfering with casual conversation. She lifts a brow at Steve as if to say 'Not bad?'

"Honestly I'm just creaky from all that time in bed. I hate bed rest. There's only two things to be doing in bed, and only one of them's sleeping." Brows bob at Steve teasingly. "It's basically healed. Still really sensitive though, and the doc said no tanning for a month at least. Something about the dermal regeneration cancerous lesions, blah blah blah."

"I like that shirt, by the way," she advises him after another gulp of wine. "Really brings out your eyes, and your, uh..." Her green gaze rakes over Steve's frame. "Everything."

"So this is an unexpected surprise," she tells him. "A very welcome one," she adds, hastily. "What prompted all this? Do you do this for everyone who gets injured on the job?" she teases.

Captain America has posed:
Steve looks about the kitchen once more and then back to Janet as the strains of classical music resonate without overpowering potential conversation. A small nod of approval follows in silent reply to her eyebrowing. He manages a smile at her and, as usual, pink shows on the heights of his cheeks.

"Well, doctor's rules and all. You don't need to be tanning anyways, you have a lot of color left." A palm runs down the front of his shirt at her compliment as if to smooth away any wrinkles that might linger. A tilt of his glass at her in silent gratitude and he turns away to the food once more.

"Not everyone," he admits evenly. "Figured..." Condensation drips from the lid of the rice pot as he pauses, looking down at it. "Like I said before, a good meal is something I thought you'd enjoy. We've both been busy and some down-time is probably something to appreciate it too. Some quiet." He sets aside the lid and motions towards a collection of plates off to one side of the stove. "Lemme get the chicken out and we'll get to eating."

Opening the oven lets out a whafting of scented air and out comes a whole small chickenn on a baking sheet lined with foil, crispy-skinned and almost falling from the bone. He sets it off to one side along the counter.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Steve's back is turned. Now or never. Janet digs her cell phone from her dress pocket (yes, she has those) and starts recording Steve working on dinner. When he looks back, her only response is a lift of one brow. She doesn't even look away from the screen. "Mm, keep going, hon," she bids him. "I'm gonna put this up on Instagram and watch the women of the world melt into puddles in front of their computers."

She does turn the phone off at Steve and beams a wholly unapologetic smile at him. "This was super sweet," she remarks, as food is dished in front of her. "Nicely timed, thoughtful, a pleasant surprise that took some forethought..."

She starts to take a bite then drops her fork to her plate with a clatter. Eyes narrow at Steve. "Someone told you to do this," she states, suspiciously. "Who was it?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve pauses in giving the green beans one last turn-over in the pan at the sight of the phone. He blinks at the device and then sighs, turning back to continue working at dishing up. "Figured somebody was gonna know about it one day..." he mutters, deciding to be tolerant because it's supposed to be a pleasant evening he had planned.

Janet is given a plating of the white rice alongside a portion of green beans and one of the drumsticks, all still steaming. At the sound of the fork clattering, Steve turns rather quickly with his plate in his hand, having been just about to plop down a rather huge serving of rice on it. By how he relaxes for at least a second, he had been expecting something more disastrous.

"Nobody told me to do this, Janet. I figured you'd appreciate a nice meal," he replies, visibly taken aback. "I can be creative when I put my mind to it." This he says down on his plate as he does serve himself now.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet gives Steve an entirely too Cheshire smile. Smug and self-satisifed. "That's what I'm hoping to find out, anyway," she murmurs at him, and takes her first bite of the rice. A soft and appreciative exhale of air escapes her lips. "That is *very* not bad," she murmurs, and tries the chicken. An approving nod follows. "Mmm." She shifts on her chair so she can fold her legs under her and tuck one ankle under her thigh. "Well, the meal, the company, the booze, this is all just fantastic," she tells him. "Thanks, Steve. This is... very sweet."

Captain America has posed:
Pulling up a chair across from Janet at the island counter, Steve seats himself. He doesn't dignify the louche smile with anything more than an eyebrow, but for the first time, there's a twinkle in his eyes of something almost...self-satisfied.

"You're welcome, Janet. I'm glad you appreciate it." He seems to realize something and sets down his fork momentarily. The soft sound of paper towel tearing means he offers a folded section of it to Janet in lieu of fancier napkins. "So what's the timeline for recovery?" he asks. "We still have a dance lesson to figure out."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Mm. Well, doctor said no tanning. Listen to the new skin, it's going to hurt if I do the wrong thing. I've got this coconut cream oil I'm supposed to apply to it, it's a bunch of vitamin E and collagen rub that helps stimulate cell growth." Janet chews her food with a sideways motion of her jaw, giving Steve a pointed head to toe. "I could probably handle a dance lesson, though. That's worth a little discomfort." She waits until Steve's reaching for his wine. "Though if you were to be a gentleman and offer to help me get that lotion rubbed in, I wouldn't say no." She takes a bite of rice, favoring Steve with her most innocently wide-eyed expression.

Captain America has posed:
"We'll be careful not to jounce you too hard then. Maybe one of the smoother dances, like lindyhop." The Captain thinks aloud as he cuts his food into more bite-sized pieces all at once rather than as he's eating at it. "Although that might strain your arms..." he murmurs very quietly to himself with a pensive quirking of brow.

He does have his wine glass nearly to his lips when Janet delivers her question so lightly. His eyes rise and linger on her face before color suffuses his ears darkly. "Happy to help you reach spots that you have trouble reaching," he replies as smoothly as he can manage before taking a noticeably bigger sip of the red blend -- as if it would help him.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Steve's teasing evasion would normally prompt a sly rebuke from Janet, but instead she gets a little thoughtful. Her fork scrapes around her rice, chasing a piece of chicken without much enthusiasm. "Steve, y'know, I know I come on a little strong." She rolls her eyes at herself. "Okay, by your standards, it's more like a drunken tart during fleet week. I, uh..." She purses her lips, a nervous flush coloring her cheekbones. "Listen, I'm not really a, uh, *religious* person," she advises him. "But if you are-- I mean, if the, uh, the flirting's giving you... church... problems, then I can dial it back," she says. The words emerge in a rush. "I'll try to be more lady-like."

Captain America has posed:
"Oh." Steve's fork touches his plate after a slow descent in his unattended grip. He sets his wine aside and leans an elbow on the countertop, if only to allow his fingers access to rub at the back of his neck as he ducks his chin. His eyes linger off to one side for a second before he sits up again. A hand is offered out across the space between them and sits palm-up.

"'Church problems', is it?" His smile is gentle, rarely seen on his features. "No, no problems, Janet. Honest. Just...not used to it?" The lilting explanation is followed by a chuckle or two. The intensity of flush in his cheeks is similar to the woman across from him. "Wouldn't be attempting to court you if it bothered me to my bones. I gotta get used to it still. It's charming, in its way. Direct. Honest." A short sigh. "You're not being un-lady-like. Times are different now. You show the strength and self-posession that used to be hidden under manners. If anything, I'm...behind the times. Be yourself...and be a little patient with me?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet blinks at Steve's words. The hand resting in her lap slides across the table to lace with Steve's fingers. A thumbnail scraps lazily against his skin, buying her a few seconds to process the rather substantial paradigm shift that Steve just proposed.

"So... this is you *trying* to court me," Janet says slowly. Warm eyes and a lopsided smile flicker in Steve's direction. "What happens when you up it to *actually* courting me? Is that what takes us from 'seeing one another' to 'going steady'?" she quips. "Fair warning, I do look adorable in a letter jacket," she teases him.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain barely manages not to tuck his chin at the tease, but he keeps his composure even if his Irish skin betrays him well enough. "Don't have a letter jacket for you to borrow. Motorcycle jacket, sure," he says good-naturedly. He gives her captured fingers a squeeze.

"'m in no hurry to rush anything. Enough time has passed me by. I want to linger in the process. Never got to properly court a gal, not with how busy I was in the war and then..." His broad shoulders lift and fall. The implication of time spent frozen is known enough. "Figured dinner would be a good place to start. We've done dancing lessons. Dinner. Broadway show. Suppose a movie night is next." He takes up his wine glass and before he sips, adds, "Guess you have a plus-one to all those events you talk about. Makes things easier."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet bites her lower lip and a longing little sigh slips through her nose. Wholly unconscious, she seems unaware she's doing it. She swivels her stool back and forth a few times to gain momentum and break her reverie, pushing her rice around with a fork.

"Yeah," she exhales, finding her words. "Y'know, popcorn, some light food, put something on Netflix, chill out. I hear all the cool kids are doing it." She gives him a sanguine but innocent look, testing to see if he gets her entendre.

"I feel kind of weird being on this side of it," she admits. "Usually guys are the ones doing their hustle to seduce me. Now the shoe's on the other foot and ..." she wrinkles her nose. "God, I feel a little *dirty*, almost."

Captain America has posed:
"Suppose we'll have to see what the cool kids are doing," replies Steve to the proposition of Netflix with an equally composed tone of voice. He flashes the Wasp a knowing look and a smile that lingers in his eyes if not precisely on his lips. Quiet scraping of his fork in gathering up rice pauses as she continues more hesitantly. The pad of his thumb rubs at one of her knuckles as he cants his head back and forth consideringly.

"No reason to feel dirty. Granted, you're bolder than I am, but...again, getting used to things." A little rasp is him clearing his throat and shifting in his chair as if prepping for something. Then in slips the Irish accent again, no more heavy than necessary as to accidentally impede clarity of speech. "Figured if you like this well 'nough, could use it on the regular if the occasion calls fer it. Call you my bonny lass, if'n you'd like. Dunno how much this count as seducin', though."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet drops her fork with a clatter and glares at Steve.

It's about all the warning he gets before she vanishes in a puff of air. Wings buzz near-invisibly and then she reappears in mid-leap. Janet crashes full into Steve's upper torso with enough force to stagger him backwards against the monolithic grey refrigerator behind him. Small fists curl into his shirt collar with surprising strength. With a shin against his oblique muscle for purchase she wraps her other calf around his waist. Balanced against him like a climber summiting a rock. Her wrists push his chin straight upwards to kiss him. Rather enthusiastically and with a significant lack of restraint.

It lasts a good three count and then she lets him go and dances backwards. A natural sense of balance keeps her from stumbling and ends up with a hand resting against the countertop for balance and support. Her other palm brushes against her suddenly bee-stung lips and intensely dark eyes stare up at Steve's face.

"Why Captain Rogers, the very nerve," she says, feigning affront. A blustering effort to gather together some semblance of her dignity. "We're not even going steady yet and you kiss me like that? I've half a mind to slap you," she says, daring him to move with a regal upthrust of her slender chin.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain's got good reaction time, but this is too unexpected. His hands momentarily linger at Janet's upper arms beneath her shoulders as all of the air in the room seems to evaporate from around them in a swirl of lifted heat. When she disengages from his lips, Steve's left leaning against the cool steel of the fridge door with hands waffling about as if he's having trouble keeping track of where they are.

He stares back at the petite fashionista as his throat works. Here's where the catchy line comes in. He can almost hear Barnes in the back of his mind coaching him on: don't just stare, Rogers, say something!

"Jus' you think about how you'll be kissed once we are, lass." The accent is stronger yet, as if the sudden panther-like engagement had knocked it into place as a base setting.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's eyes dilate to black pools ringed in green and her breathing does not slow in the slightest. Slender, athletic shoulders heave up and down in a way that has nothing to do with physical exertion. She shakes her head briskly as if shedding water or perspiration and braces both palms against the counter behind her, back arching subtly with the motion.

"Now it's 'once we are'?" she quips at him, with his own words. "A few minutes ago it was 'maybe'." She uplifts her chin again, trying not to stare at Steve through her lashes. "But if you want to push your luck, keep playing that accent," she threatens him. "Just remember that you started it when this escalates out of control."

Captain America has posed:
Licking his lips, Steve straightens up out of the lean against the refrigerator door with a grace unexpected given his build and frame. One can almost see him pull the tatters of restraint about himself even if he doesn't make to fix how his shirt's been yanked askew. He then rests back against the appliance more comfortably and loops his thumbs into the pockets of his dress pants.

"Guess I'd better behave so it doesn't." He's gone back to the usual Brooklyn accent, easy (and almost lazy) in the delivery even if his darkened eyes have sharpened on the fashionista. "We've got dinner to finish after all, right?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet and Steve exchange dark stares for a long moment, then Janet bursts out giggle. Her own dress isn't faring much better, and she tugs it back into place rather than leaving it in dishevelled disarray. She drops her gaze and steps forward, head bowed until she's close enough to rest a reassuring palm on Steve's sternum. She gets on her tip-toes and leans up to kiss his cheekbone. "Maybe let's not resort to the nuclear option," she agrees. "You keep that accent locked up and I'll promise not to deploy any secret weapons either." She pats his chest once and walks back around the counter to climb back onto her stool. "Shall we finish dinner, then?"

Captain America has posed:
The Captain lets out a slow, silent sigh as he watches Janet walk back to her seat. The kisses linger on his lips and his cheek; even if the latter was far more her more chaste flirtatious norm, it still tingles atop heated skin. He nods and steps away from the fridge to return to his own seat.

"I promise only to use it when absolutely necessary," he quietly quips before taking up his glass of wine again. A lift in salute to her spins the ruddy drink and he gives Janet a stronger, truer smile this time. "To your recovery."