7243/Terrible Topiary Decisions

Terrible Topiary Decisions
Date of Scene:	15 April 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Deadpool and Captain America FITE
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Captain America

---

Deadpool has posed:
Bounce bounce..! bouncebounce.

On a giant teal colored plastic ball, there is a particular and singular Wade balanced. He's laying on his back on the ball, his body pulled into a strong backwards arch, feet resting out and away from him. Both arms are up, as he has his phone out in one hand, the other dragging at the screen with one finger.

Wade is not in his red and blacks at all; instead, he is entirely dressed down in a gray zip-up hoodie, some magenta yoga-pants, and some blue and yellow striped athletic sneakers. His hands and head are entirely bare (aside from the hood being up). There's a pile of other equipment out: a bosu balance ball, some various kettle ball weights, including two jumpropes tied together, some elastic bands, a 'The Little Mermaid' towel, and an enormous metal chain located near a tiger-striped gym bag.

Captain America has posed:
Sneakers allow Steve to be somewhat sneaky while walking down the short hallway that leads to the gym area. The name is in the use, surely. However, he's not to be missed when he arrives with a small black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He's in a black muscle-shirt and grey sweatpants, his sneakers a rather pristine white. He must never take this pair outside of the mansion. His reflection in the mirrors along one wall precedes him and when he catches sight of Wade, he comes to an abrupt halt.

A hard sigh and then falls the duffel bag to the mat beneath him. There must not be anything overly precious in it. It makes a notable sound of impact.

"Wade. That bush. Didja have to?" The Captain pauses and puts hands on his hips, frowning. "Really?!" He doesn't raise his voice, but...he also doesn't need to.

Deadpool has posed:
Using his feet, Wade slowly is rotating the ball around under him. It turns such that his head is towards Steve as the Captain enters, which means Wade looks up and over at him upside-down from his strange position on the ball. He holds up one finger in a 'just a moment' gesture. He finishes jumping across the lava in his game, and his sparklepony survives the level!

"Just a minute. I'm cool with being yelled at for something I did. But what bush? WHOSE bush? I am pretty sure I did not fuck a bush recently. Normally I look at more than just that, though, and identify people by their faces. Or at least the backs of their heads. Shame on you. SHAME."

Captain America has posed:
"No -- " A splutter, the Captain's cheeks going pink. He rolls his eyes and then gives Wade a grade-A glare. "I was not talking about a human being, I was talking about the bush outside! The topiary! The juniper or cypress or - or - whatever kind of bush it is! It looks like..."

Steve's pointed hand, compass-north towards the back balcony from within this room, falls to slap to his thigh. His glare flattens. "It looks likely precisely what everyone thinks it looks like. Next time, maybe think about something less...phallic?" he asks this with dignity despite color still high on his cheeks.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade remains where he is, relaxed on the ball, though he 'oozes' down a little, which does make his groin the highest point. And the yoga pants might make it hard to ignore. But it isn't like there's something naughty going on. Just tight pants. Of a magenta color.

"OH. The little bush-trimmer Wall-E went crazy. It looked like a lopsided zombie. I fixed it. I'm not going to charge, though, because honestly I'm a novice. My first topiary. I wanted a dolphin but there just wasn't enough foliage," Deadpool complains. "The bottom was the tail," he describes with an overly artistic flow of left hand as if describing some other work of art. "But yes, it's a dick. That happens a lot with me. Just end up with a dick or asshole. Or both."

Captain America has posed:
Steve just stares. It's a sight, the Merc with the Mouth, on his exercise ball and those pants and in the end, the Captain rubs a hand down his mouth and nods to himself. "Okay, Wade. I'm sorry to hear that those are the usual outcomes. Next time you want to trim the hedges around here, check with me first, okay?" he entreats of the Merc.

Stooping, he collects up the small duffel bag and walks over to a bench tucked between sparring matt and exercise equipment to set the bag down upon it. Out comes a pair of toning balls having to weigh far more than standard human grade. Steve's arms flex upon lifting them and he lofts one up and down to catch it with some effort. "Good," he sighs to himself. Then, taking up a stance on the mat nearby, he begins to work at extensions in different stances. It's a subtle and effective way to work major muscle groups in the end.

Deadpool has posed:
"What are you even talking about? I didn't start the fire," Wade says, pausing to hum a little Billy Joel, surprised, and mildly insulted. "Spider-Woman fired her special zap-zap gun and the little robot trimmer-bot lost its mind and made a mess of the landscaping," he reports.

"You make it sound like I just decided to change up your garden aesthetic," he grins, and then with a flex of back and legs, is up on his feet. He pauses with his phone, finishing out the app he was in: but standing, now, Steve can read 'DEADPOOL' across the ass of the yoga pants, instead of the word 'juicy' as may have been expected.

"Wanna spar? We could spar," Wade invites, flinging his phone sideways at the striped gym bag.

Captain America has posed:
A controlled reach forwards over a lunged leg has Steve's focus on balance as well as core strength. The ambient light of the gym winks off the silvery toning balls in his hands. He glances over at Wade, not breathing hard yet, and seems to come back from a momentary distancing from reality around himself.

"You wanna spar? Sure, why not. Lay down the guidelines. First to tap out? First on the ground loses? Three shots, you're out?" For all the questions are delivered in bland interest, there won't be missing a small gleam of interest. Sparring does get the heart rate up, after all.

Deadpool has posed:
"Unarmed. Just for you. Until I want a blade, then, well," Wade teases. "Sure, first to tap out, go from there!" Wade pats down his yoga pants, as if making sure he didn't have anything on him: but no real need. He doesn't.

He picks up his Ariel towel and brings it over to the sparring area, and with a slow showmanship, shakes his hands out for no reason, and then fiddles with the drawstrings in his hoodie. One side long, one side short. Long, short. Wade is relaxed, and all smiles - something often disturbing on his marred, cancerous features.

Captain America has posed:
"Would prefer it if we called no blades," Steve comments as he straightens into a relaxed stance with the toning balls. He sets them aside on the bench -- they're heavy enough that they stay where placed rather than rolling away like miscreant exercise tools -- and he too meanders over towards the section squared out for sparring in particular. The matting on the floor is thicker here, able to withstand more forceful falls, and Steve takes up a place nearing its center after kicking off both sneakers and peeling away socks.

"Alright, Wade. Let's go." By the lift of his chin, Steve's not too concerned of what could come of this...yet. By no means has he forgotten the chaotic attempt at piggybacking those weeks back.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade prowls to one side, bouncing into a weird imitation of what a movie boxer might look like as they got ready to spar. He switches out of that and into a delicately balanced Crane stance, one leg pulled up, the heel tucked backwards under the thigh. "Oh, shoeses," Wade says, suddenly on his butt in the sparring ring, and peeling the shoes off. He balls up the socks and throws those aside too.

Wade bounces on the mat once. "Nice cushion," he observes, patting both hands on either side of his butt. He then gestures. From the seated position on the floor, with both hands. A 'come on' motion. With a little half-smile.

Captain America has posed:
Steve takes up a balanced stance on the mat as he watches Wade get set. His own initial readied state is markedly influenced by a bare-knuckle boxing history, though the angle of his planted feet has notes of Eastern martial arts. It might turn out to be a mixed martial arts approach long-term. However, he blinks to see the Merc suddenly seated. The devesting of shoes is enough to entice a short, amused laugh from him before he brings his hands up again at the height of his pecs.

The summoning gesture earns Wade a suspicious squint. "Alright," the Captain replies on a sigh and then seems to shed his martial air like a second skin. He walks over loose-limbed and even offers out a hand.

Beware the gleam in his eye.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade snares the hand evenly, with a comraderie in the clasp of hand, pulling his chest in directly towards the combined hold. But the movement changes very abruptly, as Wade props his wrist backwards a little and turns his momentum in a spinning little dance move. He brings himself sweeping in a twirl into Steve's space, as if he had spun into Steve's arms: a deliberately terrible move: it puts him in a position to be crushed, it puts his back to his opponent's chest--- "Hiiiii Steve," purrs the merc as he spins in towards the other man.

It's probably surprising, weird, and cuddly.

Deadpool.

"Boop," Deadpool says aloud, and then drives his head backwards, skull towards face, and follows with dropping towards a squat as an immediate secondary adjustment.

Captain America has posed:
Expecting the hand grab and perhaps a throw, Steve plants himself. Unfortunately, the backwards counter-motion doesn't do anything so much as aid Wade in his attempt to shoulder-shimmy against his chest. Eyes gone wide, the Captain's immediate response is a pause of disbelief -- who throws themselves //into// someone's personal space like that?!

He'll learn.

Steve's got a hard skull, but the backwards headbutt is a firm one. Stumbling back a step, he's blinking hard as his eyes water and his lip throbs in time with his heart. Given it's still one-half of a demented dance party, the Captain takes advantage of this. A grit of his teeth and he attempts to uncoil Wade from his crouched state in order to throw him from his hip across the mat.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade went low after the headbutt. And Steve moved and uncoiled him, because his wrist wasn't released: Wade had expected his arm to be dropped: normally people do that when you bash them in the face, really. So that means the angle is all weird. Wade's leg collides with Steve's knee-not in pain, but harmlessly, just sort of a tangle. Wade stumbles, not flung, but does go hands-down towards the mat, and does a sumersault that gets him no real distance. He snares one of the shoes and tosses it at Steve, while 'righting' himself with a twisting motion on the mat, using his legs more than his arms. "Who throws a SHOE, honestly," Wade 'quotes' teasingly, hooking a leg back and across to snare at Steve's ankle.

Captain America has posed:
The bouncing of limbs is solid and he stumbles as well to one side. Still, as quick as he can manage, the Captain quick-steps back upright. Spinning in place, Steve sees the shoe coming and catches it in one hand. It's hucked //back// at Wade with sufficient force, given the Merc's on the mat still.

"Who does that?" he agrees with a sharp grin. The swishing slide of leg across the mat is seen and he lifts his own foot, only to plant it again as he stoops to see if he can catch the offending ankle.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade catches the shoe in both hands like a trophy. He holds it up!

and then just tosses it over his shoulder. His ankle is easy to catch, too. However, he's doing something that's actually insane: he stands up, despite his leg being in Steve's possession. Steve does absolutely have Wade's leg.

Wade pulls backwards and lunges in, entirely not caring that his ankle could be twisted or he could be spun. Because sometimes just the lunge is worth it, and landing on an ankle that his foe twists sideways? That's temporary, even if it breaks. More fun to lunge in with a massive punch! Whee!

"WHEE. I do that! Me!"

Captain America has posed:
"God, Wade, what the -- !!!" The words leave Steve's mouth as he realizes that the Merc is coming in with a blurring fist that will leave one hell of a mark if it makes contact. The angle of the Merc's knee and ankle apparently count for nothing! The blond dances backwards as he reaches out to grab at the incoming punch and see if he can redirect it while capturing the offending wrist attached to it.

It looks like it's going to be an attempt at another throw of the Merc away from his target, but the Captain has made the mistake of keeping Wade close to him, and with the spidermonkey-like history, this might not go well.

Deadpool has posed:
In comes the spider-monkey! Wade's sudden punch is redirected across, and Wade hums softly while entirely allowing his momentum to flow through it, into a little spin again, shoulder coming towards his opponent's chest. He slides into (out?) of the grip by overextending, pushing his bicep into Steve's grab instead of the wrist, and comes in across for another close-up experience.

Steve might see it coming, this time, and be ready - except that Wade is just being a big faker. His free hand came up to his own face, for him to kiss it, as if for luck. He brings that hand up and across in flippant backhand, but he stops very short, and instead attempts a little pat-pat at Steve's cheek. Smoochie smoochie. He could have brought that towards the neck: he chose not to.

Wade's having a good time, and isn't going for vicious strikes. It is his 'safest' mode, really: the 'safety' is currently on the Deadpool gun, he isn't actively trying to really harm Steve.

Captain America has posed:
The whuft of air leaving Steve's chest means the Merc's incoming shoulder wasn't to be avoided. He stumbles back a few steps, now really rather entangled with still trying to hold onto the captured ankle and having a far less sturdy hold on the man's bicep. The Captain wince-blinks at the patpat on the cheek. They pink again in pique and then it appears to become less sparring and more like Steve attempting to extricate himself from the spider-monkey extraordinaire.

"Get...really!" At least it's not 'get off' this time -- the Captain's learned this, at least. The grunted words escape him as he tries, yet again, to fling Wade away and across the mat.

Deadpool has posed:
"The reals are gotten," Wade assures Steve, without fighting him about the hurling motion-instead, Wade chooses to take it with grace and manage his acrobatic flight as the super-soldier sends him flying. "You're strong, yow; my poor little wrist," Wade observes in a tone that is a mix of being impressed, and being impressed with a flirtatious 'edge'. He rolls to his feet where he landed, doing a fun scissor-kick on his back to twist and leap to his feet. He rolls one wrist with a little sound: there was some dislocation there, from the terrible choices on Wade's part with leaping up while being pulled around. Healing factor made instant work of it, though, and the kamikaze style can continue.

"Come on, eye of the tiger," Wade encourages, suddenly coming back with a single kick that then with a series of eerily focused jabs: a swift combination. "Put some of that frustration into it. Go go pent up energy. You can't hurt me. I mean. Not in a lasting way. Sometimes Logan stabs me in the lungs to shut me up. In a loving way. But you did say no stabbing."

Captain America has posed:
"Eye of the tiger?" Steve takes the kick to outside of his arm with a grunt of focus -- wow, that had some pepper -- but not the next few jabs. Dead-arm doesn't help his fate. "That rings a -- "

Air leaves him as the punches land in a flurry around his torso. One to the floating rib, one to the collarbone to leave that shoulder zinging, another to the opposite pectoral, and then POP: right in the mouth. With a lip already swollen, it garners the expected result: his own bell gets rung.

Steve shakes his head like a bulldog shooing away a fly and then visibly licks at the split lip. His brows knit.

"'m not gonna stab you," he mutters as he comes in swinging in turn, checking his strength far less than before.

Deadpool has posed:
"Maybe you should consider it. I'll allow some stabbing. And I do mean that in a direct way, not JUST a sexually charged manner-" Wade explains, pressing his advantage now that his opponent seems to be throwing a lot more weight forward. Wade dances in temptingly, and then slams his shoulder, HARD, into the incoming punch, with a grit of teeth. There's a horrible sound of the socket.

And an accompanying pull of one heel in around Steve's leg, to attempt to send both of them downwards.

"I could have dodged, but my dice are fucking great, so I get to do what I want," Wade announces, twisting to try to entangle his friend on the mat, and get the BROKEN arm in for a sudden choke-hold, using the other arm to direct the dislocated one up and in. The sounds of grinded bone are sort of horrible, particularly at close range.

Captain America has posed:
Despite being inured to the sound of breaking limbs and joints, Steve dances back rather than pressing his advantage. Most opponents tend to stop when their shoulder nearly disintegrates into their socket. Most. Apparently not this one. Heavier weighting on his retreat means they go down in a tangle of limbs and --

The chokehold is unexpected because limbs just aren't supposed to bend like that?! Steve glucks against the sudden lock against his throat and then audibly growls. It's a deeply resonant sound in his broad chest. "That arm should hurt, Wade," he grits out through the chokehold before he gets up onto his feet again. A step forwards, with the Merc clinging about his neck, and then an arcing throw of his own body backwards in an attempt to smush the man between the Captain and the mat.

Deadpool has posed:
"It does, a hell of a lot," Wade answers, honestly. "Sometimes with pain, you know you're ALIVE. You feel the vibration of life and reality and the flow of time when it suddenly slows down to only a crawl of the explosion of nerves that make an instant of pain somehow last forever, at least until your memory releases you from the agony of HUFFFF."

HUFF being the sound made when dropped backwards and lacking the air in lungs to continue to talk about things. The grip loosens a little, though it's due mainly to being jarred, and his shoulder went back into socket. He physically couldn't do the same angle while his arm is actively healing. Damn that healing factor!

"I have a shoe in my spleen," Deadpool laments breathlessly once he has some air. He was dropped on the shoe, after all. As if THAT is the real problem. "Gonna tap out?" he asks in a gasp, trying to wrap his legs around his opponent's lower dorito.

Captain America has posed:
"Could've put your shoes on the side of the mat instead of throwing them," grits out the Captain, now attempting to get free of the grapple. His weight should have been the advantage, but unfortunately, his snack-shaped body is not in his favor. Now he's got a spider-monkey in truth attached to his back, even if aforementioned Merc is sandwiched between his spine and a structurally-hampered shoe.

"'nd no, I'm not gonna tap out, I'm still breathing," he growls before attempting to throw back an elbow straight into Wade's solar plexus. The shoe is not spared by any attempt on his part to roll. Poor shoe!

Deadpool has posed:
"If the plan is to slowly bore me .... that might actually work," Wade comments. Wade is slammed with an elbow, though it doesn't hit exactly where it needed to for maximum damage, due to the squirrellyness of the mercenary. And Wade's really good at taking damage. "Ouchie," Wade complains, but doesn't actually deviate.

He does, distractedly, move his other hand to start to fix Steve's hair. It's all messed up during the strangulation process. There's a sound of him licking his palm and then trying to flatten part of it a little. Petttt pet. "I miss having hair," Wade shares in a sad tone, while he shifts his shoulder and presses firmly to ease Steve towards either blackness or a tapout. "I used to be blonde, can you imagine?"

Captain America has posed:
The first slide of Wade's hand across his skull is just plain weird, but ignored. Steve's busy trying to insert his own hand between his neck and the increased pressure of the now socketed arm about his neck. It will become very apparent when the Captain realizes his hair is being fixed with saliva because he starts writhing around, rather irritated for once. It's probably like trying to handle an oversized toddler.

"WADE WILSON!" His words are hoarse and thin and aggravated. "STOP THA -- ACK -- " Even as stars sparkle in the corner of his eyes, Steve tries to scramble to his feet. Upon stumbling upright, he works his hand around the bicep of the arm about his neck and the other scruffs Wade at the nape. Then, there it is: an attempt at an over-the-shoulder throw to send the Merc flying across the room towards the glass wall.

Deadpool has posed:
Thrown at high force by Captain America means that the mercenary's body will impact the wall, and impact it HARD. He does automatically draw in his limbs a little with a rotation to slam into it with his back, instead of a truly weird angle. In a explosion of breaking glass, Wade's back impacts, and then he drops down in a shower of sharp shards, landing face-down on the floor, face and head covered with his hands some as sharp pieces cover him, pelting like sharp hail all over the floor and the body of the fighter. He stays down during the deluge.

"Not my faaaault," Wade calls over the sound of the breaking.

Captain America has posed:
Steve coughs hard a few times and it's loud enough to be heard over the end of the raining of glass. He clears his throat and looks up, massaging at his throat. Ire smoothes away to resigned acceptance. His tongue licks again at the busted lip to still taste metal. At least it's not bleeding down his face!

"...dammit," the Captain mutters as he walks over, stepping carefully around shards of reflective mirror. "Sorry, Wade, I should've been paying more attention." He offers out a helping hand to the man with a grimace. "It'll come out of my back pocket, don't worry, nobody's gonna bill you or anything."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade draws his arms in, ribbons of blood appearing on the ground amid the glass shrapnel from the cuts now on his hands. He waggles the hand away, "No sense both of us with glass in our palms." Similarly, as he brings his feet in under him, grass snaps and crackles, and blood oozes from Wade's left heel, and front right toes, from standing in the glass. He carefully stands and starts to pick glass out of his hoodie - and his palms. While standing in it.

"I feel like a dangerous piñata," Wade comments, shaking bits out of his hood and wriggling as they go down his neck. "I wish I could say this was the first time, but I've had glass down my shirt more than once. Should've worn my suit!"

Captain America has posed:
The grimace increases in intensity. "I am //really// sorry, Wade, this was not my intent," Steve says as he scans the room. Carefully backing away, he then grabs up both the Little Mermaid towel and one from the pyramid in rolls of white. Oh well, this one will have to either be bleached to death or tossed. Both are tossed in Wade's direction to be used as necessary.

"Do you want another two for your feet? So you have some padding from the glass? Or your shoes?" the Captain asks as he slips on his own sneakers sans socks, all the better to avoid glass pricking at his own bare feet.

Deadpool has posed:
"Huh? What? It's fine," Wade says, surprised, pausing to stop, and look at Steve with a curious quality. He strolls out of the glass with bloody footprints, still shaking his hoodie, and also pulling at his pants, to get the glass to fall out of them. He does stop to look down at a foot and pull a chunk out, tossing it aside with some indifference. He approaches Steve and does a harmless punch at his arm. There's a strange emotion on it, like Wade was oddly touched.

"By the time you're done trying to figure out how to bandage my feet I'll be better," Wade states. "We could do stabbing now?" Wade adds, eyes moving a bit overly thoughtfully to a large mirror shank-like piece not a dozen paces away. He winks, though. "I'm teasing. Or not, if you want. I mean. Yeah, teasing."

Captain America has posed:
Steve pauses over by the tower of white towels, one held in his hand and ready to be thrown. He still hasn't realized that the left shoulder-strap of his muscle shirt is dramatically overstretched to hang down around mid-bicep. He watches Wade pull a piece of glass from the pad of his foot with an open-mouthed display of admiration and blows a sigh. The towel in his hand is relegated to patting at the back of his neck before being slung around it.

"Stabbing isn't my modus operendi," the Captain quips quietly as he gives the large shards of glass a little glower. "Forgot how quickly you'd recover. Still, I apologize if it stung. I gotta check myself. You're the second person I've thrown into a wall 'cause I wasn't paying attention. Well, no, Barnes went //through// the wall," he mutters with a rub at his temple.

Deadpool has posed:
"Stabbing and pew pew are mine. And punch and kick and grenade and 'other'. I didn't get to go THROUGH the wall? I feel like I didn't get my money's worth, Stevie," Wade says. And then Wade is suddenly jogging over to pick up that metal shard. He does leave bloody footprints, of course: it's hard to tell if that's just the blood from the cuts, or if he did heal (or didn't), since it's the bottoms of his feet. His hands are gritty with a mix of the glass and blood.

"What do I need to do to earn that?" Wade asks. He examines the glass shard; it is about eighteen inches, pretty cruel looking. He then waggles a hand with the shard in it in a 'look here' way, while approaching swiftly.

He draws his other hand across and pierces entirely through the palm with the glass. And then draws it out again, a clean move. He shows the injury, as blood streams down his forearm to the elbow, soaking into the hoodie. But he squeezes and moves the hand. "See? I -" There's not much to see, it's just bloody. "Wait, well, here." He wipes the hand on his hoodie's chest, and then shows it. It's not entirely healed yet, but it's basically closed, with that style of clean wound. "I'm always fine. I mean, I feel it, but. I'm the buddy that can't ever die, yay. Cool? Cool. Logan shows how he loves me with stabs. Not that you should. I also accept smoochies."

He thumbs up with the bloody hand and a strangely tight little smile on his eerie, pustule-destroyed lips, and then loosely tosses the glass shard towards the pile of other similar bits, where it shatters.

Captain America has posed:
Floating after Wade as he walks over to pick up the large piece of mirror is Steve's reply of, "No, Wade, I didn't mean to throw Barnes through the wall, that's my point." He eyes the shard picked up with appropriate levels of concern and adds more firmly, "You don't get thrown through the wall unless you're really asking for it."

Still, he's a captive audience in how he winces when he sees the glass shard put to use. The white towel is offered out again in an awkward half-extension of arm before he does see that the wound caused is now healing ultra-rapidly. It makes the Captain's eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline.

"'m...//still// not gonna stab you, Wade, or give you smoochies. Hugs are okay, but after you wipe yourself down." Now the towel is offered with a firm nod.

Deadpool has posed:
"I AM probably sweaty!" Wade agrees, upbeat. He accepts the towel, and uses it to dab-dab at his face and neck, while making big red handprints on it. He behaves, of course, as if they aren't there.

"You really should invest in red or black towels. I mean. Avenger colors. We match. It's meant to be."

Totally meant to be.

Wade seems to have forgotten, at least for the moment, about sparring. Which could be good or bad. "Let's hit the showers. I brought soap. It smells like lilac. In theory. I haven't used it yet. Obviously. Or I'd have smelled of lilac," Wade clarifies.

"Just don't pull my limbs off or cut me in half, that's sort of annoying to me. Still doesn't mean we can't be friends." Wade has a low bar of friendship.

Captain America has posed:
"I'll let Tony know about the suggestion. I think the towels are white so we can tell when they're dirty," the Captain explains drily, as if aware this is a known fact. He takes up another one from the pile and looks from Wade to his small black duffel and back.

"Suuuurrre, Wade, let's...go hit the showers. Let me get one of the bots working on cleaning up the glass first so no one walks into it." Holding up a preemptive finger, Steve steps out into the hallway and asks JARVIS to send down a handful of the local housekeeper bots. Roombas on 'roids, the joke remains. Once he can hear the distant whir of approaching mechanics, Steve steps back into the gym room.

"All of my stuff's already in there, so...didn't bring any lilac soap," he informs the Merc as they travel in that direction. "I'm not doing to take off any of your limbs, don't worry, or cut you in half. Too messy. Already made enough mess today," he says with a wave of his hand towards the glass pile.

Oh well. Here come the Roombas on 'roids!

Deadpool has posed:
"I have enough to share," Wade says kindly, attempting to take Steve's arm. While the Avenger was away, he was collecting his stuff. Shoes, and so on. The arm was reached for --- He then, perhaps, thinks better of it, and winks. "Personal space," Wade says, aloud. He adds a thumbs up. And trots towards the showers.

Baby steps, perhaps, but Wade will get there.

Maybe.