7192/What, This Little Shiner

What, This Little Shiner
Date of Scene:	10 April 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Nobody gives Steve a black eye on Janet's watch!
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)

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Captain America has posed:
After speaking to Kitty over at Stark Tower and promising to pass word on to Janet about scheduling a visit to see the dress designed agreed upon, Steve returns to the Avengers mansion. He enters via a side door and makes his way up to his room via a set of side stairs. There's a short spate of whistling, rather musical despite the pitch, and by the bounce, it's a jigging tune. He enters into the hallway and meanders towards his door with hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, fleece lapels and all.

And one delightfully-glossy shiner over his left eye.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet doesn't come running when she hears Steve's whistle. She's a grown-ass woman, not some lovesick teenager scampering after her beau like a lost puppy every time she hears him arrive. The Mansion's relatively soundproofed, but with her door slightly cracked for... totally unrelated reasons, it's hard to miss Steve's arrival.

She twitches, looks at her phone clock. "Heaven's sake girl, can you not wait *five minutes*?" she hisses at herself, and goes back to examining her mail. "Have some discpline."



Two minutes, twelve seconds later, she drops an entire stack of cloth samples on the floor. "Oh no, clumsy me!" she gasps, already walking out the door. "I guess I need help after all."

She resists the urge to skipstep down the hall, and forces herself to a more sedate pace that's only *slightly* fast. There's a knock at Steve's door, and she pushes her nose in through the slight opening. "Steven, do you have a minute? I know you just got back but I need, um... a second set of hands, and I was wondering--"

She blanches, looking up at his face. "Oh my GOD, what happeend to your EYE?" she demands, dismay readily apparent in her voice.

Captain America has posed:
Of course the sound of the familiar cadence of knock as well as the presumptive opening of his own door has Steve turning around. He's in the process of examining his own mail, this a collection of fond regards as well as invitations to various functions around the city as well as outside of it -- and something more official-looking, but he's not sure what it is just yet.

There's a fond smile and little wince for her. His eye, on the bruised side, has an extra facet of blueness to it, no doubt set off by the ruddy undertones of the shiner. "Hey Janet. Field Readiness Evaluations happened to my eye," he says by way of explanation. Stepping to one side, he places the mail on his desk and wanders over. He wore a simple navy-blue cotton long-sleeve beneath his coat today, apparently. "Hand to Hand combat testing."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet bustles forward to grab Steve's face and haul him down for inspection. Thumbs and forefingers rest on cheekbone and temple, but she is at least careful and considerate enough not to poke him *right* in the eye. She's in red and tan, a sleeveless double-breasted blouse with a diving neckline that would be immodest on anyone else. Her slacks are high-waisted and tan, emphasizing the rondure of her hips and rear, and her vermillion four-inch pumps precisely match her clothing.

"God, with who? Bruce?" she asks, rhetorically. She squints at Steve, then moves to his fridge to retrieve two cold beers. She pops one and hands it to him, and while he's busy she wraps a damp cloth around the other and tries to press it under his bruise. "It was either Bucky or T'challa," she informs him, accusingly. "Who do I have to go beat up? I'll do it, you know."

Captain America has posed:
"Not Bruce." That much, Steve confirms as he places a palm over the smaller, daintier hand grabbing up the make-shit cold poultice. He directs her touch away from him, but only to take up the wrapped beers from her and then to bring her knuckles to his lips in a gesture right out of the silver screen. The kiss lingers as his eyes do on her face.

"You don't need to beat up anyone, Janet," he says as he straightens, still holding her fingers in a gentle grip. "The Director was present to judge the sparring and she knows I can take a hit. It's ducking I have to remind myself about." He dares a wincing wink with the black eye itself in tease. "'nd it's all on video anyways."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's eyes go wide in outrage as Steve removes her TENDER MINISTRATIONS from his face. Admittedly, Janet's got the bedside manner of a gorilla, but she's trying, darnit!

But then Steve's kissing her hand in precisely the sort of way that makes her knees weak, and wide-eyed indignation turns into a fawning sort of servility as he tries to make himself comfortable. "I didn't say I *need* to beat someone up," Janet protests a beat later, and tries to push past the pink heat in her cheekbones. "I said I *can*," she clarifies, with a haughty disdain for the historical record.

She prouds Steve with both palms, trying to propel him towards a low chair or seat to rest on. And she grips his wrist, too, trying to get him to apply the improvised coldpack near the swelling. "I know, ice sucks, honey. But it'll help," she murmurs, with a moment of tender reassurance.

For a moment, anyway. She picks up Steve's opened beer and takes a swig since he's not drinking it. "Director. Director May. /Bucky/," Janet says, putting that chain of logic together. Eyes go wide, she nods solemnly, and the beer-holding hand extends a wagging index finger at Steve. "Okay. Okay. Noted," she mutters, and gives him a grim nod.

Captain America has posed:
"I don't have a problem with this kind of ice," the Captain informs her as he slouches a little in his chair. He's apparently set to humor her now by how he presses the improvised pack against the outside of his eye. Janet can have the beer for all the reaction he makes over her drinking it -- which is none save for a small smile.

The smile fades away and, yes, that's Steve rolling his eyes. "Do me a favor and don't go after Buck, please, Janet. This was sanctioned sparring. He's one of the few who had hold his own against me in a fair fight hand to hand. Besides...threw him so hard his head went through the sparring room wall, so we're even." Those broad shoulders shrug.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet scowls at Steve's remonstration rather prettily. It doesn't take a keen observer to see that she's looking mad for the sake of appearances over anything else. Clearly of late, Steve's casual instructions are taken with a lot less objection than they used to. An approving smile curls at the corners of her mouth-- completely unaware of it-- when Steve admits he got the upper hand in the fight.

Despite him saying 'even'. Reality is clearly whatever Janet wants it to be.

"...I'unno," she concludes rather archly. Her chin lifts with a haughty imperious that'd be impressive if she didn't lid her eyes coyly instead of going for a more challenging narrow-eyed glare. "What's in it for me if I play ball?" She shifts her weight forward and rests her shin atop his thigh, swaying her shoulders back and forth with a suddenly girlish coquettry.

Captain America has posed:
Steve, at first, goes still in surprise. Even after the passed time of their relationship, her forwardness continues to take him off-guard. Genteel habits die such a hard death with him. Plus, there is the neckline of the red, red, very-red blouse to try and pull his gaze from her face with the force of near-magnetism.

"My....eternal gratitude?" he offers up in his own parry of tease as he relaxes more into the plush backing of his chair, his arm firmly claiming one of the rests as his own.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet sighs theatrically, lips sliding in opposite directions in a wry moue of playful disapproval. She pushes off Steve's leg, straightening, and absently dresses her trousers so they drape properly again. "Oh, sweet little lamb. We'll get you there someday," she says. She gives Steve an impish look and bends over at the waist, rather pointedly, and hovers a wicked smile near Steve's temple. Her hands rest on his mid-thigh for balance, she murmurs something in his ear, and then lazily straightens. The fashionista saunters past him, leaving perfume in her wake and dragging her nails lazily across his shoulder.

Her sensual energy dissipates in a few strides and she flops onto his bed like a teenager. Janet rolls onto her side to prop her head up on palm and elbow. "Hey, do you think Bucky would teach me some fighting moves?" she asks, in a more normal tone of voice. "I've been trying to think of a way to socialize with him," she explains. "Maybe if he gave me some lessons, we could, like, bond a bit, or whatever."

Captain America has posed:
Steve wrinkles his nose at the fond assignment of lambkin. However, the momentary ire rapidly evaporates in the face of -- with his face in -- y'know what, that neckline again and the addition of the whisper curling about the shell of his ear. She leaves him watching her go with a faintly beseeching light in his true-blue eyes and then resettling himself in his chair to continue marking her travels.

Those hips don't lie.

Her shift in demeanor has him laughing ruefully to himself and moving the ice against his face. "Mmm..." The lower pitch of the Captain's thoughtful hum might suggest disagreement at first. "Dunno if he would, honestly. He doesn't volunteer his skills around the Triskelion in teaching anyone else. Could always text him and ask." By the lift of his brows, he's clearly referencing the last time Janet shot him a note and got 'Captain Jasmine' as a reply.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet casts around for Steve's phone, rolling this way and that, and spots it on the table across the room. She flails and worms her way off the bed, because there's no graceful way to get off a mattress, right?

She crosses the room, picks it up, and tries to unlock it. It beeps a denial. She frowns, enters a code, and it beeps again.

"What the heck," she mutters, and looks to Steve. Brows lift. "Oh snap, you changed your PIN," she mutters. "Damnit. I knew I shoulda poked around in your DMs more while I was in there."

She pumps her arm once and tosses the phone at Steve. "Can I get his number from you?" she requests, and moves to his bed to kneel on it rather than sit normally. "I mean, unless you wanna persuade him for me." She bats her lashes at him twice, encouragingly.

Captain America has posed:
Oh, the quiet smug emanating from the Captain as he sits in his chair, appreciating how the cold is worming its way into his throbbing skull and also pleased with himself for changing the number combination on the touch-screen phone. It's fun to watch the fashionista come to the realization that she's not going to just weasel around in his phone willy-nilly.

A quick lift of his hand catches the object in mid-air and he flips it around in his fingers to face himself even as he glances over at Janet.

"You know me pursuading him will probably go a bit like, 'Hey, Buck, Janet wants sparring lessons from you.' 'Oh yeah, Steve, why me?' 'Because you gave me a black eye and apparently, that ranks in her book.' 'You forgot to duck, you big meatball.' 'I know that now.' 'Why didn't she ask me herself?' 'Dunno, the minds of women are mysterious places.' And then we'll both nod like we're the wisest men on earth." Steve shoots her his own variation on an eat-shit grin.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"See, we've only been together two weeks and you've already got this entire dynamic figured out," Janet tells Steve with a beaming smile of approval. "Defer to my beautiful wisdom and charismatic expertise at all times, and you'll never run afoul of anything ever. I give *very* good advise."

She watches Steve fussing with his phone and rolls onto her back, looking up at Steve upside-down with her head hanging off the bed. "It wouldn't hurt for you to point out to him how *very* much you love me, and keeping me happy with in turn *and* by proxy make *you* happy," she proposes.

Captain America has posed:
She can see the screen light up by its diffused glow on the lines of his chin. Steve snorts down at his phone and thumbs through the menu, given the new passcode's been input into the device.

"Pretty sure Buck would see through that line of logic quick. Nothing stopping you from asking him yourself." He glances up at the woman now observing him like an overly-curious owl, upside down as she's hanging. "Not gonna use subversive tactics like that. 's'not how our friendship works, me and Buck. I can bring it up to him, see what he thinks, but 'm not gonna press it. You want to text him still?" He's got his thumb paused overtop the screen, like as not lingering on the contacts page for Bucky himself.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Right," Janet agrees. "*You* wouldn't, but *I* totally will." She rolls over onto her belly and props her chin on her palms. Elbows dig into the mattress. "Subversive tactics are basically what got us together, anyway."

She nods twice at Steve's offer to message Bucky. "And for what it's worth, it's not that I don't like the idea of learning from you," Janet tells Steve. "Or, y'know, rolling around with you all... hot and sweaty, and half naked..."

She examines him with an unrepentant lasciviousness. "But I really do wanna *learn* some stuff and it's all things you already know, so you'd be bored and I'd be too distracted. This'll work out, I promise," she assures Steve.

Captain America has posed:
"I suppose it will." The Captain agrees laconically to how the cards might fall. Even he can't predict it, but he can guess well enough. Then, Janet gets to observe grade-A Rogers cheek in action.

He flicks to the messaging screen and after setting the capslock button, he then presses down the home key and dictates into the phone. "HEY BUCK STOP. JANET WAS THINKING ABOUT SPARRING LESSONS STOP. SAW MY SHINER AND WAS IMPRESSED STOP. MIGHT BE USEFUL FOR YOU BOTH TO TRY IT STOP."

The sound of a swoosh means the message is sent and Steve slips the phone back into his pocket. He then winks the black eye at the Wasp, signifying he's completely aware of the ridiculousness of the exchange.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet tilts her head to capture what Steve's dictating and her eyeroll is eloquent beyond words. By the time he's done with the text, she's just shaking her head with resigned exasperation at his antics. But the smile twitching at the corner of her lips belies any sincere regret. "Like a giant eleventh grader," she mumbles at Steve. "Thank god for that butt."

Janet pushes back up to a kneeling position, hands on her thighs. "Oh, speaking of-- I had this idea for a little charity project. I wanted to use the team for some modelling projects. Maybe a calendar photoshoot. Do a whole Avenger's fashion line," she tells him. "You know. Get the blue and red for Carol, something green and tweed for Bruce. Wanna be Mr. January?" she inquires, fluttering her lashes at Steve rather shamelessly.

Captain America has posed:
"Served me well, this butt," Steve murmurs under his breath as he slouches a little in his chair. He moves the ice back up to his face, still wearing a small and pleased smile. A tilt of his head and flick of brows as he listens to the proposition and what a proposition it is. It does bring a light pink to his ears.

"Mister January...been a long time since someone asked about that." What a revelation. "Suppose it depends on what I'd be wearing. You've already got it sketched out, I assume? Figure I'll give in and say yes?" Janet gets a dimpled grin. His phone goes off. Pulling it from his pocket, Steve frowns down at the reply text and snort-laughs even as he shakes his head down at the short message.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I was thinking of a thong and a tastefully embarassed expression," Janet quips back at Steve, almost immediately. Just to keep him off balance. Half the fun for the fashionista just seems to be pushing some of Steve's more conservative buttons.

She slides off the bed and moves to curl up in Steve's lap without invitation, nestling her slender curves against the ropey muscles in his torso. One hand takes the ice and tenderly repacks it near the bruise. She winces in response to any little flinch from the man. "I'm sorry, I'm sue it hurts," she murmurs with a sympathetic tone.

The *ding* of Steve's phone and his laugh prompts her to crane her neck and peer down at the phone quizzically to read Bucky's response.

Captain America has posed:
"Not gonna get me to show for photos if that's your plan," the Captain blithely informs the fashionista. He holds his phone at an angle and eyebrows at her. "I remember you already sparred with him once...in the cafeteria. Seems like he either doesn't remember this or wants me present for your sparring. Care if I attend on it? 'm not here to referee, you're both adults." He shrugs as if it's a given and it is.

"Could even tag-team him, keep him on his toes." There's the eat-shit grin from Steve again. He adjusts the ice with a little wince despite himself. "Maybe get a matching shiner for the one I have." It won't linger long regardless.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Soooo much fodder there, I just don't even know where to begin," Janet tells Cap with a wry, breathy voice that barely conceals a giggle. "I mean, just a joke-rich layer of subtext. Do I make a crack about you watching Bucky pin me, or do we just lean into it and go the whole circle that ends up with me getting tag-teamed by two super soldiers? Either way, I feel like it's a win for Janet," she tells Steve with a beamingly satisfied smile for her logical conclusion.

"No, but I was thinking like... something casual. 'Avengers' inspired attire," she clarifies, and with slightly-less-delicate fingers forces the ice pack back where Steve's favoring it a bit. Tough bedside manner, Janet has. "Like a gold business suit, or a sleek black Mandarin jacket."

"Did I show you my new suit concept?" Her mind flits from thought to thought without interrruption. "It's adorable. A little vintage, but I think it'll be a fun new look."

Captain America has posed:
The fashionista gets a good eyebrowing from Steve insofar as to the expansive conclusions drawn about sparring. Another snort follows and he slips his phone away. The return text will come later, after they figure out this potential calendar shoot.

Another wince at the shift of ice and a sigh from the Captain that deflates his chest she leans again. "You know I'm good for suits, even if I'm not good //to// the suits." He'll never live it down, the past destruction of a fine borrowed fitting. "See what the others think. You get enough heads involved in the project, I'll step in and suit up." Bah-dum-phsst.

"And no, you haven't shown the new concept. What's it, more aerodynamic? Nothing wrong with vintage. You've got a weakness for it anyways." The gentle tease is accompanied by a wrap of his spare arm about her to hold her close. She's all light weight, soft curves, and a familiar presence that relaxes some tension along his neck and spine. "Show me what you've got," he cajoles quietly, happy to sit and be an audience for Janet's ideas.