7329/Fitting Fit for a Captain

Fitting Fit for a Captain
Date of Scene:	26 April 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Janet and Steve doing their thing. Warning: content may cause diabetes.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)

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Captain America has posed:
Who's come knock-knock-knockin' on Janet's door?

One Steve Rogers, dressed in laze-about clothing of a plain black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, white socks and a dimpled smile. "Hey you," says he once the door opens. "Got your text. Something about you needed to borrow a body for a fitting?" And boy howdy, does that shirt do some nice fitting on him. No normal t-shirt sits anything less than pec-presenting on the Captain. "What'd you have in mind?" he asks with a little tilt of his head, looking down at the fashionista.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's door is usually open a crack, but Steve's polite enough to knock anyway. Janet, of course, just walks into Steve's room whenever she feels like it. Call it a generational thing. She does open the door and smiles at Steve, but his words prompt a heavy, sultry sigh of appreciation and she leaaaaans against the edge of the door, bare arm sliding up overhead. She's in a sleeveless sundress of all things, all bright yellow and white. It sports a cute A-frame skirt and low scoop neck that're both a little on the flirty side. White leather wraps cork wedges to her bare feet, and her manicure and pedicure are the same shade of daisy yellow.

She doesn't respond for a few beats, staring at Steve's chest, and uplifts a finger before he can interrupt her train of thought.

"I had *something* in mind, but it just... utterly escapes me." Janet lays a finger on Steve's chest and drags a nail down his sloping pectoral. A heavy, happy sigh escapes her lips and she flashes a mischevious smile up at Steve before rolling out of his way. "C'mon in here, soldier, you're gonna be my first victim. Then you can bully Tony and T'challa into helping out too."

Captain America has posed:
Barely -- barely -- the Captain restrains the soft snort. He still dimples to one side and his eyes fall to the descending fingertip before flicking back to Janet's face. "Victim? You sound like a mad-woman," he comments lightly as he walks into her room. As always, it's airy and well-lit, decorated with modern art framed, and he meanders over towards the raised pedestal before the collection of tall mirrors.

Pausing by its base, he looks it over with hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and then glances back to Janet. "You know I'm not the best candidate to be bullying folks. I can talk a mean game of persuasion, though. This's about the calendar, right? For charity?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Well, mostly, yes," Janet admits. "I promise to donate a fair portion to everyone's charity of choice. Y'all can compete for 'most sex appeal' on the photoshoot and then the winner gets an extra bump to their charity. Some incentive for everyone to bring their A-game," she says, beaming at Steve. "Win win, and then my profits for next year will REALLY win. God I love capitalism," she mutters.

She pushes Steve towards the stand. "So I figure you're gonna want... what, Veterans of Foreign Wars? Something like that?" She starts draping blue cloth around Steve', a sleeveless jacket covered in white chalk. "Gotta think of those Veterans, Steve."

Captain America has posed:
It's like a terrier herding a Golden Retriever, how the whole process of chivvying the Captain onto the stand goes about. He moves because he should, not because Janet could do much more than bounce off of him. Once on the stand, he shrugs his broad shoulders, still wearing that small, easy-going smile of his.

"I was thinking of a group like that, yes. Haven't put my finger on which one just yet." Steve holds out his arms as she works around him, staying still without being impossible to move in case of need to check the lay of the cloth about his shoulders or along his sides. "I figure I'll smile for the camera and let the people throw in their votes. No big loss if I don't win for 'most sex appeal'. You already said a portion goes to the charity of our choice."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Sure, but ..." Janet stands on tiptoe behind Steve, the ruler tape dangling from fingers that are suddenly more interested in tickling Steve's abdomen. It's a stretch to get her chin up there, though, even in those four-inch wedges. "I could offer to match the winner's donations?" she suggests, brightly. "Whomever sells the most outfits, I mean. That's some extra incentive to sex it up for America a bit when we do the photoshoot."

She drops her weight back and circles around Steve, though not without giving his rear a passing swat. "For *you*, I could come up with some more incentive," she offers, and flutters her lashes up at him with a complete lack of self-censorship.

Captain America has posed:
Under the flickering of those fingers, his torso tenses and Steve lets out a quiet spit of restrained laughter. Oh god, not tickling! His entire body goes stock-still briefly in an effort not to react and accidentally tear seams not even set into fabric. The swat to the butt cheek garners her a narrow look before he sighs and shakes his head.

"If I'm wearing a suit, all I can do is stand there and look refined, Janet," he points out, literally, with a finger aimed at her. "Sure, I can try looking...I dunno, cheeky or something when I smile and what, fold my arms so it's tight across my shoulders?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh, it's more about the *way* you stand. Confident, aloof... a little playful or suggestive," Janet explains. She circles Steve, adjusting seams with a portable surger and a keen eye for measurements as she checks the drape and fit. "Military guys try to look like statues. No smiling, no waving, all y'know..." She stands in front of Steve, looking at him, then drops her chin into her neck and flexes her swinging shoulders way out to mimic a military goose walk. Badly. "Hurr, lookit me," she says, voice dropping to a grating alto.

"Just like... I don't know! Relax a bit. Smile. Flirt with people a little. Only a little," she admonishes him. "And only if she's hot. But not as hot as me," she cautions him, finger sternly upraising in his face.

Captain America has posed:
The imitation of the worst of the Army drill instructors is enough to make Steve bark out a laugh. He stops the worst of it from rolling outwards by covering his mouth briefly with a hand. It drops back to his waist again, mirrored by his other opposite him, and he eyebrows in fond amusement at Janet.

"I'm not gonna go about flirting with anyone. It causes jealousy and insecurity. Now, look." He lifts a palm at her. "I can do confident and aloof just fine. Playful, sure. Suggestive?" A shoulder lifts and falls. "Dunno about that one." He narrow those true-blue eyes at her briefly. "You mean something like..."

It takes him a few seconds to compose his face, but then he's giving her a smile like he's got a joke just waiting behind his teeth -- and it's a terrible one -- and everyone knows it -- but he's going to tell it anyways because he'll get laughter regardless.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet blinks slowly and drops her chin, looking up at Steve through the gap between her brows and the glasses she isn't wearing. The fashionista takes a half-step back, rolling a hip behind her and turning her leading foot and knee outwards. One hand rests on her hip behind her, then the other rolls once through the air, prompting Steve to go ahead with his joke.

But her *eyes* say 'Beware the Leopard'.

Captain America has posed:
In another handful of seconds, Steve realizes he's got to deliver. "Oh, um...right. So..." The vowel hangs as he looks off to one side, twirling a finger in a circle at nothing at the level of his waist. He snaps the fingers of that hand suddenly.

"You know, these days, I find television very educating. Somebody turns it on and I go into the other room and read a book," he delivers in a beautifully dry deadpan to the fashionista before grinning like a total fiend.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Jan just stares at Steve. One. Two. Five count. Unblinking, as if waiting for the punchline to arrive.

"Uh. Huh," she murmurs, thoughtfully. A slow nod, and without a word she starts circling Steve again, measuring with a tidy efficiency and a certain professional distance.

Not one sour word uttered. No snorts or eyerolls. Just the scathing heat of her withering silence.

Captain America has posed:
"...normally folks laugh at that one," the Captain offers up on a small sigh and thinning of his lips. He lifts his arms out to the sides again to allow her to continue working, his eyes resting in the middle distance.

"It's a line from Groucho Marx. He was a famous comedian back in the 1920s. 1930s too. He was known for his one-liners and movies. Wrote a book too, apparently. I still have to read it."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
A long silence behind Steve, then a hand rests on his spine. It's shaking slightly. A reassuring pat? A choked laugh indicates that she's shaking with suppressed glee, and when Steve turns she's got knuckles pressed to her red lips and is looking up at Steve with damp eyes, shoulders shaking violently as she tries to suppress a laugh.

"You're such a-HIC- dork!" she says. The hiccough interrupts her teasing and only makes her laugh harder, leaning her forehead against Steve and just shaking the giggles out of her system.

Captain America has posed:
"What...?" Turning in place after feeling the trembling of her palm against his back, Steve's expression of deep concern (someone was very worried about the possibility of a sudden deluge of tears) melts away into a resigned little shake of his head. The smile's slow to appear, but it does, accompanied by dimples.

"See? People laugh," he says, pleased with himself. Janet's gathered in against him in an enfolding of strong arms -- admittedly, she's a little squished, but not uncomfortably. "You think I'm funny, admit it. I mean, I think I'm funny."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet just keeps laughing, on the edge of giddy tears. At Steve's words her head does an erratic series of yes/no shakes that turns into a circle. She tightens it up into a nod, and when Steve looks down she furrows her brow in solidarity and sticks out her lower lip in a frown of support.

It lasts .5 seconds and she starts laughing again. "I know, and the fact you *think* you're funny is what makes you adorable," Janet assures Steve. She pops up on her toes to kiss him despite being pinned in place by his arms.

"Which is fine by me. Forget all those other people," she assures him.

She pushes away and reaches for a tissue to dab the corner of her eyes a few times. "Ahhh... you dork. Okay. The jacket's done, and much as I'd love to lie and tell you I forgot your measurements, the pants are ready." She reaches over and hands them to Steve, then touches his cheek once more, laughs again, and moves to her little bar service to get a drink.

Captain America has posed:
His eyes twinkling, Steve reassures her, "'m gonna forget all of them, don't worry." He releases her to collect up her tissue and fix the subtle mess of eyeliner, his stance relaxed. The juxtaposition of styles in suit jacket and sweatpants seem somehow at home on his frame. He takes the pants from her and hangs them over a broad forearm, watching her retreat.

"You've got a good memory, if that's the case." The compliment is easily delivered. His eyes fall to linger on her rear -- a good one of those too -- before flicking up as he catches himself. "The jacket's all done then?" Pinching its hem, he lift it to look at the seams and then up the length of his arm to his shoulder, eyeing its fit.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Well at first it was just a lot of idle fantasizing, and now I've just... gotten familiar with the real estate." Janet turns just in time to see Steve's eyes flicker, and her eyes narrow even as her lips quirk in a grin.

"It's not done by a long shot. I need to hem it, trim it, relieve the arms, take in the waist, massage the seams-- *tons* of work," Janet says. She finds a chair and kneels sideways on it, one arm resting loosely along the chairback. "You might not see the actual finished jacket for a while. I might even have to start over. But this way I've got measurements I can use to build off of."

Captain America has posed:
Steve nods thoughtfully as he looks up from observing the fit of the suit jacket on his upper half. It truly is not half-bad for elegant evening wear, if he must say so himself -- in his mind and not aloud.

"Well, happy to have been of assistance." Carefully, the Captain extricates himself from the jacket as to avoid popping delicate seams. He makes to fold it as to lay it atop the pants he was handed not long ago. "Gives me time to see what the others might think about being part of the calendar." Stepping down, he meanders over to set the clothing on a clear section of her drafting desk, making very certain that nothing will get on the fabric once placed.

"And I guess I'll have a nice suit to wear if the whole plan falls through," he adds with a grin towards Janet. "Might be nice to wear it to dinner someplace."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet gives Steve a look of stern disapproval. "If you take me to Outback again, I *will* leave you," she tells Steve, with a tone so bluntly uncompromising it sounds as theatrical as it's intended. "I'll even give you my reservation numbers if you want, that way you can schedule a table for me somewhere that doesn't serve birthday cake to an off-key rendition of 'Happy Happy Birthday'," she adds. Her chin lifts with an imperiousness that even Janet can barely pull off.

"But, I'll make you a deal," she offers, tone turning lyrically sweet. "If you agree to help me out, I'll let you preview some of the JVD fall line. Y'know." Her smile turns vulpine. "The eveningwear collection?"

Captain America has posed:
Still not immune to such suggestions, the Captain's cheeks rosy up as they tend to do. He rubs behind one ear as he laughs, closing his eyes for a second. A small shake of his head and he's composed himself enough that only the barest gravel remains in his voice.

"Never said I wouldn't help you out, so you realize you just roped yourself into that?" He continues before the point can be argued with, "But you show me what you want, I'm a willing audience. No Outback either, I learned my lesson with that one." Steve laughs despite himself, a warm chuckle. "Still...bet I could pay 'em enough to still bring you a cake and sing to you." An eyebrow lays out the wager.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh, wow," Janet deadpans. "You saw... right through my criminal plan to seduce you, there. You dastardly do-gooder, you," she adds, and a fist swings through the air with lame comic timing.

She squirms and resettles on the chair, hugging her knees loosely to her chest. Designer yellow pumps hang off to one side just over the edge of the seat. "Weirdly, almsot *everything* is in red for some reason." She shakes her head at Steve, eyes wide in feigned surprise. "Can you imagine that? Lacy little nothings and herringbone-backed silk, just this... endless sea of vermillion and sanguine. I have no idea at all how that happened."

Captain America has posed:
To the claim of ultimate Boy Scout title? Steve shrugs, his arms now folded as he leans against the drafting desk. Of course it accentuates his chest further beneath the black t-shirt. As the descriptions of the JVD fall line's eveningwear collection continues, his eartips begin to turn a shade to fit right into the spectrum of color proposed.

"I can't imagine," he attempts to reply back as innocently as he can manage. Still, there's that tension in his voice, subtle but present, like an undertow beneath still water. "Wonder if it has anything to do with the color being attractive to men?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Gosh, is it?" Janet looks astounded at that idea. Green eyes go wide with a naieve wonder. "Here I am, just a poor girl from New England making my way in a man's world. I had no idea *color* could affect how men see women!"

"Ooh!" She perks, sitting up on the chair. "Is water wet? I've always wondered." She slips off the chair and leans against Steve, looking up at him with an expression apparently devoid of deceptitude. "And is the Eiffel Tower in Paris? Gee whiz, I'm *so* glad you're here to help me understand this big, scary, confusing world! I'd jes be lost as all git out if it weren't for a han'some feller like y'all coming along and taking me under your biiiig strong arms!"

She slips a bit into her Southern Belle bit, bouncing up and down against Steve's chest as she leans against him.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain's eyes narrow as does his smile. "I know, you precocious little pint of fluff, what would you do without me? You'd be bippity-bopping around in the world and have no idea what to do with yourself!" Steve's baby-talk is on par. He even reaches out and pinches one of those lightly-blushed cheeks gently. "Y'know, if you hold up a postcard close enough to your face, it's like you're there at the Eiffel Tower!"

He can't keep it up and snorts despite himself; it breaks into a reel of chuckling. "But you have no idea about me, don't you?"

Oh yes, that's a thread left deliberately hanging.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Oooh, game on. Janet blinks at Steve's uncharacteristically witty rejoinder and his effortless banter. Her brows go up challengingly at him, too (and she does *not* blush when he touches her cheeks, the redness is wholly unrelated to anything happening.)

"I don't know if I'd say we've been *formally* introduced, Captain Rogers," she says. Her tone, frigid and polite, is utterly at odds with a smoulderingly green-eyed look. "But if there's some educating you think I need, I'm more than happy to oblige you." She drums fingernails on his shirt. "I could probably come up with a cute little school outfit and everything," she adds, and blinks up at him with an expression utterly devoid of repentance.

Captain America has posed:
Like a game of verbal Battleship, Janet scores a hit. The Captain gulps. Audibly. A few breathy laughs and all of the light-hearted, sharp-tongued crosstalk seems to evaporate like a dewdrop in hot morning sun.

"I, uh -- " He clears his throat and leans his palms back on the edge of the desk. "Well, Miss van Dyne, I meant more that you probably didn't know I was red-green color-blind before all this happened. Before the serum and all. So it means more than a little that you'd wear all the red, given it looked grey before." Embarrassed, earnest, he looks down at the Wasp.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Ding ding ding. Janet's many things, but entirely oblivious isn't one of them. She gives Steve an entirely smug, knowing smile, and carefully files that particular reaction away in her mental inventory.

"I did, yes. You told me," she reminds the flustered super-soldier. She eyes Steve, then leans up and kisses his jawline. "And yes, of course, you *know* why," she tells him, with a wry smile working across her lips. "I'd do anything to make you happy, and me getting to wear something you'll find sexy and irresistable isn't really a big ask," she says. Eyes dance warmly up at Steve. "You can totally brag to your boys that your girlfriend came up with a whole clothing line just for you though, if you want. And that's not even being hyperbolic."

Captain America has posed:
"Dunno that I'm going to go around bragging about it, but if they ask, I guess I can be oblique...?" The Captain gets that smile he's trying for on his lips again, finally, after some effort. He can still feel the heat lingering in his cheeks and rubs his face on his shoulder once as if it might remove the lingering pink. "Still. Red's a good color choice for it all. Very good one." He shifts against the desk, still curling his palms around the desk's edge.

"Could...wear something red the next time we go out to dinner? A dress, maybe?" The hazarding comes with a failure to hide a little hopeful dimple growing at one end of his lips. "I'll wear a red tie, bowtie or straight. We can match?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Hmm. I'll think about it," Janet says, with a suggestive smile.

She looks Steve up and down, then tilts her head to the door. Fingers gently but expertly guide him towards it. "This is the part where I'd flounce off so you get to watch me leave, but you're in my room," she tells him, pointedly. His hip's given a nudge and playful pinch. "I need to get this fitting done and then tidy up before I call it a day."

She examines Steve, head tilting coquettishly to the side as she steers him through the door. "But why don't you come back later, around eight? I'm sure I can find something to... slip into."

She purses her lips and blows him a little kiss-- and then the door swings shut and *clicks*, leaving a flustered, red-faced Steve on the wrong side of it!