6869/He didn't see my Snark

He didn't see my Snark
Date of Scene:	12 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Deadpool and Steve work on a puzzle!
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Deadpool

---

Captain America has posed:
Sometimes, you just can't sleep. Coffee's not the answer and neither is mind-rotting late night television. Not even the radio can help, in Steve's case. So he can be found in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate and bag of honey-mustard dijon potato chips opened. The bag rattles as he fishes around in it for another chip and puts it in his mouth almost automatically. On the table before him?

An honest-to-god puzzle, complete with oddly-shaped pieces. It's printed on cardboard and over one-thousand pieces. The end result will be some Lisa Frank-esque dolphins swimming through a coral reef motif...if the Captain ever gets there. Still, he's the stubborn sort and idly pushes pieces around, looking for the last corner.

Deadpool has posed:
"WHY DO YOU BUILD ME UP"

"BUTTERCUP BABY JUST TO LET ME DOWN, AND MESS ME AROUNNNNNN'," Wade sings in a loud whisper. It is somehow all in caps yet also stage whispered in top 'whisper' volume. "Can I help?" Wade asks, dropping his tune, and approaching, calming down out of his jaunty dance. He doesn't touch anything, but he does make some grabby-hands.

"Grabby hands should be in pockets," Deadpool says to himself. Probably to himself.

Captain America has posed:
With a little jump in his chair that jostles around the chip bag, Steve then blinks at the appearance of the Merc with the Mouth. Instead of the usual mild remonstration or outright flat look, Wade gets a tired half-smile. It's entirely possible that the Merc is welcome company right now.

"Sure, you can help, Wade." His hand gestures over the pile of shaped pieces. "'m looking for the last corner and the edges. Figure I could fill it in from there." He reaches for his steaming mug of hot chocolate. "You want some? Extra's on the stove." It's been made old-school style, in a pot, where the milk was heated slow and the powder stirred in.

Deadpool has posed:
"Yay! I do," Wade says, looking to the Stove. He crosses over to it, to examine the old-school situation, and helps himself after finding a mug. One of Tony's 'kiss me, I'm fucking amazeballs' mugs.

Wade returns with the mug, after finding a huge handful of marshmellows from somewhere, and starts to sloooowly try to pile all the marshmellows on top in a jenga-like assortment while also sitting down slowly in a chair by the puzzle table.

"You seem tired. Too much jogging?" Wade guesses kindly.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's quiet for a time to watch the attempt at maximum balanced marshmallow-age. It's beginning to look like a sculpture in puffed white atop the mug's beverage. "Lots on my plate. What else is new though?" He pushes through a nearby collection of watery-looking puzzle pieces and starts pulling out the ones with the solid line of edging.

"Plus, I don't sleep every now and then. Doesn't everyone?" His eyes rise to Wade across the table.

Deadpool has posed:
"Here, these won't fit," Wade says suddenly, and reaches across to offer Steve the offending six mini marshmellows. They'll end up in Steve's mug or maybe just set aside, it's not that important!

Wade looks down through his mask at the puzzle again, and then draws his hands back to unpeel his mask from the neck, up over to nose-bridge. He leans forward to eat a marshmellow off the top of his stack, and looks at the puzzle sloooowly. "It's really tempting to just slam the pieces in until they fit. I won't do that to your puzzle, though."

Captain America has posed:
A nod from Steve means the wee fluffs of sugary goodness end up bobbing about in his hot chocolate. He sips around them as they begins to melt into the steaming drink.

"It is tempting, but then they'd get bent out of shape and someone else would get bent out of shape," the Captain quips quietly. "Deliberate mutilation is not acceptable this time." He finds another edging piece. "Why are you up late then, Wade? You must sleep like the rest of us eventually do?" Steve asks mildly.

Deadpool has posed:
"Sure I do," Wade agrees. "I have a tilt-o-whirl of things in my head though, and sometimes the other me's in my head have insomnia and want to talk." Wade's reason to stay up is slightly different than Steve's, maybe. Crazy person version!

"Sometimes you can just apply an icepick and it's quiet. Sometimes not. I haven't tried that to-day, just came over to see if Nat was around. And I found you!" Wade smiles, warm. It would be a nice smile if Wade's face wasn't horrifying and his lips weren't somewhat missing.

"That's just sometimes. Deliberate mutilation is a thing. But not to the nice puzzle. Noooo, mister puzzle, we'll be gentle," Wade says, picking up a little edge piece in a dainty way and offering it to Steve like a tentative child.

Captain America has posed:
Humoringly, the soldier takes the piece from Wade with equal care. "Thank you," he says quietly before putting it into place. The beginning of what could be the bottom of the puzzle is forming into a visible line of chained pieces. He rotates the bag of potato chips towards the Merc in offering.

"Since I can't do an ice pick and I don't deal with vertigo, what other suggestions do you have to offer? And why're you looking to find Nat?" Steve frowns curiously at the man. He holds out the final corner to Wade. "Here, last one and then we can keep working on the edges."

Deadpool has posed:
"I wanted to watch more Netflix with her, we were watching a /show/, and I'm not caught up on watching the models fight," Wade says with ease. "Also, who wouldn't look to find Nat? She is awesome!" There's a bouncy pleasure to his defensiveness about his friend being great.

The puzzle pulls Wade's attention again, and he takes back the corner, turning it around into what is probably the wrong orientation. If Wade is a savant about puzzles, he isn't showing that now. "I like color. I'm gonna put aaaall the dark green ones together," Wade suggests. He starts to pick them out and make a pile.

"You think I have a good solve for sleep? I mean, have you met me?" Wade teases. He slurps his chocolate drink and beams when he finds another edge! Yay helping!

The next one is green AND an edge. Wade hesitates. And moves his hands as if he were going to tear the piece in half between gloved fingers so that it can be both.

Captain America has posed:
"Wade." The quiet reminder comes across the table as Steve gives the Merc a suspicious squint. He can hazard what might become of the piece. "No mutilating." By the soft snort to follow, the Captain never expected to be saying this in everyday conversation.

With a sigh, he shifts in his chair. Resting his chin in one hand, he fiddles with a drawstring of his blue hoodie as the other pieces are contemplated before him. "Nat is awesome." His brows flick to emphasize this. "Didn't know you two were watching shows together. Fighting models?" Steve now looks up again. "Like fashion models? Janet might want in on that," he adds blithely as he looks back down at his pile.

Deadpool has posed:
"Yes. It's a reality show. But it's not actually reality. They do competitions and things, like who has the best hair and who cries the most over running down a hill in high heels," Wade explains. He also flips his hands apart with a gasp. The piece is gone!

Wade then reaches over and pulls the piece from the vicinity of Steve's ear. And then drops it into the edges group. Just being a funny guy, it appears. Wade then pulls the arm in and plops his cheek on his raised fist, stirring his jenga-mush of marshmellows. "Sometimes the mutilating is nice. Like getting drunk. You just lose track of the crap for a little while."

Captain America has posed:
The disappearing piece does have the soldier intrigued. Quirking one wheat-gold brow, he looks Wade up and down because...where did the piece go? The red-and-black suit is skin-tight. A blink and tah-dah: the piece in question, appearing with all the charm of a silver dollar in a side-show faire.

"Clever," he comments as to the sleight of hand. "You'll have to teach me that sometime. I remember when I learned that I couldn't get drunk. Hell of a revelation because," and he points at Wade. "You're not wrong. Everything gets less important for a while."

Deadpool has posed:
"It's always important to have a challenge. Not be /boring/. Nobody wants to do something with no challenge to it. I feel like that about life. It's /boring/ to have a healing factor that makes it so that you can't die. There's no challenge to life. So you gotta invent your own fun," Wade says, with a perhaps bizarre onslaught of wisdom for somebody picking a marshmallow out of chocolate milk to lick.

Wade winkles his nose some and pulls his hood off fully, and stuffs it into one of his pouches, stretching his spine slightly and then looking at the puzzle again. Wade's hard to look at, particularly in nice kitchen lighting. The skin condition is always a really gut-hitting reminder of the world being a very rough place.

Captain America has posed:
Without fail, Steve's eyes do linger on the display of revealed skin. And, as always, the man is the gentleman and makes no comment as to it. While it's not nearly to the degree of revulsion that Wade receives on a regular basis, he too knows what it's like to be stared at and singled out.

His attention falls back to the puzzle piece. With a frown, he suddenly pulls together a number of pieces rapidly. It begins to form the smiling face of one of the dolphins in the design. "Does the fun always have to end with pain or dismemberment or...I dunno, bloodshed? Couldn't you do something like...run a long-distance race for charity?"

Deadpool has posed:
"The issue is probably 'long-distance,'" Wade answers, his voice evening out into a conversational tone. He pulls his chair in a little more, attention somewhat on the puzzle, but more on the topic. "I have a hard time keeping focused on something for very long. Sometimes better than others. It doesn't have to be bloody, no. That's just my skill set. Like if I was really good at crochet, maybe I'd do lots of little hats for injured penguins without head feathers. But as it is, I'm good at dismemberment."

Wade finds two more pieces of dolphin face, and leans over to put them in neatly. "My friend does crochet and I tried. Just wasn't /me/. I've stabbed someone with --- you know what, forgot who I was talking to for a sec. I'll leave that there."

Captain America has posed:
"Probably best that you leave it there, yeah." Still, the Captain's tone is nothing more than flawlessly polite. "Knitting was never my interest either. They used to encourage it in order to ward off shellshock after the soldiers came home. It's a detailed task with repetative motions that takes little effort and you make something in the process. Not a perfect suggestion, but..." Steve shrugs, finding another piece and putting it in place to complete the dolphin's glossy black eye. "I knew a few men who got to be very good at darning socks."

He rustles the potato chip bag to grab out a handful and begins munching through them. He comments, when his mouth is foodless, "Could do something like...sing songs for folks at the retirement homes."

Deadpool has posed:
The munching helped Wade remember the chips. He looks at them as if they just appeared, even though he was offered some earlier, and pulls a handful out in his gloved hand. "Huh. I could see that helping. I'll suggest it to Logan with less sarcasm next time," decides the mercenary, kindly.

"I have done that. Sometimes they ask me to please not come back," Wade says, with a slight tension across his mouth and a forced laugh. It wasn't really funny. Sort of funny. "I didn't want to be there anyways." Wade did want to be there.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's brows knit. "'m sorry to hear that, Wade. They should have honored your gesture for what it was. Could...walk the dogs at the local animal shelter? I hear it's good for them to get out. Dogs are less complicated than humans...at least, from my experience." By his half-smile down at the puzzle, he's thinking of a past pet -- or a recent encounter with one.

With a little sigh of contentment, Steve then clicks a palm-sized portion of the puzzle into place along one of the semi-completed edging lines. "It's looking good. I appreciate your help," he says to Wade with a lift of his hot chocolate mug. The marshmallows donated earlier have long since melted.

Deadpool has posed:
"I LOVE dogs," Wade says, following the new topic, perking up. His smile is terrifying but it IS a real smile; the mask he wears tempers the freakiness of it. "I had a whole bunch of puppies, I brought them to the martial arts tourney I was in last year," Wade says, conversationally. "I'd had a vest, so they could be with me. The other guy had issues with it, saying he wouldn't hit my puppies. No shit. Anyway, someone else there bought ALL the puppies so they wouldn't be in harm's way. I made a lot of money. I do miss the puppies, though."

Captain America has posed:
The story, outlandish as it is, has the Captain staring at Wade overtop the rim of his mug. He frowns and gives the Merc a disbelieving look, complete with pull of mouth to one side for a dubious dimple.

"...y'know, if I didn't know you better, I'd call that bluff. However..." He blows a sigh and then smirks. "Knowing you, it's a viable approach. But hey, you like dogs. Go volunteer. Walk one each day of the week between...your other business." He gestures with his free hand. "Just...maybe wash your suit before you go walk 'em. Don't want to try smelling like a fresh steak."

Deadpool has posed:
"This sounds like homework, for no real reason. What was the reason I'm walking a dog? Do I have to also pick up dog shit? Like, do you have a dog and it needs to be walked or something?" Wade asks. "Because you could just ask me for a favor about dog walking like a normal friend. Or at least, like one I've seen on TV. I think we're close enough for that favor."

"Maybe some house sitting and an airport pickup. I don't know if I'd help you move, though; that would depend on if there were stairs in either the old place or the new place."

Captain America has posed:
The delivery of it all is enough to entice a stifled laugh out of Steve. His hot chocolate sloshes but doesn't spill from his mug in-hand. It breaks against his other fist and then he gives up to let the chuckling peter out.

"Just a suggestion to break the monotony of your life, Wade. You don't have to do any of it. Figured it's not dealing with your mercenary work. Some variety? Not boring. You ever just...wake up and stretch in bed and look at the sun rising and appreciate the quiet?" This he asks with an unnatural gravity as he looks at the Merc across the way.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade was looking at the puzzle, and looks up, now. His eyes are blue, which can make them pop due to the red awfulness of skin, but they're not weird or unusual by themselves. There's a humanness to them that often gets lost with the mask on.

"Only after the ice-pick," Wade says. "But yes. Sure." Wade makes a big effort, and is quiet, head cocked a little.

Captain America has posed:
Steve nods. He takes a long sip of his hot cocoa and puts the mug aside. It's due for a refill, but the man doesn't make to get up just yet. Instead, he puts a few more pieces in place to flesh out the dolpin's front fin. When he glances up at Wade again, there's an odd glitter in his eyes.

"Guess what doesn't kill you can still give you a migraine, huh," he deadpans.

The twinkling is cheek. Sheer, pithy, and friendly cheek.

Deadpool has posed:
"I am trying so hard to be quiet and let you appreciate your puzzle-sunrise-whatever right now, I hope you know that," Wade says in a tense way, pressing his lips together, eyes getting a little bit huge. It isn't a good look for him. Like he might explode, or is really constipated. Same thing?

Wade picks up what's left of his mug and chugs it deliberately.

Captain America has posed:
Folding his arms, Steve leans back in his chair in a lazy, composed way. He continues smiling fractionally and it's just enough to showcase ghostings of dimples.

"I am appreciating putting together a puzzle with you, Wade. If you gotta go though, I don't blame you. The quiet doesn't last for much longer past sunrise." He then tries to stifle a yawn behind a hand and mostly succeeds. "You were good company," the Captain adds mildly. By his expression, he's sincere in this small laud.

Deadpool has posed:
"Yeah, I have a rooftop to go sit on with a rifle," Wade admits openly, while moving a few puzzle pieces around towards the puzzle. They're green. Maybe they go in the area near other green. "Scopes make it not a challenge, though. Boo on scopes," the merc adds. He then looks up, thoughtful. He doesn't flip out about the compliment. Wade's hard to anticipate: his unpredictable quality being the most consistent thing about him.

"You're good company too. You're good at not flinching at me." Wade doesn't look up, eyes on the puzzle while he talks. "I know I look like the wax figures of Churchill and Hilter melted together into a perfectly fused artistic representation of their animosity."

Wade finishes his mug.

Captain America has posed:
"I don't think people give you enough credit for your descriptions, Wade." That's about all that Steve can manage at first after hearing the definition of the Merc's looks from his own mouth. "That's...a singular way to describe it," he adds diplomatically. "And thanks. Figure it's about that old saying. Something about not judging a book by its cover. You have your moments, Wade, but...I think you're good people in the end."

He snags up the bag of potato chips and eats one before holding out the bag towards Wade. "You want any for the road?"

Deadpool has posed:
"I think you're on to something. More credit for Deadpool. Decent bumper sticker. Or we could put it on the ass of workout pants. Credit to deadpool." Wade then reconsiders. "But I don't want credit for flat butts. I do like big butts, and I cannot lie," Wade says, in a manner of which suggests he is quoting song lyrics.

But then he grins. And bashfully shrugs. If he blushed, nobody would be able to tell. He's got some Churchill spleen blocking that. "Daw. You're a sweetiepie, Steve." Wade reaches out to bump at Steve's arm with a fist companionably. "The next time I shout at the voices in my head, I hope it's you offering me the ice-pick." Wade accepts exactly four chips with a nod.