6809/The Dance Goes On

The Dance Goes On
Date of Scene:	08 March 2019
Location:	Avengers Mansion, New York City
Synopsis:	More dance lessons and revelations for the Wasp and the Captain.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)

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Captain America has posed:
In the small ballroom downstairs in the Avenger's mansion, there's someone fussing with the Bluetooth connection between his phone and the speakers. Frowning down at the device, Steve flicks through the Spotify playlists he has saved away on his account.

"No... No... Yes...?" There's even a small headtilt to accompany the uncertainty. "No," he finally decides. In black sweatpants and a brick-red t-shirt emblazoned with the Avenger's single 'A' in white, he does find the playlist he's hunting for in the end. On comes the bouncy, bluesy strains of modern music variants on the old West Coast scene.

A snap-snap-snap of fingers as Steve finds the beat after pocketing his phone and then he gets to working out a lazy patterning of traveling Charleston across the glossy wooden flooring. The text went out to Janet about an hour back: Lesson at 4pm, see you there. - Steve

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Am I late to the party?" Janet stops on the edge of the floor. Hands loosely interlaced in front of her belly, elbows back, posture immaculate. When Steve turns, she crosses a knee in front of the other and presents a quartered profile. Contrapposto frame, shoulders and hips in opposite angles and a palm pressing against her slender waist to emphasize her subtle curves. Her vermillion dress is simple, tasteful. There's a touch of the artist to it, as if rendering poetry using only simple words because that is all that's needed. It clings too tightly to be a proper A-frame yet the skirt billows with generous rustling folds that hang to her upper thigh. The neckline is quite modest and leaves only her collarbone exposed. A palm-wide collar of white lace adorns the hem and three buttons of pearl trace towards her sternum under it. The short demisleeves barely cover the athletic rondeur of her shoulders. White-and-red pumps with a three-inch heel punctuate her toned calves and slender ankles.

"I'm ready for my lesson, Professor," she tells Steve. She lifts her arm straight overhead and lets her wrist hang limp, just to nail the vintage look.

Captain America has posed:
Turning on the sole of his dress shoes (yes, so counter to the bagginess of the sweatpants, but sneakers have too much grip on the wooden floor and beggars can't be choosers), Steve's got his hands upraised for another Jets-like snap in time with the easy bounce of the music's beat.

No snapping occurs. If anything, the fingerpads slip from one another as he straightens completely upright with eyes only for Janet. Given the distance, she might miss the movement of his throat but likely not.

"No, not late at all." A chagrined laugh leaves him as he then sketches out a proper ballroom bow towards her, bending at the waist with his arm tucked to his torso. "Right on time. Wow, Janet, uh..." He sighs once in what //could// have been a laugh after he stands upright again. "That's...you look amazing." His hand is offered out the foxy lady in red and how his ears almost match the fabric hue-for-hue.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet beams spectacularly and drops out of her photo-ready pose. She skips two paces when Steve offers her a hand. Slender fingers wrap around his sturdy grip and she skitters into his proximity. A hand rests on Steve's sternum for a moment's balance and then presses into the underside of his jaw. Janet rises on her tip-toes, one foot lifting behind her for balance, and kisses Steve with a surprising amount of restraint. Enough to make it look almost chaste, except for the smouldering look in her eyes. A *lot* of restraint, then.

"Why Steve, you know just what to say to a girl," Janet tells him, and rests her weight on her heels (and a little balancing against Steve). "What're we doing today? And why do I feel overdressed of a sudden?" she says, looking down at his attire. She pinches the waist band of his sweats and snaps it against his hipbone playfully.

Captain America has posed:
"Ack!" It's a sound of reaction and no real pain at the sudden pop of fabric against his waist. "Well-dressed, not over-dressed," argues the Captain with no real ire and another bright laugh, especially given he's still recovering from the brief befuddlement of the quick kiss. "No flashbulbs here, so no reason for spats and a suit for me. It's a lesson. Now, we go out dancing proper?" He nods down at her as he shifts into an easy two-step. The span of his broad hand sits at the small of her back and the other lifts her captured hand with gentle pressure and direction. "You'll see me in a suit."

Patiently, Steve keeps up the rhythm until he's sure she's got it. She's a quick learn as is. "Figured we might dabble in lindyhop or in West Coast blues. You might like the latter more," he advises with a rarely-seen twinkle in his eyes. "Whatever's easier on your body. Did the doctor tell you to not do anything besides not tanning?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Nope," Janet says. "It's good for the new skin to stretch a little, it improves collagen something something. He said I'm cleared for..." A beat. "All kinds of strenuous activity." She gives Steve a wiggle of her left eyebrow, but it's clearly a bantering sort of humor rather than an attempt at entendre for some lascivious sake.

She hooks her grip around Steve's index fingers and steps back so they're at arm's length, meandering through some lazy pivoting steps that are in careful rhythm with the music. "Let's do that Western Step thing," she tells Steve. "I watched some YouTube videos and it reminds me a lot of salsa. I can salsa just fine," she reminds him. "I just can't quite get the footwork down."

Captain America has posed:
"Oh good." Steve replies as to the doctor's missives with a hint of hollowness when his mind momentarily yanks him elsewhere. With a small clearing of throat, he plants his balance and extends his arm out to allow Janet to play about to the beat of the music. He eyes her critically, if also appreciatively especially in how the rotations of her hips encourage the undulating swirl of the red skirt's waves of fabric.

"West Coast swing," he corrects. "And it's a little bit like salsa, I guess...?" By his tone, Steve's not convinced it's an accurate comparison. "It's pretty loose, sure, lots of hips. If you can feel the rhythm of blues, then... 'm not gonna say it's self-explanatory, but it's not that hard to pick up." He curls his arm, intending to bring Janet back into his personal space by the offering of his other hand. "We'll start with a triple rhythm break."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet allows herself to be guided back into Steve's space, hips rolling in a sinuous figure-eight pattern. She's a fickle, flighty sort of follow, always playing on the end of her tethered grip with Steve. It's rhythmic, at least, but the rolling counterrhythm of hip and shoulders keeps her weight moving distractingly on the tips of his fingers.

Any other issues Steve has with her sinuous gait is his problem.

She goes through the step routine several times. It doesn't take her terribly long to pick it up, though she frequently starts going in the wrong direction on count one. Salsa habits die hard.

Captain America has posed:
"Double triple triple, double triple triple..." Steve coaches her through the beginning steps until he's fairly certain that she has it. Once there, his voice falls away and he watches her go through the iterations without comment. His curled fingers do keep her nearby as best he can manage in the light-footed dancing of the woman in the red-red dress that continues to swirl in decadent accompaniment to her absolutely lithe shifts in step.

"Double triple triple," he picks up again as he sees the stumble of old Salsa habits. "Double trouble triple -- er -- " And the Captain breaks out into a spate of laughter at his trip of the tongue. "Triple triple, not double trouple -- triple -- double -- y'know what, you've got it, let's face it."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet pirouettes when Steve releases her. It's a rapid twirl done on the ball of her feet, arms carefully held in rigid balance and affording her a whipping momentum. The folds of her skirt flare and lift as the hem rises with centripetal force, exposing her upper thighs for a flickering moment.

She comes to a smooth stop, skirt settling above her knees again. "Let's *what* it?" she asks Steve, curiously. "You keep pushing my hand and I keep thinking you're moving me," she accuses him. "You brute." The insult is delivered with no heat at all and she gives him a daring up-and-down.

"I still want to take you clubbing sometime. The whole team, really," she amends. "There's this nightclub called 'Mjolnir' that just opened up. I don't know if it's a place Thor frequents but it seems right up our collective alley."

Captain America has posed:
Steve crosses his arms at the dared correction and grins, dimpling as he does. "That's because you're back-leading, Janet. Trust me to make you...look good," he explains with the delay of deliberate emphasis as lure for being a responsive follow. Still, the idea of clubbing has him giving her a mildly intrigued look.

"Oh, right, Mjolnir. Yeah, I heard about it. You wanna go there? I mean...dunno who would want to tag along, but suppose we can offer it to the team as a whole if they're bored and want to go see what it's about."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Because you're oooooold," Janet teases Steve. She swings her hips through a few lazy ochos, leaning her palms on Steve's forearm for balance. The folds of her skirt flicker and rustle with the motion.

"I thought we'd just bring everyone," she says. Fingers wiggle under Steve's palms and tease a grip loose, and she pushes his arms open. "Wouldn't it be fun? When was the last time we all got out and did something as a team that wasn't, y'know, getting blown up?"

She turns in places and backs up to Steve, draping his elbows over her athletic shoulders. Her hips continue to sway teasingly back and forth in lazy rhythm as her shoulderblades brush his chest. "Besides, nightclubs are my *jam*. Just feeling the bass thudding against your skin, the heat, the beautiful people..." She laughs and leans backwards, looking back and up at Steve. "You gonna judge me for a little chemical mood correction? It's not exactly Mr. FlimFlam's Miracle Cure of Coke And Opium," she points out. "Ecstasy won't cure gout or mumps but it does make dancing a *lot* more entertaining."

Captain America has posed:
The difficulty Steve has at keeping his attention on the graceful display of skirt can be seen in how his gaze slips from her face once or twice. With a little lift of his chin, he steadies himself and his focus. As usual, he humors the wee fashionista and lets her pose him like the world's foremost living and articulated Ken doll.

"Actually, it's been a while since -- " Right, well, those hips don't lie. The Captain falls silent if only because his throat closes off to an extent. He is a gentleman, however, and retracts the sling of his arms from her shoulders to where he can rest hands on the outer lines of her hips.

"Never tried ecstasy." It's an even admission even as he stands there, torn between moving along with the matched roll of her hips and putting necessary space between himself and the swish of that devilish skirt. "Got prescribed opium syrup for my coughs when I was young. I think there might have been cocaine drops too, but only for pain. It was inexpensive." By his expression, he seems to accept that the times, indeed, have changed and medicine along with it.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet leans back against Steve, but the Captain's insistence on leaving room for Jesus means her shoulderblades accept the brunt of contact. She rests her hands atop his, though, and keeps swaying her hips back and forth in careful time.

"God, and I'm paying a fortune to my dealer," she mutters, in envious complaint. "I don't do opiates though. I've lost a few friends to heroin." Her motion pauses for a moment. Steve can almost feel the sorrowful emotion tweaking her shoulders before her hips start a more subdued pace again. "I didn't like the shit they gave me at the hospital. Pepper totally said she'd narc on me when I asked her to get my little pharmacy kit." She reaches up behind her, palming Steve's cheekbone and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. "It must have been fun getting the flu when you were a kid. Go to the doctor, 'oh yeah you've got evil spirits, do coke and morphine until they go away'," she quips.

Captain America has posed:
What should come on but something not simply instrumental alone.

Nope.

It had to be Alannah Miles and the carrying, low beat of 'Black Velvet'. Janet shifts seamlessly into following the beat and the Captain swallows one last time. Then, giving in, he begins to shift in time with her even while his hands remain planted on the rounds of her hips. Back on forth on the balls of his feet, Steve moves, and the man gives away that he could be perfectly capable of blending in seamlessly to a clubbing crowd.

Still, Janet's banter has him snorting in amusement above her shoulder. "Thank god we were mostly beyond bad humors and blood-letting. There was aspirin. 'm sorry to hear about your friends though. There was the same danger with using it in the drops Mathair used to give me." Rotating his head, he places a soft and soothing kiss to her palm. "Just be careful." The admonition comes firmly if gently.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's balance is definitely somewhere behind her heels. For all her backleading her balance (hips?) is/are firmly in Steve's callused palms. She grins at the kiss to her hand, fingers curling to caress his cheek.

"I'm always careful," Janet assures him. "I'm not one of those dumb bimbos who snorts anything in front of her," she remarks. Her hips follow the pressure of his fingertips, an alluring hourglass moving in clockwork rhythms. "I try to keep it compartmentalized and I only buy from one person, he's a drag queen from Chelsea who daylights as a museum docent. Love him to death," she explains. "He's so cute in a plaid skirt. *Great* legs." Her free hand drops down and nails rake against Steve's midthigh behind her. An unrepentant giggle escapes the petite Avenger.

Captain America has posed:
Without much active thought, the gentle guidance of his fingertips continues to keep the fashionista precisely on half-beat with the bum-da-bum-da-bum of the bass guitar's one-note musical line. A-one...and two...and one...and he stiffens at the feeling of nails suddenly enticing a spread of goosebumps across his body.

"Woof." A hard exhale spun to word, Steve then gives her hips a squeeze that's equal parts controlling and gentle reaction. They've almost completed a slow circling in place and not once have either tapped shoes. "Glad that you're selective." Still, he doesn't cease cueing with his fingertips the rhythm of the music as it continues playing. "Nothing off the streets. It's not gonna get in the way of work, right?" It has the air of resigned delivery, as if the Captain //hates// to ask it, but it requires confirmation. He delivers another kiss to her palm in what seems to be apology for the serious note in the midst of the lesson.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
For once, Janet responds to Steve's fingertip lead and falls into an easy swaying step. Her hand lifts to rest atop his palm where nails stroke the back of his hand. "Off the street? No. And honestly, Steve, if I let it get in the way of work, I'd never make it as an Avenger," she points out. "There's a time and a place for everything. I'm not some *addict*," she clarifies. "Addicts can't quit and they use it even when it affects their life."

"I just..." She shrugs. "It kind of comes with the territory in the fashion world. Show me a model who *isn't* using dietary amphetamines or a photographer not on adderall. Go to a party and people are doing blow in the kitchen. Everyone does it. I'm just honest about it." She doesn't seem to mind his question in the least, or at least the kiss to her palm is assuaging her. "But it's... really sweet that you're concerned about me." She leans back against Steve and shrugs her shoulders into him as if expressing a hug.

Captain America has posed:
"I am concerned about you. I'm also glad to hear it won't interfere." The song is winding down to its end as the steady bass-line continues on and on, providing an easy map to follow for timed steps. Steve continues his nonchalant leading as they complete the second slow circle in place to 'Black Velvet'. His cheek leans a little heavier into Janet's touch, as if it were a place to naturally rest it.

"Sounds like a rough world, the fashion sphere. Wouldn't want to throw elbows in it myself if that's how folks have to manage. Think I'd rather be dressed down by Director May at length than deal with what you deal with on the regular." He laughs quietly as he gives her hips another gentle squeeze.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"It can be," Janet says. She rests her hands on Steve's fingers and extracts her hips from his grip. Without releasing his fingers she pirouettes smoothly and lowers his hands to the slope of her trapezius, her wrists crossing behind her neck and holding his hands with a limp grip around his index fingers.

"It's really just ... like, the people with egos. Models are super insecure and very high-strung. Photographers are perfectionists and fiddly about small details. You learn what people's poisons are. I read somewhere that you never turn down vodka in Russia, right?" she asks Steve. "Same principle, I guess. I think I'm pretty responsible."

She curls her lips into a smile up at Steve. "I have to admit that had me a little nervous. Everyone I know who grew up during the pre-War era is pretty hung up on drug use. But they also get bitchy about things like healthcare and social security, so." She rolls a shoulder in a neat scarlet shrug.

Captain America has posed:
From on high, Steve dimples mildly. "I missed out on most of the propaganda, but from what I've heard, there was a serious effort in the 1950s. And be nice to the old folk. We have it hard enough, trying to keep up with you whippersnappers," he quips drily. With thoughtful care, he makes to unwind Janet from the pretzeling of hands interlaced and spin her in another pirouette, if only to see the fluttering expansion of the crimson skirt. How delightful, the science of the color red and its impact on the hindbrain.

'Black Velvet' begins its measured decline towards its end and he leads her in close to him, daring to entice her to step into his space enough that she could rest stomach to the corrugation of his abs beneath the t-shirt. "But you //can// turn down vodka in Russia, y'know. Nobody's making you drink it." By his tone, it's banter simply to banter, with no real basis but cajoling tease.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet obligingly steps in close to Steve, graceful enough to at least keep the simple rhythm and not kick his toes. Her left hand remains in his grasp but she rests her right hand on his sternum for a little balance while she bellies up to him, a merging of firm planes and feminine curves. Her thighs brush his leading knee between steps.

"No, it's a true thing!" she exclaims. "It's a cultural thing. Vodka's their ice breaker. It's super rude to just turn a drink down. Like how you don't turn down tea in England or coffee in America, it's like... not *unforgiveable* but it's not appropriate?"

Captain America has posed:
The view of a smile barely kept at check might cue Janet in that the man is yanking at her chain as a cat might paw a lamp's draw-string. "Anything but dismaying the locals. Maybe I'm not as worried about customs as some folks. Could be my reputation." The one-shouldered shrug does shift the splay of his palm to the small of her back. Fingertips riffle in unconscious motion.

"Probably can't take me anywhere if that's the case," Steve continues blithely, eyebrows lifted despite the lazy lidding of his true-blue eyes. "'m nothing but trouble." The song begins to peter out with Alannah Myles singing softly, 'If...you please,' in her winsome way.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Steve I could take you *anywhere*," Janet blurts.

She pauses, thinking about that and chewing it over mentally. A little winsome sigh escapes her lips. "No, yeah, I'm gonna let that one stand," she says, nose wrinkling with a decisive nod.

"Why am I always surprised to hear you sing?" she asks him. "I know you can, I've heard you do it. You just start crooning and of a sudden I'm all, 'oh wow, Steve sounds so hot when he sings', like I've not heard you do it a dozen times. Wouldn't it be fun to get a band going with the Avengers? Just some of us toodling on instruments for shits and giggles?"

Captain America has posed:
To preserve her feelings, the Captain coughs at her final decision on matters of sudden slips of inner monologue. It's not //quite// a laugh and he continues looking down on her with the semi-sleepy expression now accompanied by the usual light blush. Caught out at humming the song, even if it just a few words of it under his breath. The playlist comes to an end and so Steve does as well, holding Janet against him in the wrapping of one arm about her ribs and the other with fingers braided at the height of her collarbone.

"It's a great idea, but don't think a band'll catch. Karaoke night, however? That might be accepted." On a whim, the soldier then leans down and kisses Janet on the cheek. His lips linger and he murmurs against her skin, "Song's over, shortcakes, so that means lesson's done for now."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet brushes her lips against Steve's cheek, though much closer to the corner of his mouth than his more gentle, chaste affection. She hugs him tighter for a deliberate few seconds and with the utmost reluctance, starts slipping backwards from his grip. "Thanks for the lessons, sweetheart," she tells Steve, and touches his cheek.

Lazy atmospheric music comes along on automatic and she walks off with an idle swaying of her hips as she dances from toe to toe, pirouetting smoothly through two rotations. Her skirt flares again, exposing bronze-tanned legs, and she blows Steve a knowing kiss over her shoulder before slipping out the door, her red-painted nails and a flash of her skirt the last thing to vanish around the doorframe.