6919/Small Moments

Small Moments
Date of Scene:	16 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Movie night for Janet and Steve.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
There is absolutely no emergency for once. No one banging down the door to the Mansion, no killer robots, nothing untoward happening at all. It's an evening for people to enjoy their quietude and reflect on the fruits of their labors. For Steve, in particular, such evenings are for old vinyl records, good books, and a sip or two of a decent Imperial stout.

So it's a little surprise when at 9PM, there's a trio of soft knocks at his door.

When he opens it, Janet's standing there. Athleisure black leggings, simple red camisole top. Even her shoes are simple low wedge sandals. She looks ... a little uncertain of herself, thumb corkscrewing against her opposite palm. But a smile flashes across her face. "Hey. I saw you were awake," she says. "I can't sleep. Um... I was wondering if you want to join me. For a movie or something. We can order some food. Or whatever." She glances past him into the room, as if looking for Deadpool to jump out from under the bed. "I mean, unless you're busy," she says, belatedly giving him a polite out.

Captain America has posed:
The quiet typing sounds cease when the triplet-knocks are heard over the soft sounds of orchestral film tracks. On the bed, Steve glances up from his laptop resting atop outstretched legs, the pencil held in his teeth in a slash of easily-recognizable yellow. Sticking it behind his ear (a long-established habit of artist-dom), he sets the computer aside and pads over to the bedroom door in his socks.

When it opens, it reveals him in black sweatpants and a heather-grey t-shirt beneath a matching loosely-fitting black jogging sweatshirt. By the lift of his eyebrows, he is surprised to find Janet there, but it's a pleasant surprise given the small smile that appears on his face.

"A movie in the rec room? Sure. I wasn't doing anything important," he replies with a dismissive wave towards his project once she's done explaining. "Whatcha thinking for movie? Food too?" The Captain steps out into the hallway and closes the bedroom door before falling into step beside Janet, his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet hesitates, but falls into step with Steve. "I mean... my room," she clarifies. "Not the rec room. I just want you to myself for a little bit." She bites her lips together, looking up at Steve, and then slips her arm through the loop of his elbow and leans on him to prompt his attention. "This is one of those couples things," she explains. "Spending time together without chaperones or friends dropping in or ... Deadpools." She sighs and rolls her eyes a little.

"I know you're still working on your big list. I thought we could pick something off of that. And I can send the attendant into town for something. Chinese food?" she offers. "I hate to break it to you but if you're keen on the idea of me as a domestic goddess, I can't cook at all. I've burned water. Twice. Hate to knock myself off that pedastal in your mind, but..." Her hand flips through the air, matching a sparkling grin up at Steve.

Captain America has posed:
"I think I would have been flabbergasted if I'd caught you trying to cook, Janet," admits the man adjusting his arm as to be all the more comfortable to hold. He laughs to lighten the news. "We're all busy. We could probably keep half the local restaurants in business by ourselves alone." Still, he does sober enough to give the fashionista a reassuring little grin.

"You'll get me all to yourself tonight. Seems only fair. Hard enough to find time around here to do much else but prep for the next incident." Realizing that seems incredibly pragmatic and this is technically courting by his own book, he then adds, "Chinese food sounds wonderful. Crab rangoon on the side? Eggrolls. Probably...what, six? Seven?" By his tone, he's teasing at the high number...or is he? The twinkle in his true-blue eyes down at her might give it away.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"But that'd only leave you the one!" Janet says, in mock protest. She rolls her eyes tolerantly and digs in her waistband pocket (yes, she has those) for a cell phone. "Dial Jeremy." She walks on Steve's arm up the stairs to the second floor landing. "Jeremy, hey. Can you go into town and get me some Chinese food? No, go to Golden Palace. The one on Maple. Yep. Crab rangoon, pork fried rice, lo mein vegetables.." She eyes Cap. "Ten eggrolls-- yes, ten-- and then swing by Coldstone and pick me up something chocolate and something tropical. 'priece." She ends the call and smiles up at Steve. "Love that boy. He's getting married to his boyfriend this spring. I'm gonna have to give him a big bonus to convince him not to move to flippin' Cleaveland," she mutters.

Her door slides open and her room's been completely rearranged. Now there's a sofa instead of her desk and a tiny but powerful projector aimed at the wall opposite, where her drafting table was. Where that furniture currently is-- or its size-- is anyone's guess. She's lit a few candles into corners of the room where they provide a diffused light from inside their little lanterns. It looks ... very homey, all told. "I've got the movie service spun up and it's all ready to go." She releases Steve's arm and looks up at him, a little hesitant. "Is this okay?"

Captain America has posed:
Listening to the order be put forth, Steve can't keep the smile from compeltely appearing on his face again. The half-muted pull of it to one side sets him up with a wicked dimpled smirk. He lifts his brows to Janet at the potentiality of losing a prized assistant and shrugs. "Bonuses don't seem to be a bad thing, especially if he's a good man."

Once faced with the shifted state of the bedroom, especially sans drafting desk, he blinks in yet another iteration of surprise. "Oh. Oh, right, of course it's okay!" Stepping further into the room is proof of approval (as well as bolster of his own composure against a sudden racing of his heart -- tales of necking at the cartoons from Bucky crowd at the back of his brain before being shooed off). "Looks comfortable." He makes to flump onto the sofa with a grunt and then spreads his arms across the back of it, seated centrally as he is. He looks up at Janet. "What're you thinking for movie?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"It's *your* list, Steve," Janet reminds him with a smile. She stops near his seat on the sofa, one arm folded across her stomach and supporting her elbow on her fist. Fingers flick at the air near her face. "Whatever you want to watch. I can't remember where you were before-- like around the seventies?" she hazards. "Or do you want to watch something from--" she rolls her eyes. "Fifties. After you went under. Sorry. Someday I'll get that right." She rests a knee on his thigh and sliides forward, landing next to him with her knees curling to the side and resting against his leg. "Or we can just... talk. What books are you reading lately?" she inquires, and rests her elbow on the sofa near Steve's bicep to prop her head up on her fist.

Captain America has posed:
When her weight settles beside him, the man finds that he can't look away. The warm ambience of the candles brings everything to softer edges and glowing contours. Wow. Deliberate -- and successfully entrancing. Dry-mouth is a very real possibility shortly. Steve shifts on the couch to better align his spine and sighs.

"Books. I just finished one called 'The Rising Tide'. Historical fiction about the war, like they pulled journals from various people. The author touched upon northern Africa, in the European theatre. Buck was there for some of the war. It was...interesting," he allows, as if his opinions on it are far more complicated than the situation warrants. "But you asked about what movie I want to watch." His dimples slowly begin to appear.

"Y'see, once I entered the war, I was too busy to watch cartoons and films. But there was one that caught my eye. Lots of coverage, lots of rah-rah about it. Black and white." He glances from the wall and back to Janet. "Does 'Casa Blanca' ring a bell?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's eyes go wide. "Wow. Serious?" She gives Steve a look of smouldering intrigue. "For a second there I thought you were pulling my leg. That's one of those cheesy 'look how classy I am' movies that guys bust out to prove how sophisticated their tastes are. The rest of their movies are like... Transformers I-VI and Dumb and Dumber." She wrinkles her nose and digs for her phone. It controls the video player and takes her just a few seconds to order the film online. The movie starts buffering and a warm, full audio fills the room. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Berman have their names scrawled across the screen and Janet curls into Steve, almost burrowing into his side. One palm rests on his abdomen and she nestles her head against his shoulder, curling her legs in close. "So this is like, the real story of Bucky in Africa?"

Captain America has posed:
The Captain's eyes travel around the room at the sudden growth of quality sound. It's veritably hundreds of times better than what he would have appreciated back in 1942. He does give Janet a bit of a wide-eyed glance as she snuggles in against him. However, his arm does fall from the back of the couch to wrap around her in gentle draping. There's no insinuation of containment in the motion, simply further invitation to remain as she is.

"'s not how it really went, no," he murmurs to her with a turn of his head as to better aim words at her ear. He doesn't look away from the screen as the movie begins properly. "Hollywood had its way with it. Buck doesn't talk much about that time anyways."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet would like nothing more than nuzzling in, but the conversation seems to intrigue her. She sits more upright, her posture highlighting her straight-necked posture and the subtle hollow of her throat. She watches the movie quietly for a few minutes and when Ingrid Behrman appears again, she squeezes Steve's thigh to get his attention. "So you're saying that Bucky *didn't* run a bar in Morocco where an ex ambushed him for a passport home?" she whispers.

Captain America has posed:
The movie's grey-scale glow reflects in Steve's eyes as he watches. By his expression, he wants very badly to be fully amused by it -- and he is, to a good extent, especially with the period accuracy of the slang, clothing, weaponry... -- but there's still that element of disbelief. Janet's gentle touch has him looking over sharply as he comes back to the present.

"Even if he looks like the kinda guy who might do it, 'm pretty sure he didn't," the man murmurs back with a soft laugh that might break on her cheek. "He was out on the front lines; 'n if he wasn't on the front lines, he was undercover 'n that was no joke back then."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I'd kinda like to get to know him." Janet looks over at Steve after that comment. "I mean, y'know. In a context where I don't look like a crazed stalker," she clarifies. Shoulders wiggle in a shrug that dances shadows over her collarbone. "He's your best friend. Girl's gotta know what her guy's friends think of him, and he's the only person who knew you back in the day."

Her door buzzes and she rises smoothyl, fingers trailing along Steve's skin as she steps to the portal. She pauses the video on the way. "Besides, he's gonna have all the good dirt on you." She winks at Steve and opens the door. Her assistant bustles in with a *serving tray* and all the food on proper plates, each kept warm with coverlets. It's the sort of service one expects at 5 star hotels. "Miss van Dyne, Mister Rogers," he says, nodding deferentially. His short, curly brown hair bounces with the motion. "Your dinner. I took the liberty of stocking the drinks underneath, ma'am," he tells her. "Champagne, an oatmeal stout for the gentleman, and rum for the lady." The little liquor cabinet even has the proper glasses for each drink and ice packed around the bottles to keep them cold.

"Marvelous. I think I'm done with you for the evening, Jeremy. Why don't you knock off early? If I need anything I'll call you."

"Ma'am. Captain." He nods again, a crisply efficient gesture, and disappears back out the door.

"That boy really does think of everything, doesn't he," Janet says with a beaming approval. She might even be a little younger than him. "Can I buy you a drink, Captain America?" she offers, and starts setting the plates in front of Steve on the low coffee table.

Captain America has posed:
"...dirt," grumbles Steve good-naturedly after a snort at the reasoning for wanting to get to better know his childhood friend. His additional snark falls out as he turns on the couch to watch the arrival of the food itself, all gussied up and on display as something far more fine than white take-out boxes with cheerful red designing and titles. He nods to Jeremy in greeting alongside a little wave of his hand still resting along the sofa's back-ledge.

Once Jeremy disappears again, he gives Janet an impressed look. "He really does think of everything." His grin, however, is due to being charmed by her question, and he replies, "Sure, Miss Wasp. How about an oatmeal stout? Can't say no to that." Reaching out, he uncovers what appears to be the collection of crab rangoon and snags one with his bare fingers. A small sound of happiness follows after the crunch into it. "Mmmfff - 'ot," he says with a laugh as it burns his tongue. Oh well. Delicious!

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet produces a cold mug-- frost literally adhering to it-- and cracks open the stout. It spatters against her hand and she makes a noise of protest at the brown foam. She pours like a champion bartender, though, leaving exactly three-quarter inch of foam bubbling on the surface of the mug.

When Steve burns his tongue, she laughs at him reflexively. "Poor baby. Have some patience, it'll still be good in a minute and you won't burn yourself." She pulls out a bottle of a pre-mixed rum cocktail and pours herself a highball full of ice and the cocktail over the cubes. They *Crack* with the change in temperature and she muddles with a rod once before moving to curl next to Cap again. Apparently she can't sit in a chair like a human being, because she kneels on the sofa next to Steve and serves a little plate up for each of them. She withholds Steve's plate for a second, giving him an impish look. "Lemme see that tongue before I give you hot food. I can at least kiss it better." She grins at him with alook more mischevious than lascivious.

Captain America has posed:
Having taken up the blissfully-cold mug in-hand and medicating his burnt tongue with a mouthful of the oatmeal stout, Steve pauses in extension. The drink rests on the coffee table beside the semi-revealed tray of crab rangoon. Returning to an easy lean back against the couch once more, he eyes Janet and the conditional plate of food. Slowly, an eyebrow rises.

"If I didn't know any better, Janet, I'd say you're trying to train me too. What's the pattern of behavior..." he muses teasingly, lips pursed. "Kiss you, get something nice out of it?"

Still, that's a slow lean in and given the fashionista's hands are occupied with keeping Chinese food from being dumped, the kiss lingers at a decent pressure for about three seconds. Oatmeal stout's a present taste. Pulling away, Steve then makes to take his plate. "Thanks, Janet, good lesson," he murmurs with hitch in his voice.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet leans into the kiss with restrained enthusiasm, enjoying the slow and deliberate way Steve embraces her. She rests her brow against his when they break and gives him a delighted, breathless grin. "Mmm. Yummy." Fingernails rake a gentle path against the suggestion of stubble on his jawline and she stands up again. "The kiss *is* the nice thing. The whole point is that I don't need to throw you a cookie every time you kiss me." She grins at him and seats herself once more, kneeling facing Steve with her plate balanced on her thighs. "Or use a clicker." She gives Steve a wholly innocent look and crunches into her steaming-but-not-scalding eggroll.

Captain America has posed:
"Knew you were using a clicker." Equal part remonstrative and amused, Steve gives her a side-eyeing even as he takes up one of his own eggrolls. By the even tone, he's managed to keep down the worst of the butterflies in his stomach. Gambit successful. "If you use a clicker with me, I'll..." The pause is for creative gumption. "...be very disappointed in you." For all it seems like a bland threat, it's a real promise -- anything but disappointment from Steve! Or so seems the trend. He crunches into the eggroll and makes another sound of delight.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Works for puppies and attack dogs, figured it'd work on Wade. He's nuts but clicker traini's supposed to cut through a lot of that. Worst case, I get a few laughs out of irritating him mildly for a few days."

Contrary to Steve's butterflies, Janet looks like the soul of self-possession. She eyes Steve impishly at the suggestion of a clicker. "You know there's a guy named Pavlov who found out how to make dogs associate foods with a bell. He found he could ring the bell and make them starts salivating."

She slides her weight forward and rises so she's in a high kneeling position, straddling Steve's thigh. One hand holds her plate aloft and away, and the other caresses his forehead and cheekbones before tousling his hair with an idle playfulness. "Iiii could think of a few things I could get you to associate with a clicker," she says with a casual urbanity.

Captain America has posed:
With his own plate held off to one side so no food //dare// get onto the fashionista's pristine clothing, Steve continues to look up into her face with what appears to be rueful amusement.

"I know about Pavlov and I know a good number of things you could associate with a clicker. Your imagination is likely as good as mine," he replies as he smirks. There's no saving his hair now, not with the mild coating of gel once holding it in place now redistributed in a showing of what could be construed as 'bed-head'. "But if you think you're gonna get me to start drooling over you, you've got another thing coming, shortcakes." The nickname is a slip of fondness. As if to spite her attempt to shake up the wings in his stomach, he brings the eggroll to his mouth and takes another bite, chewing drolly at her.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet lifts a brow at Steve's use of 'shortcake'. "I *already* know you're drooling over me, Steve. Your imagination needs a little..." She leans towards his ear, lips brushing the earlobe. "Exercise." She gives his chin a playful pushing little chuck and slides backwards to stand up smoothly. "And really? Short jokes?" She sets her plate aside, hands resting on her hips. "You know the kids all call you Captain Dorito, right?" She waits a beat, then mimes a triangle drawn with both hands in the air about the size of Steve's torso. "There's also Capsicle, Ol' Man, Winghead-- that one made me laugh-- Steverino... Oh, Glamour-Pants." She switches counting from her right hand to her left. "I can keep going," she offers, lips curling into a wry and lopsided grin to go with hiked brows.

Captain America has posed:
Thank god he's able to restrain the little shiver that dances up his spine and into his scalp at the whisper. It zips free in goosebumps after she's stood up and left his personal space. Woof. Steve finally swallows his mouthful of eggroll and then gives her a gimlet look.

"Hah-hah. Glamour-Pants. Haven't heard that one in a while. I was hoping that one had died a quick death, but..." His eggroll inscribes a small haphazard shape on the air. "Those damn tights. Never should have agreed to the tights," he laments quietly before snorting a laugh nonetheless. "But go on. Hit me with your best shot, shortcakes." Again with the nickname, almost as a dare, along with his own variant on eyebrows lifted high.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet nods at Steve, slowly. Challenge accepted. Suddenly, she lunges! She's in his lap, hands are swarming his body, lips near his face-- and then she's gone again in a flash, dodging away from the sofa towards the other end of the room. There's a cell phone in her hands. Fingers fly over the screen. Steve's screen. "Y'know PINs are the easiest thing in the world to compromise," she admonishes Steve. "You really need to use the fingerprint scanner." She wiggles the unlocked screen at Cap. "0341, right? Oooh, let's text BUCKY," she gasps, and starts trying to find his name in the contacts. "I bet he's got some great stories!"

Captain America has posed:
It's a blitzkreig! Steve makes a choked sound of surprise at the sudden in-rush and nearly loses his plating of food to the sofa. Juggling the plate means unavoidably losing his phone and he watches her dance lithely off with owlish expression. A quick patting-down of his pockets is proof that his phone is indeed in the fashionista's hands and he's already pointed a finger at her.

"You text that man anything about nicknames, Janet, and he's gonna know it's not me. You're not gonna get answers outta him that way. You know it," he reminds her with a dimpled smirk, very certain that he's correct. An outstretched hand silently demands his phone back.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet keeps one eye on Steve, edging away from his easy grappling range. "Maybe. Maybe not. Ooh, selfie!" She blows a kiss at the camera, Steve smirking in the background. "There we go. Let's see. 'Bucky its Janet,'" she says aloud. Fingers fly over the datapad. "'Steve is being Steveish and won't stop teasing me so if he got a boot camp nickname or something lmk thx <3 ;)'."

She lowers the phone and stares levelly at Steve. There's a long few moments of silence. Steve's smirk surely grows. Janet's smile begins to stiffen.

Ding.

She raises a brow and her smile becomes positively vulpine. "Oh look! A text from Bucky." She starts to read, then holds the phone to her sternum. "I think it's so sweet that you two are so close. Really. I need to send him a nice fruit basket or something. Or ammo. What's he into, chocolate bonbons or hollowpoints?" She keeps edging away from Steve, knowing full well how fast he can move.

Captain America has posed:
At the sound of the reply text, Steve's ruthlessly-amused expression shatters like fine china. He goes wide-eyed and frankly just stares for a handful of seconds. Once Janet asks after hollowpoints, however, he's putting the plate aside and letting out a stream of Gaelic that can't be anything but invective as he makes to grab at his phone.

"That PUNK!" His hand likely whiffs through the air as he attempts a quick turn on the balls of his feet to follow the Wasp's retreat. Bummer that socks give less traction on the floor than sneakers or combat boots. That'll teach him to no wear the latter! "Gimme my phone back right now, Janet!"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"EEP!" Janet shrieks and dodges away from Steve. "I KNOW WHAT THAT WORD MEANS STEVE ROGERS!" She darts backwards and dances around her bed, backed into a corner. A desperate lunge almost carries her past Steve but he's too quick to get around. As long as she's got his phone, shrinking's not gonna work. "I will wash your mouth out with soap!"

He lunges and she yelps and leaps sideways, trying to scramble across the bed. She's fairly agile but he gets a hand on a slender ankle. "No! Nononoononoooo!" Janet's hauled back, but she's not done with the fight. Abruptly she pushes back and slithers her legs up Steve's arm like two snakes, twisting to apply a leglock to his shoulder. It buys a few precious seconds.

"Fair and square! Suck it!" She squirms like mad on her belly, trying to kick loose, and as a last resort holds the cell phone at the very end of her arms and squints at it while Steve's scrabbling at her hands.

"...What the hell does 'Jasmine' mean?" she asks, baffled.

Captain America has posed:
"I'll eat a bar of soap and like it!" Steve fires back as he tries to handle the squirmy fashionista carefully enough and get his phone back all at the same time. He's delicate yet firm about the grip on her ankle and bedcovers rumple up as her cling fails her against his serum-boosted strength.

"Ow! ACK!" However, the shoulder-lock is detrimental to snatching back the smart-phone from her and he falls to one side on the bed, his other hand hampered in his reaching by the breadth of his own chest. Socks scuff on the floor as he grits teeth and now works at unprying her legs from around his bicep and tuck of armpit. Another stretched reach glances off her wrist and then his efforts freeze up like an engine in a blizzard.

"...that -- " The far-shorter, equally-emphatic Gaelic cursing leaves him before he finally gets the phone back from her with a hard yank. "Tour nickname," he replies tersely as to 'Jasmine' before he makes to stand up. Unless Janet lets go of the leg lock, she'll be hanging upside-down like a bat from his arm.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet dangles happily. Steve is basically government climbing equipment, after all, and she seems relatively sure he won't drop her. "Oh, c'mon," she croons. With a smooth roll of motion she rolls sinuously upwards, until she's got hands wrapped around the back of his neck. She then levers up to more or less sit against him, thigh curling against his hip and her arms gripping his columnar neck and shoulders to stabilize herself. "It's gotta be a good story. How'd you get a *tour* nickname? I thought you got nicknames for doing soldier stuff, like 'Dynamite Dan' or 'Machine Gun' Joe."

Captain America has posed:
With a quiet grunt, and after hiding away his phone in his pants pocket again, Steve rotates his arm to lift Janet up a la cheerleader-style to his shoulder as a far better perch. It takes little effort. She's bantam-weight at best compared to him, all lean muscle and delightful curves. He walks back over to the sofa at a sedate pace and once there, pauses to look up at the fashionista.

"Promise to keep this story to yourself. It doesn't go on any public or private social media or leave your mouth without my permission first." He's deadly-serious in his request given how he holds her eyes with keen attention.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet 'eeps!' and laughs again, and balances on Steve's shoulder with her knees angled towards his chin. Her other hand holds his fingers for stability, but she doesn't otherwise get down until they get to the sofa. Then she sort of slithers down the front of Steve's body and holds his gaze with a flirty sort of challenge until she's sitting on the sofa, legs folding under her.

She makes a face at the oath of secrecy. "Ugh. I hate keeping secrets. But-- okay. For you, I promise." She air-kisses once at him. "But it has to be *hilarious*. And don't leave anything out!" she admonishes him.

Captain America has posed:
"I'm holding you to that," Steve reminds her as he sits down. He takes up his plate again and makes sure to finish his eggroll (the first of many) as well as clear out his mouth with two large swallows of the oatmeal stout. Then, clearing his throat, he leans back against the couch and puts one arm around behind Janet.

"So...you know about the Howling Commandos. Buck was part of the group too, back in the war. The reason that...ridiculous nickname came about is because we were pinned down at one point in Grasse, France. That's perfume-making territory. Best of the best still comes out of that part of Europe, generations-old colognes and all." He waves his hand as if to brush the minor tangent aside. "We had to make our way close to the enemy encampment and used an abandoned perfume factory as cover. It was as they left it when the company ran. Everything was standing, coats were hung over chairs, little bit of dust. We're being quiet as churchmice when I crunch something under my foot. Whole company freezes. Everybody drops to their knee, guns ready." Steve's got both hands up and out, talking with them as he tells the tale. "Nobody makes a peep. Nobody else fires back. There were no scouts in the building after all. We all sigh in relief. We leave the building and set up camp nearby for the night. Dugan, the Brit, comments later on, "Somebody smells like pansies." Buck..." And Steve laughs, momentarily spanning his eyes with one hand in exasperation. "Buck goes, "Nope, that's Captain Jasmine over here. God, Steve, you reek of it." I'd stepped on a bottle of jasmine concentrate. It was on my boots, spattered up my suit's legs -- I'd gotten it on my hands and touched my collar..."

The Captain shrugs, a little color at his cheeks. "The Commandos joked that the Nazis could smell me coming. I think they did, once or twice, but thank god nobody expected me to come flying over the berm. Bucky insisted they were expecting French prostitutes instead," he deadpans.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet shifts sideways again on her knees when Steve sits, and arranges herself so she can prop an elbow on the sofa back and support her head.

When the story finishes, she starts laughing. She can't help it. Face and ears turning red, eyes watering, and she just shakes her head emphatically to indicate she really can't!

"Ohhh my god." She reaches for her rum and takes a few gulps to calm her down and settle her nerves. "That is so funny. 'Captain Jasmine'," she quips. "That's it, I'm sending Bucky a fruit basket." She digs for her phone and says "Bucky Fruit Basket".

"I bet the barracks smelled great for a month after that though," Janet teases Steve. "Even if the enemy could smell you downwind. Guess it didn't hurt, right? You got through it OK."

Captain America has posed:
Steve waits out the cackling-fest with bemused patience, unable to help half-smiling despite himself. 'Tis a rueful dimple, for sure. He watches her command the phone to send Bucky his gift in exchange for a tale and snorts to himself, shaking his head. That's going to be a random appearance in the man's room and/or desk at the Triskelion.

"The barracks smelled great," he confirms drolly. "Everybody got through it okay. Morita promised he'd make me his flower-boy when he got home and wedded his fiance." Not ring-bearer or flower-girl, mind you: flower-boy. "Dernier used to say something in French I could never figure out. Buck...he knew better than to tease in front of the officers or the other soldiers, but my god..." Steve's eyes go distant and he fully smirks before coming back to the present and looking at Janet once more. "I think I threw my boot at him one time and he thanked me for the bouquet."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet laughs again. She lifts her head from her fist and shifts closer to Steve. "You'd make a cute little flower boy. We can get you some formal shortpants and school socks and a little bowler and tie. Like an overgrown little schoolboy."

Her hand rests agains Steve's neck and she teases his hair, playing with it and examining it with a pleasant sort of laziness. "Y'know, I think you need to put more money in the swear jar. I bet if we reviewed all the secureity camera footage we'd see you swearing more than anyone else. Just because you swear in Gaelic doesn't mean you're *not swearing*."

Captain America has posed:
"Think you'd catch me dead in that ensemble first." However, she drops the subject and Steve's grateful for it. It's potentially a very real threat from the fashionista given the materials at her fingertips at all times. He sits back and watches her, allowing the gentle touches and trying to ignore the goosebumps they cause.

Her observation makes him smile and it's...decidedly smug yet again. "I think you'll find that while you //might// be right," he allows, " -- the jar's got an addendum on it: live swears only. Otherwise, I could collect enough money from you," the Captain patpats her thigh lightly," -- and everyone else in here in one week to buy myself a second motorcycle."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Da--arnit," Janet says, catching herself. She quirks a grin at Steve. "Okay, fine. But I'm on the lookout for you now, buster brown," she tells him. Fingers continue to move in independent little circles, ploughing through Steve's hair like deer through a field of wheat.

"Is money stuff hard for you? I mean, emotionally, like... I hear about people who think cream for their coffee is a luxury. Your room doesn't have a lot of stuff in it, and--" Something occurs to her. "I've never seen your apartment, come to think of it. We spend all our time here at the mansion."

Captain America has posed:
"You haven't seen my apartment," Steve agrees mildly. He leans into the would-be scalp massage without appearing to intend to do as such as he lets out a thoughtful hum. "I don't drink coffee with creamer, but that's an apt example nonetheless. It's...I've got a different way of approaching it, sure. Just don't see the point of having so many things when I can get along fine with what I have. Use it until it's done. Fix it if it's broken. Why fix what isn't broken or replace it? Seems a waste." He shrugs. "Don't get me wrong, I like my little indulgences. The coffee's quality is leaps and bounds ahead of what I've drank in the past. Long hot showers without being worried I'll run the water out. Comfortable clothing." The Captain plucks at the sweatshirt he wears. "It's the little things."

He then smiles knowingly at Janet again. "But you'll never catch me swearing without good reason. D'you know Gaelic then? Greet me good evening and tell me how your day went," he challenges gently.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Uh.. cic maith sa... er." Janet wrinkles her button nose. "Cic maith sa tooney ata something something something, but I know it means 'he needs a kick in the ass'," she tells Steve. "I only really bothered with the curse words. Best way to learn a language is to hear people cussing, it's how I started learning Spanish." She grins. "Little old ladies have horribly filthy mouths when they think a rich girl from uptown can't understand them."

She chews the inside of her cheek, regarding Steve with a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes. "Y'know my company is broken into two parts. The fashion house is where I do all the model work, the tailoring, custom production, that sort of thing. That's for the, like, fashion world, red carpets, whatever. Some of the outfits we've done are like... a hundred hours of labor and tens of thousands of dollars in exotic fabrics. That's stuff that gets repaired if it gets damaged." She waves in one direction. "Over here," she says, gesturing with her free hand, "is my retail side. We have a domestic plant but the bulk of it comes from factories in Thailand, Taiwan, I wanna say ..." She squints skywards. "Lahore and I thiiink we've got one in Serbia now. I can't remember. An assembly-line t-shirt costs maybe five bucks to make. If it goes to like, Old Navy, it sells for $30. If we direct them to some of our incognito outlet stores, we sell them for $20. But if that shirt rips, it's not really worth paying a professional tailor ten or twenty dollars to mend it. Does that make sense?"

Captain America has posed:
Her attempt to properly curse in Gaelic is enough to make Steve chuckle. "There's a kick to catching people off-guard when they think they aren't being understood, yeah. I'll teach you more useful things than telling people someone needs a beat-down," he says with a grin.

Her explanation has him listening and then appearing to mull through the information. "Makes sense, but that's a matter of quality. If I'm going to spend money, I'm going to spend it well, not on something I could throw away or use as a dish rag after I tear out a seam lifting weights in the gym downstairs. Spend the money, fix it when it breaks. Otherwise, it seems...frivilous. But I know, antiquated line of thought," he's sure to demure on the subject. "World's gotten bigger, full of more people, gotta get the necessities to those who need them. Besides, there are folks out there who need the money more than I do. It goes to them when I can manage it."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"No, honey, I'm--" Janet lifts a hand, waving it horizontally through the air. "I'm not trying to get you to change or defend yourself. I didn't mean it like that. I meant that the consumption culture isn't so much about wastefulness as efficiency of production. That's all." Lips curl into a rueful smile. "Sorry. I'm a capitalist," she says, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm not saying don't buy quality if you can afford it, I'm just..." She purses her lips. "I don't know. Sorry. I get defensive about it sometimes," she admits, and brushes back the bangs tickling at her eyebrows and manages to find enough to push behind one ear. "For me it's easy though, if I want a new living room set I call Nadege-- love her, she was my MFA teacher-- and we get brunch and she sends an Hermes design team over the next day. I've had my penthouse featured in a few design and decor magazines over the years," she says, proudly. Then she scowls. "But that bitch Trudy Beekman over in 21B decided to do a 'full remodel' of her condo that 'just happened' to finish six weeks before the reviewers came by, and I got bumped off the cover so they could showcase her balcony Zen garden." She grumbles and huffs at the very idea.

Captain America has posed:
Steve gives her thigh another soft patpat. "'nd I wasn't trying to make you defensive. So we don't see things the same way. 's'fine. We bring two viewpoints to the table and we can meet in the middle. Compromise can happen. Just...'m not gonna be the man who drops five-thousand dollars on a dinner. Now, Italian at the restaurant? That's fine. That was wonderful," he emphasizes with a smile. "I'd do that again. Homemade dinners -- easy trick."

Glancing over at the paused movie projected on the wall, he leans outwards to snag the still-cold mug of oatmeal stout. "This...this is a little thing. Nothing fancy, just order-in food, nice drink, and a great movie with a beautiful dame." He lifts the mug to Janet.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's neck and ears flush, and the indirect light gives her face a fetching quality. "Five thousand is a lot more than anyone spends on a dinner, even by my standards," Janet assures Steve. "But after you factor in drinks, aperitifs, yeah, it's not uncommon to drop a thousand or so at the more upscale places. Really where they get people is their drink list, selling them hideously overpriced champagne and rare liquors. I saw one of the Rockefellers get handed a check for fifty thousand dollars worth of champagne and scotch one night."

The chattering buys her time to get her blush under control and she rests her head on Steve, wriggling close so her temple can rest between his shoulder and chest. "Okay. Enough talking. Movie night resumes. I want to see how this film ends." She holds up her phone, flicks to the media controls, and hits 'play'.

"Kiss me," Ilsa says to Rick on screen. The audio creaks and rumbles with the sonorous depth only an acetate sound press can generate. "Kiss me like it's the last time."

Captain America has posed:
"Hit it," the Captain agrees as he sets aside his finished plate on the empty space of the couch beside him. A quick stretch to place the mostly-finished stein of stout on the coffee table and he leans back once more. Janet gets the length of his bicep to lean against as well as he stretches his arm along the back line of cushions. Even as the film gets going again, he lets his arm drop around to tuck against Janet's ribs. His palm ends up cupping the lean steel of her bicep. The gentlest rub begins, up and down on the bared skin, as if either soothing or fidgeting -- one or the other.

Janet won't miss the little sigh escaping Steve, given where her head lies, as he watches the old silver-screen romance blossom. The topple of the glass on the table doesn't even seem to phase his sensibilities. But damn those German guns!