7552/Kiss her (or me), Requiem for a smoochie

Kiss her (or me), Requiem for a smoochie
Date of Scene:	20 May 2019
Location:	Steve's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Steve kills Wade with niceness.
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Captain America

---

Deadpool has posed:
There's no lights in the Rogers' quarters; it's quiet, serene. There IS a big yellow duffelbag by the front door on the floor at the end of the couch, which may invite investigation. Even a cursory investigation will find a Wade Wilson that probably intended to wait a bit... but has fallen asleep on the couch.

He's on his side, dressed similarly to before -- except that instad of jeans to go with his casual homeless-person navy hoodie, he has Garfield branded pajama bottom style lounge pants on. Some cozy wooly socks. He's curled up partially, arm under his head, and hood up as well, loosely draped over his bald head. He isn't snoring.

Maybe someone did stab him in the lung.

Captain America has posed:
The sound of the bedroom's door opening isn't anything sneaky - not at all. Steve isn't expecting anyone to be in his room. This is further revealed by how he closes the door and walks into it without flipping the overhead light on. The curtains of the windows across the far wall are mostly shut, but ambient light falls in and upon the duffel bag in particular.

That's not Janet's duffel bag. Janet wouldn't go within a hundred yards of that bag.

The Captain pauses and stares at it. His eyes do a cursory sweep of the room even as he begins to slip into a defensively crouched stance, making note of the nearest object to hide behind. He does spot the figure on the couch and straightens in place with a quiet sound of ire.

"Wade, what are you doing here?!" For some reason, keeping the lights off means that Steve still pitches his voice in a harsh whisper.

Deadpool has posed:
"Mmmmmmmh," Wade says, reaching both hands up onto his face and pulling the strings on his hood, to cause the hood to tighten in around his head and ears to make a small open spot around his nose and mouth.

"I'm having a dreammmmmm," Wade complains, grabbing at the couch and pulling one of the pillows on over his head as well, burrowing into the couch to some extent. Not very successfully, he's a big athletic guy, but the intent is there.

Captain America has posed:
"Wade, that makes no sense." Steve's footsteps can be heard to travel past the couch and over to the desk. A sharp click is followed by the desk lamp itself coming on, probably almost shockingly bright in comparison to closed eyelids and the relative darkness of the room beforehand.

The shadow of the Captain crosses the half-hidden body of Wade before he arrives at the couch, arms crossed. "Wade, wake up. Why are you in my room?" Steve doesn't sound //incredibly// shocked to be asking this question, but hey, it's like spinning a roulette wheel. You never know what you're going to get.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade rolls over, pulling the gun from under his pillow and thrusting his arm sleepily up and loosely in the direction of the voice. He then squints, one-eyed, through the peephole of his sweatshirt, and tosses the gun onto the nearest table or surface after a quick twitch of fingers secures the safety.

"I had a message," Wade replies, rolling onto his back, and shoving open the hood. He has a print of the couch seam on his face. Or maybe that's just some weird scarring. Both?

Wade squints, and presses a finger to his forehead, as if pressure at that spot would coax him to remember what it was. "Somethin' about the job you hired me for."

Captain America has posed:
"SH -- "

Curse aborted after Steve slides very quickly to one side, out of immediate line of sight of the handgun. He rubs a hand down his face as he watches it be removed from immediate possibility of use. As he speaks quietly, he takes up the weapon and moves it to the far end of his desk.

"The job I hired you for. About the Sentinel robots?" he prompts. "Or something else?"

Deadpool has posed:
"Hey, no, that's my teddy bear," Wade says, suddenly extremely awake, and pointing at the gun. He then squints, perhaps hearing himself (or not?) and flips back to tired: or just drops back to lay back down again, and lets one leg drop to the floor: semi-sprawled. It's probably a little alarming to watch the weirdness.

"Urgh. Um." Wade pats his head with his palm a few times. There's some clear difficulty. "Yeah, related. And about the guy people tried to kill. His name isn't coming to me. Bruno? No. Something lamer than that."

Captain America has posed:
Steve lofts an eyebrow and does not retrieve the teddy bear-gun. "You mean John Doe? The man connected to the Sentinel robots? You've got news on him?" He doesn't seem too bothered by the odd, doll-legged slump upon his couch, not now that there might be very pertinent information to be reported. Whatever it might be, it's unexpected and wanted, even if all the Captain wanted to do when he got in was shower and flop onto his own bed for some shut-eye.

Deadpool has posed:
"What? No. The other guy. He's like Stark but eeeeevil, made the Sentinels," Wade says, snapping his fingers at Steve with an expectant pressured squint of both eyes. "Whatever. That guy," Wade clarifies. "So I followed the chain up into the groups that were offering to pay ME, and it led to that piece of human garbage." Wade remains in the sprawled position, stretches a little more, which exposes some of his lower abdomen when his shirt and the sweatshirt ride up. It's not really any issue or gross aside from that it makes it clear Wade's skin issue is ALL of his skin, even the generally muscular abs got wrecked by it.

"SO, that's not the information. The part that chewed on my brain was that there's no contracts to get the person that attacked him. Isn't that STRANGE?"

Captain America has posed:
"Trask," the Captain mouths to himself upon the extremely apt description of the short man. He lofts the other eyebrow slowly as he listens to the tale of Deadpool gumshoeing. With a hard huff of a sigh, he backsteps until he can sit hipshot on his desk.

"It's very strange," Steve agrees. "Lemme get this straight. Trask put out that bounty on John Doe initially and there's nothing aimed back at him? Or is it that there's nothing for anyone as far as going after who attacked Trask?" Clarity is important here before fingers can be pointed, after all.

Deadpool has posed:
"Right. Trask. Okay. Storytime," Wade says, climbing to his feet, and padding in his socks over to the fridge. Steve might wonder what he's after, until he pulls a soda out of it that he put in there when he first arrived. It's a Squirt. He cracks it, starting to come back over. And talking, of course.

"Right okay. Lots of contracts. Contract one, to go get your scientist guy. Didn't take that one at the time. Airport stuff happened for you. Great. Contract two, price went way up after that, for info or the guy. I checked in with you, cause I mean, I could have used that money. You paid me, I stayed off of it, but I watched it anyway. Some Black Dragon guys took it, but they're not /me/," Wade says. It's all sort of on one breath, which was impressive. Wade takes a moment to breathe now.

"So anyhow, they were concerned when Trask was put in the ICU: was that job valid still. I chatted with one of the guys. And I decided to ask about if they wanted his assassin killed. Apparently NOT. For a guy that puts out hits on scientists, you'd think he'd be the type."

Wade sits back down on the couch. "So that's one of two things," he says, showing fingers. "Either they know who it is and HAVE the guy, or they know who it is and there's already a bounty or they can't get at him for some reason. Either way: they do KNOW."

Captain America has posed:
It's all enough to make those strong arms fold tightly and his lips pull thin in disapproval. Don't forget those Disappointed Eyebrows.

"I think you're right, Wade," he says after a handful of seconds, his voice low and thoughtful. "It sounds like Trask knows who came after him and can't act on it. Or won't act on it." His eyes slide to one side, towards the duffel bag at the end of the couch, and looks at it without acknowledging it.

"...you don't think he'd be pulling a publicity stunt with it?" Steve glances back at the Merc seated on his sofa. "Trying to sway public opinion?"

Deadpool has posed:
"Have you not SEEN the interwebs? It is full of angry trolls that want to kill mutants that dared try to make a martyr of Trask," Wade says, with a sharp laugh. "So maybe he's getting what he wants anyway, huh. ALL THE HATE!" Wade gestures with both hands in a strangling motion, strangling a person that isn't there with hooked fingers. He slurps his soda.

"Anyway, I dunno who went after him. Maybe he's a big faker and did it to himself," Wade suggests. "I mean. Then he'd know who did it! Publicity stunt!"

Captain America has posed:
"Right, a publicity stunt, and it looks like someone else did while he hired someone to pull it off...or yeah, he...pushed a button beneath himself and voila: the soup's thicker." Steve rubs behind his ear at an itch that isn't there, frowning off to one side yet again.

"Only thing that'd solve this seems like an exposure. Blow the cover off his attempt to sway public opinion. Set a bug in the system, record him saying something to dig himself into a deeper hole. Worked for Nixon," and the Captain laughs to himself wryly before scoffing. It's all a mess.

Deadpool has posed:
"Like, proof he shot himself?" Wade grins a little bit. "Well, maybe. I bet all the Sentinels watch him, creepy like, all the time." He squints a little bit, and makes a gesture of two fingers from his eyes, over to Steve, in a 'watching yooou' motion of fingers back and forth.

Wade tucks his legs back up onto the couch, and takes a big gulp of his soda. Too much: he coughs heavily a little bit, but rights himself. He then scoot-scoots on the couch, and pats next ot him. Pat. Pat pat.

Captain America has posed:
And that, apparently, is a thought. A gleam flashes through Steve's eyes as he nods slowly, his mouth forming a speculative 'o'. He pulls out his phone and opens the notes app in it; a quick typity-typing and the thought is squirreled away for future reference. He knows precisely who to talk to.

The gesture to join Wade on the couch is at first received with the usual two or three seconds of skepticism; the Captain's weighing the off-chance of the usual shenanigannery. Still, choosing as he always does to believe in the better of people (those non-HYDRA by affiliation, that is), he stands up from his seat upon the edge of the desk. A heavier flop onto the couch is followed by a puft of a sigh. "Sometimes, I miss the world when the only weird thing was me," he mutters.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade doesn't climb into his lap, but Steve might be able to see the thought occur to him, it just about takes a parade across Wade's face, but he just turns some, his legs and knees still up -- and rather in the way of any lap-climbing. So it doesn't happen: at least, not yet. The night is still young. Wave's posture is a great deal like a slumber party pal ready to hear a good story. Wade rests one arm on the couch back, and props his cheek against that wrist.

"What was that even LIKE? Isn't it better to not be the only one?" Wade asks.

Captain America has posed:
With his head flumped back against the couch's cushion, Steve considers the ceiling of his bedroom with a mildly concerned squint. He normally would have sprawled his arms across its backing, but that would be encroaching on Wade's personal space and that's not polite. Still, he turns his face towards the Merc, never lifting his head up in the process.

"No spaceships. No cellphones. No Lisa Frank. No canned cheese spray. No vaccine for polio. There was cocaine in the medication my mother gave me to open up my lungs." That being said, he adds in a less dry voice, "It wasn't so bad, but...yeah, it was lonely sometimes."

Deadpool has posed:
As if Wade would have minded? Just depends. But unlikely. Wade's open about his personal space. As in, it's open for business.

Wade reacts to each of the different things with a gasp. "Gosh." "Gee." "NO!" "HOW DID YOU LIVE." And so forth.

But then the lonliness admission gets just a frown, and a nod. Wade drums his fingers against the side of his head near the ear, and clears his throat. "I also sometimes miss cocaine."

Captain America has posed:
"Wade."

Steve levels a look at him.

"I do not miss the cocaine. It might have opened up my lungs, but it was hell on the rest of me. 'sides...even if I had a hankering for it, it'd do nothing to me. Body metabolizes it now too fast. Why waste the time." He shifts in his seat and really sets his jaw. "'nd y'know what else I don't get? Smoking. It causes cancer and yet people still do it. Y'know what the doctors prescribed to me for my breathing problems? //Cigarettes.//"

The Captain throws up a hand before letting it fall to the arm of the couch with a loud thump. "I take it back. I miss very little of it."

Deadpool has posed:
"I might have some cocaine," Wade stage-whispers very loudly. Not here, probably: he doesn't seem to be dressed for all his pockets and pouches at the moment. But doubting that Deadpool has cocaine is sheer folly.

"I'm sort of immune to getting more cancer. I'm lord of cancers," Wade comments. And pauses, with some interest. "Breathing problems? Before the special sauce you had? Huh. Yeah, I wouldn't miss that. I value breathing a lot. That is one of the worst ways to almost-die. Blech. Not recommended. Drowning is not fun either."

Good, honest advice from Wade Wilson. "I think you miss things being simple. Not /better/. Now's better. I mean. Look at us. Well, you. I suspect I'm the ugly friend that makes you feel better about yourself." .... "But I'm okay with that," Wade assures.

Captain America has posed:
Wade gets a one-sided smile complete with humoring quirk of brows. "Wade, you're no walk in the park, but you've got a good heart in you under all of the..."

He spins a finger in air as he thinks of the right way to say it, his mouth hanging a little open in bated breath.

"...sack of cats," he decides rather diplomatically. "But yeah, you're a friend. I've got one just like you, who can't find a nice bone in his body for himself. Now is better. You treat me like an equal. You don't go around treating me like I'm some...impossible person to put on a pedestal. Hell, you bring beer and fish tacos like it's just another weeknight. I'm grateful."

Deadpool has posed:
"We aren't equal," Wade answers, his tone somewhat direct. "You're god's gift to america, with an ass that I can barely suppress the wish to squeeze," Wade says, entirely straight arrow. "And I have killed more people than you are comfortable with thinking about," Wade continues, as if this grave couldn't get any deeper.

"I don't know where I was going with that, to be honest. I was just saying true things. But what I meant was like ... you can be a water pokemon, and I'll be an electric pokemon, but we're pokemon. Or whatever. Sometimes heroes. And it's cool."

"I just listened to myself a little there. Next time, you should kiss me strong and hard, so that I'll not do that," Wade advises flippantly, and reaches out to pat his friend's shoulder. In Wade's weirdly crazy way, he's conveyed the feeling is mutual.

Captain America has posed:
By Steve's expression, he can't decide whether or not to laugh or dredge up a full smile in a truly awkward attempt to humor the Merc.

"Rrrrrright, yes, we'll be...pokemon creatures when we're not being heroes. And thank you for not squeezing my ass," he says blithely. "You think we're not equal though?" His expression grows more somber. It is, in fact, the unconscious and very beginnings of the legendary Sad Steve Eyes. This is also, in fact, how he very deliberately twisted old Barnes's arm on a regular basis when he didn't want to do things like dishes.

Deadpool has posed:
Ah! Sad eyes! Ah! "Ah! Don't be sad!" Deadpool says quickly. They're so legendary! And sort of great to see, if they weren't aimed at Deadpool. The problem with sad eyes at Deadpool is that it shakes the Deadpool tree up significantly and it's hard to know what will fall out of it. Lots of weird shit lives in Deadpool's twisted Tim Burton tree.

"No, I'd probably win in a fight," Deadpool says, mood swinging steeply. "I mean. I can do that all day."

Teehee.

Captain America has posed:
There goes the pendumlum of Mercly Mannerisms and Steve's brows slowly go up an appreciable amount. Banished are the Sad Steve Eyes like a droplet of water in a frying pan.

"I believe you, Wade," he replies solemnly. "But I hope we don't ever get into it. It'd be a mess." It is a most pragmatic answer. He shifts in place on the couch and swings back to the previous line of conversation. "Guess I meant 'equal' as in, we're both human. Y'know, human beings living and trying to be...I dunno, good people." He barks a short flat laugh and rubs at his eyes with one hand. "God, that sounded trite."

Deadpool has posed:
Shhhk shhhk shkkk. That's the Deadpool tree shaking again. It's disorienting, often. And it is one of Deadpool's primary weapons in a fight. To be doing one thing, acting one way, and then to swing like a door you thought had a doorstop.

"I believe in YOU," Wade says, throwing his weight sideways, in a rather beautiful little spin on his ass, to turn his upper body towards Steve... and to suddenly dump his upper torso towards Steve's lap. To block, it would just about require Steve to hit him in the head or neck. If there was strategy, it would be a sound one. For someone that wanted to lay in a lap, anyway.

"Sorry, keep going, don't let me distract you," Wade says. "You can be trite. I like it." It isn't flirty, somehow. Platonic? Barely.

"/I/ am more of a meat popsicle than a human, sometimes. But I'm feeling pretty human right now. I'll try more. Maximum effort." Thumbs up.

Captain America has posed:
Wade will feel Steve barely maintain a bucking jump in place as he flumps across the man's thighs. That's what the Captain gets for massaging at his closed eyelids and cutting off his field of vision. His hands now hover in uncertain paused action over the arm and back of the couch. Wade gets a look seen more often in people with cat allergies suddenly entertaining a kitten on their lap; to shove or not to shove?!

"Uh, yeah, Wade, maximum effort at being human, right. You're doing a great job of it." Seeming to fight with himself briefly over the risk of kicking the Deadpool tree yet again, he then decides to add with a note of plain sincerity, "I believe in you too."

Deadpool has posed:
"Aw. Thank you. I'm touched," Deadpool, taps one finger to his lips, raises it towards Steve, and waggles it around in a little circle. It's like a child holding a stick with dog shit on the tip, trying to make another child react.

Wade doesn't push it, though, he smiles in a softened, natural way, wiggles the finger just once, and drops it back to his chest. For a moment, an EXTENDED moment, Wade's gaze was steady, and he calms down. He doesn't move, but the tree limbs must have all broken off.

His brows drop a little, and he watches Steve with a presence of mind that suddenly makes Wade's appearance truly horrible. For maybe the very first time, some real echo of human awareness or saddness came up. "Unrealistic of you, but appreciated. I think I've shown you every reason to not really think that." Wade sets his hands on his upper chest, weaving the distorted fingers, with their misshapen fingernails. "But I hear the sarcasm anyway, so that's all right. I know what I am."

Captain America has posed:
"You're welcome." Steve still remains as unflustered as he can manage with the finger drawing its esoteric circles at his face. It reminds him of the old camp pranks with the Howling Commandos; memory flashes before his mental eye: "Here, Cap, eat this, it's good for you." - Dum-Dum holding up a fingerling catfish still wriggling.

The shift in the Merc's behavior, however, has his brows drawing together again. His lips pull to one side. "Wade. I don't lie. Lying's not worth it. Also, that was not me being sarcastic. You'll know if I'm being sarcastic. Promise."

Deadpool has posed:
A sigh is huffed, after a breath is gathered, long and deep, from just about every part of Wade's body. There's a weight to him, when he comes back from wherever he's normally going mentally. He sits there and looks at the ceiling, and... worst of all...

Wade isn't chattering.

It's like there's no pose at all, it's very confusing for everyone.

Captain America has posed:
Schooling himself and shoving aside the lingering whisper to remove the Merc from his lap, Steve then rests his temple against his fisted fingers and looks down at him. Patiently, as if he had all the time in the world, he waits for a good number of seconds in the sudden and unexpected silence from the normally budgie-like Wade.

"Y'know, this is normally the part where I might be sarcastic, but I feel that's not gonna improve the situation at hand," he mutters without a hint of ire. His eyes then rise to the window of his room, with its curtains half-drawn, and the glimmer of the city lights beyond it. "Also not gonna take back what I said. Figure you need to hear it now and then."

Deadpool has posed:
Wa
Wade seems to listen; he also turns a little bit at first, then more, rolling onto his si
Wade to face the back of the couch. He's still occupying lap, obviously, but not as much of it. Though if he'd react like a rattlesnake to being pushed off, that's another question.

Wade does face the back cushions, and puts one hand up un
Wader his face, so that his palm is on Steve's thigh. But it's just to position his head, not thigh-grab. ....Steve would know it if that was the motive. Wa
Wade doesn't do subtle. Until he does. But tonight may not be that night.

"When you hear it ALL the time, does it help /you/? Or does it just make you feel like you gotta be perfect?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve closes his eyes for a second as if very much fighting the urge to roll the Merc off his lap, but still, he does not. This is some weird form of progress and hey - he tamed the Winter Soldier by being persistent and methodical; Wade's a self-identified different sack of cats.

"Which, that I'm a good human or that someone believes in me? I know I'm not perfect, Wade. I realized a while back that I do a lot of things out of spite. I'm a stubborn ass who should know better half the time 'nd I ignore it anyways. But I get things done 'nd somehow, it still aligns with the needs of today's society." He shrugs a little. "I like hearing it because it means people believe in what I do. Everybody's got some good inside of 'em until they show me otherwise."

Deadpool has posed:
"I'd like to have MORE good inside me, if you know what I mean," Wade says, sweetly. Yes, it was flirty. Because it just had to be said. It's WADE. Even coherent, he's a cheeky ass.

"You asked for that. But okay. Nobody expects perfect from me. Sort of easy. But also not great. No, not really great. No real push to meet expectations. But since I don't usually /remember/ the expectations, that means it's fine in the end. Or most of the time. Just don't think too hard, or feel too hard. But /be/ hard. I like to be hard, so long as there's relief in sight."

Considering how lucid Wade actually sounds, he's doing this on purpose. Not only is he coherent, but he's deliberately acting like what he assumes he is usually. Acting like... himself?

It's all very interception. Or something like that. It's early, what do you want.

Wade does settle, with a wiggle of hip and shoulder, and sigh softly, eyes closed. From all appearances he's going to just rest right there, warm and comforted. Sometimes a human person just wants a cuddle.

And a good nap.

Wade does move his free hand to pat Steve's side once. Pat. Wade does know. At least right now, what Steve is giving, with his tolerance.