7018/You Got Lucky, Punk

You Got Lucky, Punk
Date of Scene:	24 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	A solution for the confusion between the Janets is discovered! On top of other fairly important things, it's to be noted.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
The trouble with having two Janets is that... there are *two* Janets. And they think exactly alike. They attack problems the same way. Their clever and wily, and not above a little manipulation. Just the process of separating clothing and cosmetics had complicated things.

But, finally, one of them broke free from the other. Timing? Providence? In any case, she slips out of the mansion and makes a beeline across town.

When Steve answers the door to his apartment, Janet's staring up at him. Low wedge pumps, black leggings, navy peacoat with the collar framing her delicate features. "Uh... hey," she says, with a timid smile. "I ditched the roboclone. You... um." She swallows. "Is this a bad time?"

Captain America has posed:
Silence at first from the Captain standing in the doorway. He's got a hand on the vertical edge of the door itself as if prepared to close it. A readiness lingers in his frame based in unease. He swallows once.

"No, not a bad time," he finally replies, voice low. "Just...wait for a second, okay?" Steve holds up a finger and momentarily leaves his stationed place as pseudo-guardian of his bastion of sanity. It is indeed just a second before he reappears again shrugging on a sweatshirt and wearing indoor slippers.

He then leans on the frame of the entryway, eyeing Janet. A Janet. The Janet? "C'mere," he them murmurs, inviting her into his personal space.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet pales when Steve leaves. At least he doesn't close the door in her face. And, mercifully, he doesn't leave her lingering on the threshold for long. When he beckons, she steps forward and buries her face against his collarbone. Cool fingers wrap around his neck and she hugs him as tight as her slender arms allow. "I'm sorry, I know-- I know I'm making things hard for you," she says, sniffling. "I just had to see you. I can ... I can go if you need me to." Fingers tighten on his sweater collar, betraying how much she dislikes that idea.

Captain America has posed:
"Shh..." Steve quietly soothes the fashionista. His heart pangs to hear the despair and he dips his chin to nuzzle his nose into the dark hair. A slow inhale...

...and the man's arms come around the smaller woman to pull her close almost to crush. "Oh, //seilean//, it's you -- it's YOU," he breathes. A poignant force is to be found in his voice, still quiet, and he kisses at the soft locks, smelling precisely of her daily bathing and preferred perfume. This -- this he would know even if drugged out of his fool mind.

She's real, this one.

"Don't go, no, stay. I made coffee -- there're muffins, leftover, but they're still good," he tells her, pulling back to look into her face. "It is you, my god." His true-blues look between her jewel-green eyes and the relief in them is silent eloquence.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Those bright green eyes overflow with tears of joy and Janet's hands reach to touch Steve's face. Cheekbones, lips, jaw, browline. "Yes. Yes! It's me!" She bursts into tears of relief and nods frantically before flinging her arms around Steve and hugging him harder. He can pull her along as needed; the Wasp isn't letting go of the Captain anytime soon.

It takes her a minute to recover her aplomb and she looks up at Steve with shining, wet eyes. Streaks run down her cheeks and she casts for something to dab at her eyes with. "God I'm glad I worn my no-run mascara," she sniffles. "Oh I feel better than I have in days," she says. Her palm presses to her belly as if banishing some lingering nausea. "I was terrified I was the clone. Or that we were twins. Or that we were both clones."

She looks up at Steve. "Part of me was really worried I was... gonna have to timeshare you or something," she admits, nose wrinkling. It's not in Janet's nature to share.

Captain America has posed:
Rather than have nosy neighbors wondering at a lover's quarrel on a doorstep, Steve does manage to usher them both into the apartment. He closes the door, all the while keeping one arm around Janet, and walks them both into the kitchen from the short entryway. While she sobs, he stands and rubs a broad palm between her shoulders up and down, taking a moment every now and then to press another kiss against her scalp.

Talk about an old-time gentleman: Steve pulls out a handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans to offer the woman, giving her a crooked smile equal parts relief and mild discomfort at seeing //her// so discomfited.

"A timeshare?" The Captain can't help but laugh, it sounds so absurd to him. "No, no timeshare. 'm not about to share you either." Possibly shocking from the man so outwardly laid-back about things. He reaches up to brush hair back from her face. "I'd know you, Janet. You're no clone. You're the original. It's your scent," he lets on and then laughs breathily once. "I know, it sounds ridiculous, but...it's true." His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet accepts the hankie gratefully and daps at her eyes. She's careful not to smudge the makeup she wears, however lightly applied. "Oh Steve," she sniffles. "God. I was panicking. I was riding over and thinking 'this is it, you've snapped, you're going to go stalk Steve'," she sniffles. "And I couldn't make myself turn around."

She lays a palm on his sternum and looks up at him with an overwhelming adoration, her green irises lost in a sea of black. "My smell. God." She widens her eyes in surprise. "T'challa was... sniffing around, asking about the perfume. I think he must have noticed it a little and not put two and two together." She drops her gaze to Steve's collarbone, and fingers curl so the nails scrape against his sweater. "I mean, granted, you weren't at the forefront of my mind at the time. I was thinking about you the whole way over, though."

Captain America has posed:
Another soft laugh escapes him. "'m not offended either way, Janet," he reassures her as to where he was in her attention the last day or two. "'nd I'm going to have to thank that man somehow. What he did while you were gone..." She's pulled against his chest again and Steve tucks chin, all the better to rest his cheek upon her hair once more. "Don't think I have to explain how worried I was."

His eyes rove to the coffee maker and he eyes the contents of the carafe. It's full enough, but mugs will need to be reheated. Another squeeze against the firm breadth of his chisled torso beneath the thin sweater and he makes to press a kiss against her temple as he attempts to step away.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's fingers hook into Steve's sweater so she can keep up, staying close to him as absolutely possible. "I was so scared," Janet confesses. "I was looking for you the whole time. I knew you'd save me," she assures him. "I saw the video footage from the frontal attack. You were so brave." Janet stares at Steve's face the entire time, refusing to look away.

If she frets her lower lip any harder, it'll start bleeding. Fingers curl around his forearm so she can hug herself against his bicep. "I'm sorry I got kidnapped. I didn't mean to worry you."

Captain America has posed:
They both make it over to the counter beside the coffee maker. Steve's arm slips around the fashionista and he turns in place to offer up the front of his person for her to rest against. "Janet, it wasn't your fault." The curl of a finger turned on its side slips under her chin. He holds her eyes and gently repeats, "It was not your fault. You did not invite this on yourself. Nobody blames you for a single thing, //seilean//. 'm no longer worried. You're here, right now, and you're safe with me."

The Captain leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "You're safe." His dimpled smile is fond. "D'you want some coffee? There're muffins too, like I said before," he reminds her.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet nods along with Steve, stepping in close as she can. She buries her nose against his chest and inhales deeply of his scent. "I'm here now," she agrees, with a murmur. She looks up at him again. "You-- did I hear that right? Shay-layn? What's that mean?"

Captain America has posed:
"//Seilean//," he repeats to the Wasp in Gaelic. "You've almost got it. Last part's more of a 'lahn'. It's Irish-Gaelic for 'wild honeybee'." The revelation is accompanied by the Captain's variant of a charmingly-crooked smile. He's still no better at dropping knickers by grin alone than his oldest friend, but he tries in the end. "A domesticated honeybee is another word. But you, Janet van Dyne? You're my honeybee, wild and free. My //seilean//."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet sighs. Or squeaks. Some combination thereof. The lower curve of her limp trembles at the emotions he stirs in her. Janet's eyes shine damp again, but with joy rather than relief. Almost gingerly she reaches up and touches Steve's jaw and cheekbones, exploring. Fingers curl him closer with a featherlight pressure and she kisses him slowly and repeatedly, her body bending backwards to stay as close to him as possible.

They break for air and she keeps him from standing too far off, fingers lacing through his hair. She bites her lip again, eyes flickering as she works up some inner reservoir of courage. "I love you, Steven," she says suddenly. Eyes widen as if the words slipped past her unexpectedly and she freezes in his arms with a sharp intake of held breath.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's expression collapses as he realizes what the delicate pressure is enticing him to do. The kisses are deliberate and unhurried, tinged with relief and brushed with the simply delight of engaging in the act. She leaves the Captain dazed and heavy-lidded when she pulls away, stooped as he is in the confines of her gentle hold about his mussed blond hair.

His tongue slips over his upper lip in passing as if to ascertain that he was just the recipient of such an impassioned laze of kissing and then? His hands, wandering as they are to between her shoulderblades and down at the base of her spine, freeze up too. He blinks once. Twice. A third time and then seems to come back to himself to some extent.

"//Chuisle geal mo chroi,// Janet," he replies with such cautious care. "We should have coffee." The light-headed thought comes along with a faint laugh, as if he's trembling inside and doesn't want to show it. "I mean, if you want any. Offered it twice now 'nd you don't have to have any if you don't want any. Same with the muffins. They're good muffins though."

And now he's babbling, just a little.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's breath hitches. She refuses to let go of Steve's face, thumbs brushing gentle paths across his high cheekbones. "St-steve, English, Steve, English," she pleads with him. Her face pales a little and she looks almost afraid. "What does that mean?" she begs. The question is clearly not what she wanted to ask and it speaks to the sudden numbness on the tips of her fingers.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain swallows. Hard. Uncertainty washes across his own features and he wonders briefly if he's messed this entire affair up by simply speaking the wrong language.

"It's Gaelic," he says in unnecessary explanation -- duh, it is. "It's another way of saying..."

Dry lips are licked again. "...of saying that..." Why is his heart up in his throat and his cheeks and his ears? It drums incessantly to drown out his capability to think clearly. Janet's own clothing rumples in his tightened gripping of closed fingers.

"That I love you too," he whispers, looking into those eyes gone greener than the hills of Eire.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
The color floods into Janet's cheeks and ears. The effect of his words on her is electrifying as giddy relief flushes through her body. Ears thunder with a heartbeat that surely paused for a few moments and she looks up at Steve with shining adoration again.

"Oh Steve," she whispers, and stands on her tiptoes to hug him as tightly as her slender arms allow. She buries her face against his neck, making squeaky sounds of happy tears and just rocking back and forth with him in her arms for a moment.

Captain America has posed:
A warm silence reigns in the kitchen of the Captain's apartment. He simply dwells in it, eyes shut, feeling his pulse-rate begin to slowly decrease. It feels a bit like leaping the final obstacle in a long-distance course, down to the way the adrenaline makes his extremities tingle still yet. It's a delightfully dizzy state to be in, when all's said and done.

"'m here, Janet," he whispers back to her.