7542/Just kiss her! (Or me

Just kiss her! (Or me
Date of Scene:	19 May 2019
Location:	Steve's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Wade helps Steve with his girl troubles.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Deadpool

---

Captain America has posed:
The pencil scratches on the notepad. It's one of SHIELD's ilk, something handed out to new recruits and interns to keep on them in case of need. Steve's currently frowning thoughtfully down at it as if it contained the secrets of the universe and all he needs to do is input the correct number for the function to completely fall into perfected solution.

"No..." he grumbles and erases heavily at the notebook set upon his work desk in his bedroom at the Avenger's mansion. Blowing away the crumblets with a careful breath long-practiced over sketches as not to leave spittle, he makes a soft sound and goes back to writing again. He's in a plain grey t-shirt and jeans this evening, white socks pristine but for the hole in one heel.

Deadpool has posed:
    KNOCK KNOCK.

    Which is then followed by the Shave-and-a-hair-cut singsong style rap-rap at the door (bum bum ba-BUM-bum ... bum bum!) A glance through a peephole will reveal absolutely nobody at first, and then will catch the form of somebody or other in a navy hoodie that's pulled up, and ratty black jeans, pacing along the far hallway, swinging a white plastic bag with some box-like takeout food shapes in it like a pendulum.

    Since it's a human sized male adult person with food without major identifying markers, it's probably hard to exactly know who it is on just a glance, though he has the heavy athletic build most of the heroes do. Not that the identity will be confusing for long, because it isn't like Wade generally keeps his mouth shut /at all/.

Captain America has posed:
Steve looks up first at the wall before him, with its shelving of memarobilia, and then turns in his chair. The seat spins slowly as he does so, giving the door a vaguely perplexed look.

"Just a sec," he calls out, announcing himself as present. The notebook is closed and set off to one side on the desk, the pencil placed on the diagonal across it, and he gets to his feet. A few long strides later and he's opening the door -- his trust in the mansion's AI and its security protocol is high, apparently.

He looks at the somebody-or-other with a quirk of brow. "Can I...help you?" he asks cautiously, his mind rapidly putting together markers of the person's build, frame, and carriage. Something's familiar, at least!

Deadpool has posed:
"Avon callinnnnng," Wade announces at top volume, cheerfully. He turns directly towards the door. It's Wade, with zero costume items. It makes his horrific complexion particularly jarring, in the otherwise normal clothes. There's a reason the hood was up, but there's no effort made to disguise his face.

"I also considered offering to talk to you in the name of the Lord and savior, but buying me as an Avon salesman seemed more credible than a Jehova's Witness," chatters the mercenary, friendly. He did make a funny, but there isn't a manic quality to it. There's a steady quality to the mercenary's ability to hold eye contact, as well.

"Are you a fan of fish tacos? Because /that/ is what I have," Wade continues, using his other hand to pat the bottom of the plastic bag. "I forgot the drinks on the top of the taxi outside, sadly."

Captain America has posed:
Steve blinks despite himself, more because Wade's brightly present than for the scarring on his face. He opens the door more and can't help the slight curl at one side of his mouth. The Merc with the Mouth is indeed running his and it's...a welcome normalcy.

"I do like fish tacos, as a matter of fact. Beers are in the fridge." Turning to walk over to the small fridge tucked to one side, Steve adds over his shoulders, "Close the door behind you once you're in. Company's good, but I'm not looking to host a sleepover tonight." He ducks to reach into it and pulls out two fairly standard red ales before walking over to the small table meant for breakfast or spreading paperwork about.

Deadpool has posed:
    "I wish beer did something. I've tried even bathing in it. Takes like, cocaine, and that won't last," Wade says with a sad dismay. "I take it back: sometimes it works. But never when you really want it to." He comes in smoothly, dropping a heel back to neatly knock the door shut with the exact amount of force required. Wade can be accurate with little details like that when it matters.

    "I didn't propose a sleepover. I actually suspect that you snore, and I require beauty sleep like WHOA tonight," Wade says, approaching to put his bag down. He doesn't open it normally, he rips down the side casually, and then sets the smaller containers out, trying to puzzle at the chicken-scratch writing on them to decide which is which. He flips his hood off with his other hand, unzipping the front of the hoodie, just since he's inside and it was too warm to leave all closed up.

Captain America has posed:
Seated across from Wade, the Captain smirks and snorts to himself. He pushes a beer across the way so it stops just before the Merc's placement and takes a deep drag of his own, a several solid gulps.

"This's the good stuff, taste-wise," the Captain opines as he sets it down again. He waits to see which container ends up offered towards him. "And I can confirm that I snore. Commandos used to complain it kept them awake." It's a personal detail offered in friendship, accompanied by a small smile. "Don't think I snore //that// loud."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade lifts where his eyebrows would be and leans over to pick up the offered beer, opening it and fearlessly taking a slightly excessive single gulp. He makes an interested face, turns it in his hand by slightly tossing it to turn it to look at the label, and gives an approving nod. "You and Logan should have a beer-off. Whoever finds the best tasting beer wins full bragging rights and a kiss. Maybe with tongue."

Wade takes another drink from it, then sets it down and passes over one of the containers. As if it mattered which was which - Wade doesn't remember what he ordered. He sits down, finally, too. "I am variable. I have been stabbed in the lung for snoring. But mostly I'm an angelic cherub." A smile, a flash of white in his uncomfortable face, is reasonably pleasant. "I think those are a mix of shimp and fish. But it's really anyone's guess at this point."

It isn't that; Wade seems to have that in front of him. "oooooor I have that."

Captain America has posed:
Wade almost gets the spit-take -- almost. Steve does cough a little in the back of his throat at the premise and resulting wins potentially eked from the beer-off, but manages to swallow his mouthful nonetheless. He doesn't have an immediate response to that beyond a little shake of his head and wry smile. Always with tongue.

Opening the container before him, the soldier peers down into the mysterious conglomeration that is taco and fish -- seafood -- sea-being.

"Hell of a reason for stabbing someone in the lung." His tone is dubious and disapproving. Snoring happens, man. "I think this one's all fish," he adds and reaches in to gather the food up. "Smells great, Wade, thanks." The first bite ends with an openly-pleased expression on his face. "Forgot to eat dinner." Steve does speak around the food, proof of how much he's enjoying it.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade grins more as he senses the spit-take coming on, but Steve manages to hold off. Maybe next time. He didn't even deliberately try for it, but he does notice the reaction. Most of the time Wade doesn't really register how people react to half of what he says.

"The napkins were on the roof of the taxi too, I'd bet," Wade decides, rolling up his sleeves to mid arm and just digging in anyway with bare hands. "My suits are all being cleaned or in repair. You're kind to not ask about why I'm destroying your retinas right now, but that's why. There's a story, too. I mean. There's always a story, but REALLY a story," Wade says, with a thumbs-up in answer to the thank-yous. Wade sort of dodges it, in a weird way that speaks of some kind of humility about it.

Captain America has posed:
Working through his mouthful, Steve glances around his bedroom. The fish taco returns to its container briefly. He sucks some of the fish taco's dressing from his fingertips and rises to his feet. "Lemme get a washcloth or two. They'll stand in for napkins. I can launder 'em with the rest of the stuff later this week." It's a quick errand to the linen closet inside the master bathroom and back, and he throws one in a lazy discus-spin at Wade for him to catch.

"I got time for a story, if you wanna share." The offer is couched nonchalantly, but by the faint look of wishfulness in Steve's eyes, it'd be far more interesting than what's tripping around in his brain on dismaying repeat.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade grabs the towel/napkin-standin from the air with easy casualness and drapes it over his other arm as if he were a waitor. He also seems to have adjusted his seating position to sit cross-legged in the chair. Because Wade.

"Yeah, I basically cornered you into HAVING to ask me, didn't I?" Yep, that happened, onward with story.

"So, let's SEE. I recently fought a mutant pus monster that used to be a rat; I suspect clone experiment. I was supposed to catch it. Someone electrocuted it while I was holding onto it, and it exploded. I'm still finding bits of it in awkward orifaces, and I think Spider-Man is going to hold the nightmare fuel of the whole situation against me."

Captain America has posed:
Steve's washcloth goes beside his container of fish taco and he returns to eating it with a quick pleasure. Tonight's apparently one where he neatly shoves it in his face, chewing as fast as he can because he's not paying attention to long-ingrained habits. It does taste so good. He looks up from it, leaned over the table as he is, towards Wade and frowns at the start of the tale.

By the end of it, he's looking bemused and admittedly a smidge nonplussed. "I can imagine it was a sight. And a mess." He shoves the rest of the fish taco in his mouth and talks around it once it's half-down. "Blood's hard to get out."

Deadpool has posed:
"It wasn't blood. It was like ... green snot," Wade says, fishing out his phone from one of the front pockets of the hoodie. He swipes quickly with his thumb. "Fuck, so much easier without gloves on," he mutters. And then pauses, taps his mouth, as if grabbing a key and throwing the key away. He swore, he noticed. Not going to derail his story by going down a rabbit hole of talking about it, though.

"See," he says, and offers the phone over to show. It is a picture of a huge mass of splatted green disgustingness in a big metal dumpster, followed by a selfie of a drenched Deadpool, as if he'd popped a slime balloon over his head. "Blood, that's whatever. This was superglue."

Captain America has posed:
Steve does eyebrow at the word, but given there's no tangent to follow, he too lets sleeping curses lie. He sits upright from leaning back heavily in his chair to squint at the phone's screen. A pull of his mouth to one side is followed by a shake of his head.

"Drycleaners'll have a hell of a time with it then. You've got an extra suit stashed somewhere?" As he's rested his elbows on the table, he then glances down at the bag which brought the delicious fish tacos in along with the Merc. Is there another one stashed away in there? His stomach would certainly enjoy it if so. "You want another beer?"

Deadpool has posed:
"I have a collection of suits and pieces of suits. I get a lot of things like dismemberment," Wade says casually, as if describing that he's prone to spilling spagetti sauce on his shirts.

"So sometimes I can frankenstein them. I'm pretty good at it now, but I'm not gonna take work away from kids overseas in sweat shops making super suit pieces either. What kind of horrible person would I be." Wade lifts a hand and waggles the fingers towards himself, indicating a 'give me' in answer to the beer offer. He finishes the open, original one off immediately after beckoning.

"So do you want me to continue to do this, or do you wanna share your problems?" Wade asks, with an easy, relaxed tone.

Captain America has posed:
Steve nods companionably as he fishes out another taco from the split-open bag. Bringing the container over to himself, he then rises to go get another beer for each of them. This time, these are darker brews, more a hybrid of a stout and a porter, and he hands it off to Wade before sitting down.

The sudden lucidity of the Merc's question has him slowing and then stopping entirely in beginning to enjoy the next serving of food. His face scrunches in a frustrated frown at himself, but the expression is directed at the container in which he places the soggy deliciousness. He wipes his hand on his washcloth and throws it to the table, not looking at Wade still.

"That transparent, 'm I?" he mutters before spanning his eyes with his hand and rubbing at closed eyelids.

Deadpool has posed:
"Just got a general gist of your storyline lately," Wade jokes, with a semi-obvious salute to the broken fourth wall. He pauses, and amends, "Let me rephrase in a way that makes sense to you. ....You're transparent," Wade decides, with a softened laugh into his own taco that he was inhaling.

He coughs, stops inhaling it, and eats it more properly.

"But I am fully capable of filling this room with chat about snot monsters. I just didn't want you to think I didn't /care/. I do. But if the problems get to be too much, we can do a hug that's gonna blow your mind in how much it comforts you, and maybe lasts just a little too long to really stay comfortable."

Captain America has posed:
Another handful of seconds of rubbing at his eyes before Steve emerges. As he does, he lets down the mask he was wearing in stoic good-nature. Now, he simply looks tired.

"'s'okay about hugs, Wade, but thanks," the Captain says quietly, looking down at the fish taco before him now in disappointment. He's not that hungry anymore and it still smells so good. "So." He says the word and pauses, almost with his breath caught in his chest. His frown deepens. By the slump of his shoulders, he seems to decide to be open. "You ever have something come back from your past to slap you upside the head harder than the Stooges' four-by-four beam?"

Deadpool has posed:
Wade watches the deterioration of Steve's mood, and wrinkles his nose and mouth some, apologetic. "I should've waited another ten minutes," Wade observes, but then answers the question with an immediate nod, and a "Yes."

He drinks the new beer, dropping his legs back to the ground like a more normal adult human, and reclines in the chair a smidge. "Usually they want to try to kill me. Do go on."

Captain America has posed:
A faint laugh from the man across from him is followed by a wane attempt at a smile. "Nah, Wade, you asked. Not gonna get mad at that. 'd'be counterintuitive." Steve shifts in his seat as well, folding his arms loosely across his ribs. His eyes briefly rise to Wade. They then fall to one side, at some speck on the carpeting of the bedroom.

"You know 'm with Janet. Turns out that because somebody didn't have enough time to secure one of Howard Stark's devices back when, it -- it did something impossible and now..." His throat bobbles and he licks his lips, shifting again in his seat. "The woman I thought about proposing to back in '45 is here. Now. Alive." His eyes flick to Wade again and linger.

Deadpool has posed:
Bliiink. It's punctuated by Wade taking a big bite of taco, chewing and mostly swallowing it. "Ooo. So there's a tug of war in your heart, huh?" Wade asks with a curious directness. "You have a LOT of timey-wimey things going on." It's just an observation.

"So have all those old feels bubbled up to the surface?" Wade asks, gesturing with his beer upwards. "Or is it more that Janet knows and is weird about it?"

Captain America has posed:
"Both," the Captain replies. He rubs a heel on the carpeted flooring, distracting part of his brain with the sensation of the rug-fabric against his bared skin through the hole in the sock. "I mean...Janet's not being weird about it. She's...being normal about it...?" The tiniest inflection of uncertainty makes it more of a question than a statement.

"I dunno," he finally admits on a sigh. "I dunno if she's being normal about it. And yes, Wade, it's all stuff I thought I'd swept under the rug when I woke up years back. Didn't even go and see if she had a gravestone. Didn't want to accept she was gone -- and here she is and I can't -- " He suddenly throws up his hands and scoffs, his palms slapping hard enough on the table to jostle beer bottles. "What do you do? Wade." The Merc is gestured at. "What would you do?"

Deadpool has posed:
"We're going with what I would do?" Wade asks, as if the very idea of that amused him greatly. "Show up and figure it out. Probably including...." There's a lewd gesture, with a laugh, which suggests that was a throw-away answer. He then holds up a finger in a 'just a minute' motion, and then seems to really give it more of a steady think. He's trying.

Maximum effort.

"So you gotta pick between seein' how you feel about your ex, and the new hotness that you are with NOW, okay. And you don't /know/ who you love," Wade says, as if sorting it all out. It's hard to keep track of everything, let alone for Wade.

"So if I say stick with your lady now, and tell your old ex you've got somebody, does that make you feel like throwing up? If so, you get your answer," Wade decides. "I'd decide which choice made me want to vomit."

Captain America has posed:
Steve's jaw can be seen to flex at the immediate reaction, but he does relax rather than getting more prickly. With the expected flippant answer out of the way, he slowly and silently sigh as he listens, his regard intent upon Wade.

The question makes him look aside again. By the distancing of his eyes, he slips inwards mentally to contemplate. The answer comes slowly but surely. "She wasn't my ex. She was a...dream," he decides, sounding distantly pained. "And I thought it was gone. Thinking about her being alone now makes me sick, yes, but so does the idea of leaving Janet for her. Janet doesn't deserve this from me. This...wishy-washy bunk. Should just go talk to Peggy, get it out of the way. Pull the goddamn sutures out already."

Deadpool has posed:
"Give her a big juicy kiss and see what happens," encourages Wade happily, with a great thumbs up. "So what, you get your heart ripped out, but then you know where the vomit is!" Wade continues. He pats his chin a few times with his fingers, "Well, that metaphor really failed me, didn't it. I just have too much proximity to that other green shit; it was up my nose. I'm still sneezing it out." Distraction!

"If you want to break up with everybody and have that sleepover I'm here to support that too," Wade says, flippant again. But that's part of his defense mechanisms. Gross, heavyhanded humor. "realistically, if Peggy doesn't want any of this," Wade points loosely over Steve, "Well, she's crazy, but it makes things super easy. I mean. It isn't just you choosin'. That's arrogant talk. The lady's got a big say! I mean, I expect it is 'oh yes, YES, YESSSS', but it's a step one?"

Captain America has posed:
Wade gets a long, rather boggled and silent look from Steve throughout his explanation. By the end of it, the Captain does appear to be regretting bringing it all up to some extent. Still, with a weak smile, he tilts his head at the Merc.

"It's a step one," he allows soberly. "'nd no, going and kissing Peggy...that's not gonna solve much of anything. I know it. Rather have my heart remain where it is. You can probably attest to it feeling more uncomfortable than a tickle to have it moved." Out of his chest, Steve does not add. However, he adds instead in cautious manners, "...'nd thanks for the compliment."

Deadpool has posed:
"I am VERY realistic," Wade grins back. His big grins are hard for most people, with his destroyed lips making it ghoulish. He shakes his head. "You have, I /presume/, two very great candidates. I would stop with the stress and enjoy the hell out of it," Wade says, spreading his hands open, across the table. "Stop focusing on the heart ripping part, and on these gals. Like. Why suffer extra? Get that smooch in. Or talk to her, since you're you. And go from there."

"Or I'll go pretend to be you and kiss her. I can give a good report on the result," Wade says, brightly. He winks, though, chewing. It wasn't serious. Or was it?

Captain America has posed:
The amount of flippancy flowing from Wade's mouth, grin and all, is enough to begin to pull the Captain out of the trough of his self-imposed state. Steve rolls his eyes off to one side about smooching the recently-returned Miss Carter and does go darkly gloomy for a passing second. Still, he rallies, and instead of focusing on have-nots, he focuses on the having of the second fish taco because good food is meant to be eaten.

Not a spit-take, but a portion of his food inhaled earned by the offering on the table. Steve has to put down the fish taco and put some true effort into clearing his windpipe. He splutters for a second before coughing hard into his handful of washcloth once. Clearing his throat, he holds up a finger and takes a long swig of his dark beer. Putting the bottle aside, he then points a finger at Wade. Very sternly, evenly, he grits out, "Kissing her would not help me, so please -- do not do it."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade puts his elbows on the table, flips his hands down, and rests his chin on the backs of his wrists. It is an innocent little pose, girlish in a way. "Aw," Wade laments. "You take me so seriously. I'm kind of in love with it. You're so fun." Wade angles his head again, 'shyly' to the side, like he's in some kind of strange romantic comedy.

"Pulled you out of your sad, though, didn't I?" teases the mercenary, with a snap of fingers. "You know what helps for me? A good fight. I can attack you if you'd like me to." That sounded like an entirely real offer. It probably would work as a distraction, wouldn't it!

Captain America has posed:
Steve finishes up the fish taco without further risk of laryngitic spasm or foreign objects in his airway. It is indeed delicious and he wipes off his fingers as well as his mouth before killing another third of his beer.

"Y'know what, Wade, that's a great distraction and I know you mean well, but JARVIS wouldn't take kindly to it. I dunno how you bypassed the security algorithm still, but not a good idea." A little burp. "'nd I'm not //that// serious," the Captain grumbles with a wry curl of a smirk at the Merc.

Deadpool has posed:
"I didn't bring my blades, either," Wade says, in despair, getting to his feet. He's perhaps deliberately caused a big swing in the conversation, manipulating the flow of the chatter. Or he's just dragging the subject off target randomly. Hard to tell, perhaps, with Wade.

He gets to his feet, starting to rake the trash into the mostly destroyed bag, some relaxed cleanup, but then crosses to the kitchen with the garbage to inspect it for knives.

"Getting stabbed in the forehead, while a valid tactic for me, isn't one I can say would work like you want, when you want to forget for a bit," Wade says.

Captain America has posed:
"Wade, you're not -- " The chair scoots with a schuff on the carpet as Steve gets to his feet. His beer is left on the table as he turns and plants his feet, his hands uplifted palms-out towards the Merc at the level of his waist. "Listen to me. There're no knives in this room."

Lies, there's totally a letter-opened in the drawer of his desk, but he's not about to volunteer it.

"I don't want to fight right now. We were having fish tacos?" His voice rises in a clear inflection of confused query. Were they having tacos? He tries to think back and figure out if he'd missed an earlier overture for sparring in their conversation.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade turns around, crosses right up to Steve, without any hint of aggression. Which in itself can be eerie, though Steve hasn't personally actually witnessed a real harsh swing of Wade's into vicious assault.

And that swing isn't this moment, although the potential for it hangs like an odd silence at a party just for a beat as Wade comes back up and looks at his friend dead in the eyes. "We were. But now the tacos are gone," Wade says, and brings a hand up to try to pat Steve's shoulder. If that's not dodged or flung aside, he'll aim palm gently to the side of Steve's neck. It's slightly awkardly tender, but it doesn't cross OVER the line.

"We have a different dynamic than Logan and me. I get that. I'm not going to stab you suddenly," Wade says, deadpan. "But this is how I can help, and I see that."

Captain America has posed:
Steve stays very still -- not as if he might melt into the background or under the premise of 'thou shan't see me if I dost not move' -- but more in readiness to react in case of a shift towards violence. It's an odd thing to see in his eyes, especially at the short distance between him and Wade, and it's a shuttering of his personality almost like blinds drawn over a window.

The patpat on his shoulder garners a minute twitch. The hand on the neck brings up a rueful frown, much like one might give a dog who's chewed up a favorite slipper. The inwards turn of his focus reverses as he replies, "You helped earlier, Wade, when you listened. If you wanna spar, we can, but not in my bedroom. It's not the place or time right now."

Deadpool has posed:
"I would argue that a bedroom includes a great deal of really exciting sparring, particularly when armed----" Wade begins, with the sort of 'up' maniac thing he can head into right before a fight. But, perhaps unexpectedly, Wade pulls his hand back and sets both of his hands into his pockets of the unzipped hoodie.

The reversal isn't into violence, but swings the other way, as some Maximum Effort is applied. Wade wins against himself, for the moment.

"But I heard you earlier about the sleepover," Wade finishes. He watches Steve a little longer, his own expression elusive. "And you have enough torture going on, don't you." There's a little pause.

"I'll kick myself out now," Wade gives, his light eyes showing a self-awareness.

Captain America has posed:
Silence holds court in the master bedroom of the First Avenger for a long enough time that it might become awkward. Potentially, it's at least mildly awkward. Steve shifts in place and pockets his hands in his jeans.

"Look, I appreciate what you did, Wade. You listened. Not a lot of folks have time to do that these days, it feels like. You brought food too. That was kind of you. Don't mean to come off as thankless, but...need time to think now." He tucks his chin. "You've given me some things to mull over." Those true-blue eyes rise to Wade's scarred face again. "Thanks, Wade."

Deadpool has posed:
Silence never holds court for very long with Wade present and able to chatter. So there may be silence on Steve's end, but rarely the mercenary's. Not that it makes it less awkward; Wade can easily still keep that awkward sensation blaring.

Wade does fish in his pants pockets a little bit, and locates a packet of gum. He draws a cinnamon scented piece out and chews it, offering the package across to Steve. It occurred to Wade that there might be a smooch goodbye, and he wanted to not smell terrible.

"It occurs to me there might be a goodbye smoochie, let me fix this. Also for you, because my experience also matters. Not that I have a problem with fish tacos. Boy, do I ever /not/ have a problem. With tacos. But sometimes some EFFORT goes a long way."

That's the response to the silence. Just an outpouring of various chatter. Ennnnnjoy!

"You don't come off as thankless. Just making sure you're a-okay before I remove the Deadpool out into the hallway," Wade says, with a somewhat penetratingly empathetic little look. Because Wade IS crazy. But he's trying to help his buddy.

Captain America has posed:
The piece of gum is eyed in veiled dubiousness, but not wishing to cause offense, Steve takes one and pockets it for later, in case of...something. The outpouring is enough to make the Captain wrinkle his nose; his lips don't quite form a smile, but he's beginning to understand the 'why' of the Wade-banter and the spinning needle on the compass of his emotional sway.

"I'm as okay as I can be right now. I'll be better later, I think." A shrug of those broad shoulders and Steve looks off towards the desk. "Just have to finish up some paperwork and then get some sleep. Seems to heal all ailings...or however that old saying goes."

Deadpool has posed:
Looking away from Wade is sometimes dangerous, particularly when the concept of smooches has already been floated as something that's possible.

"Okay as you can be? Aw. Come here," Wade says, while already moving forward to attempt one of his rather clingy hugs, but it isn't a vice grip and doesn't involve the legs.

Wade, incidentally, is good at hugging, because there's no holding-back tension or worry about it, and there's no strange heterosexual stress about a hug for another person. Mostly platonically. "Betterrrr?" Wade asks, mid-hugattempt.

Captain America has posed:
For once, Steve accepts the hug wholeheartedly. Sure, it's Wade, who smells like fish tacos and cinnamon gum and who very much just encouraged him to go kiss a woman he's very certain might slap him for doing as such, but it is indeed a hug.

And sometimes, you just need a hug.

He hugs the Merc gently back, not entrapping him in the least, and patpats between his shoulderblades with no excessive force. "A little better, sure," he admits, and by his tone, he's not humoring the Merc.

Deadpool has posed:
There's some surprise that registers on Wade's face (which does orient a bit towards Steve's due to the surprisng turn of events) when he's not chucked backwards onto his ass. He'd been pretty open to a possible chuck, since he'd committed into a hug and not being prepared to be flung. He doesn't escalate it weirdly, but improves the hug quality with an easy adjustment and moderate little squeeze. Sometimes, a hug IS needed! Wade can relate.

Wade's far easier to hug when he's not bristling with weaponry, either.

"You'll be okay," Wade assures, with a strong cinnamon scent. "Too much love ain' bad."

Captain America has posed:
Much easier to hug without weaponry.

Steve patpats the Merc between the shoulders again lightly and nods, his gaze off somewhere over the man's shoulder in the room. "I dunno...sometimes it seems overcomplicated 'nd I wish it were simpler. But I guess that's the rub of it, huh." He does look to Wade out of the corner of his eye, turning his face slightly and lifting a brow as if wondering if the Line of Awkward is being approached. "If it was easy, wouldn't be such a thing."

Deadpool has posed:
"So, I /do/ want to squeeze your butt, but I'm not," Wade feels the need to explain. "And I have this feeling like it may have occurred to you that I'd be interesting to kiss, maybe even just to see what I'd do, but perhaps I imagined it. Sometimes things just arrive in my head. I'd probably just pat your head and remind you that you have two lovely ladies interested, and I'm a bag of shitface zombie cats that is a whole other level beyond what you can't deal with now."

Line: 0

Wade: 1

Still. Wade attempts to put a sudden, unexpected smoochie on Steve's jaw near the ear, and then releases, with a relaxed and proud smile, as if it were all just normal, and Wade's gaze slides towards the door.

Line: 0

Wade: 2.

Uninterrupted, Wade MIGHT leave on his own!

Captain America has posed:
The revelation of aborted handsiness is enough to make Steve give Wade a flat look now, dead-on. He leans back within the circling of the hug. "Thank you for not doing that. I think your bag of cats needs some fresh air," he says drily. The sudden smooch is enough have him reflexively wince away, perhaps factoring in the possibility of a headbutt and not affection, and he steps back from Wade. Fingers rub at the spot as he adds,

"Alright, Wade, thank you, you can go now. Don't let me keep you. I'm sure you have something...important to do," the Captain says with a flick of his brows. "A bounty to cash in?"

Deadpool has posed:
"You're so jumpy. I haven't ever harmed you, have I? Or is this a reputation thing? Because I DO attack people," Wade chuckles. "I feel famous when you do that. Like you've HEARD things." Wade then sobers really abruptly, chews on his gum. "Maybe that's why I have a lack of friends. Huh." Chewing on that thought and the gum, Wade starts towards the door.

"Bye then. Have a good think or whatever. Call if you get lost in your own head. I might not be in the middle of something. It varies." Wade opens the door for himself.

Captain America has posed:
"Thanks, I'll...have a good think," Steve replies as he watches the Merc excuse himself from the bedroom. He blows a hard sigh and glances back over at the notebook left on the desk. One last rub at his face and he shakes his head, murmuring to himself,

"It's like one of those European kisses or something." Plunking down at the desk, he pulls the paperwork back over and lifts the pencil. His scratching at the list resumes. This time, however, he seems a little more composed. Turns out fish tacos weren't such a bad idea after all.