7587/I Scream, You Scream, We Discuss Important things! And eat ice cream.

I Scream, You Scream, We Discuss Important things! And eat ice cream.
Date of Scene:	22 May 2019
Location:	Gravesend, Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Desserts and discussion on the boardwalk. Conclusions are drawn and all's well that ends well - this time.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I'm not buying you ice cream if all you're gonna get is vanilla."

Janet stands on her tiptoes to look into the ice cream van, the Ben&Jerry's logo prominently plastered on the side. She curls her fingers around Steve Rogers' arm for balance and lifts her round designer shades off her face to get better contrast.

"I mean *look* at these flavors. Tropical fruit, dark chocolate, frozen lemonade, banana daquiri... You've gotta live a little, honey. Break out of the rut." Her bare calves flex and then she drops back onto her four-inch wedges. It's a hot day by New York standards; Janet's in a shoulder baring white tee and yellow cotton shorts that cling tightly enough to be inappropriate for anything but being with a stone's throw of the beach. Fortunately the Boardwalk's proximity to the lapping waters has brought out a fair few people starting their summer tan.

She glances up at Steve with a mischevious look as he deliberates. "You know, I'll have the Karamel Sutra," Janet tells the server with a completely straight face. She puts her sunglasses back on and turns around so she can look at the milling crowd but still more or less face Steve. "That sounds like just the thing. A little different than what you're probably used to," she allows, "but once you get your tongue around it I think you'll find that-- different can be fun as well," she says, baiting Steve with the utterly indiscernable way she's absolutely teasing him.

Captain America has posed:
"It's definitely different..." The reply, droll and dry and laden with the perfect understanding that he's being teased, floats down to her from on high. Steve hooks a fingernail to the side of his aviator sunglasses to pull them down and consider the ice cream menu one more time.

"Cookie dough, please," the Captain then tells the server as he plucks his billfold from the back pocket of his dark board shorts. Muscles ripple under the red t-shirt and no doubt garner attention whether he likes it or not. Bills are passed over, 'keep the change, no, really', and Steve steps to one side to wait for the cones to be served up. Still with his sunglasses perched a bit farther down his nose, he considers Janet. "Karamel Sutra, huh?" A little pink at his ears isn't sunburn.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet doesn't seem to mind that Steve bought the ice cream one bit. Even if it had been her suggestion to get ice cream in the first place. And she'd cajoled him into blowing off work for the afternoon by offering to buy. And then leveraged it to make him try something new.

Janet accepts her ice cream bowl from the server (because cones would mess up her lipstick) and waits for Steve's to get handed over. Meanwhile, she looks up at him utterly unrepentantly and takes a bite of ice cream. The spoon's rolled around, twisted, and dragged out over her tongue with a loud *pop*. "I was gonna ask if I have to explain that joke, but either you've heard of the book or you need more sunscreen on your ears."

She wriggles under the circle of Steve's left arm and presses against him with a casual sort of feline ownership in a manner more appropriate for a dark nightclub than the boardwalk, and offers him up a bite of the ice cream while his is being dished.

Captain America has posed:
The server pauses briefly in scooping up the cookie dough ice cream from its tub and Steve's warning side-look over the silver-reflective sunglasses is enough to make the scooping continue.

"Heard of it." He leaves his arm around Janet, but the Captain's PDA limits itself to a very chaste resting of his palm upon the rounding of her shoulder. He's very, very aware of how Janet's plastered herself to his hip otherwise. Dipping his head, he eats the bite of the new flavor and nods to himself as he mulls it around his tongue. Mmm, vanilla and caramel against the dark chocolate brownie bits. "Not half bad," comes the opinion, followed by a thank-you as he's handed his waffle-cone of cookie dough ice cream.

Despite holding the motherload of deliciousness in-hand, the man sighs. "Let's walk and talk, shortcakes. Well...you wanna walk and talk or head back to the mansion? Or your place?" The pink on his ears hasn't faded.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I don't mind walking around. Sun feels nice," Janet says nonchalantly. "I'mma go do some tanning on the patio later, it's finally nice enough for it."

They walk a few dozen yards, enjoying the banality of consuming ice cream, and they come up short for a cool moment of shade under a sprawling tree canopy that stubbornly defies the saltwater spray and the cold New York winters.

"You haven't said *anything* about my outfit, by the way," she tells Steve, and does a model's pivot on her toes. "Carol's been helping me with my squat routine. Tell me I don't look adorable, I dare you." She looks back at Steve over her shoulder and shimmies her hips at him. "Lookit that booty, bein' like, *pow*," she says, hips twitching. "Like, *pow* *pow*." She keeps backing up and shifting, then looks over her shoulder again. "I can't help but notice the lack of hands admiring my new gym routine, Steve," she complains. "The least you could do is show some appreciation."

Captain America has posed:
As they walk along the boardwalk, Steve might seem to eat his ice cream at a far more sedate and musing pace. He at least had the forethought to wrap the waffle-cone itself in a wad of napkins so the driplets don't start running down his fingers. Ugh, sticky fingers, bane of his existence.

He pauses too in the shade, seeming to be brought out of his introspective state by the sudden reel of impish chatter. Eyebrows appear from behind the sunglasses and he mouths something to himself before licking his lips. It has nothing to do with ice cream lingering on them at all.

"I...appreciate the view, Janet, believe me, but I'm not about to be a skid-rogue and feel you up in public. It's not something a gentleman would do." Definitely not a sunburn on his ears now. "You're a lady and you get treated like one."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet comes up short and turns to face Steve. Sunglasses are levered up and she peers up at his face. "I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"Okay, yes, I can tell you're being serious," she allows, a beat later. "But I can't decide if I'm flattered or insulted." She considers him over another smooth bite of ice cream. "I think I'm insulted that I'm not hot enough to overcome your instincts on flattering," she concludes, finally.

She nudges Steve towards a park bench, a little pensive quiet, and once they're settled she curls into Steve's left side, crossing her legs at the ankle and draping her legs over his thigh. "Honey, am I making you uncomfortable?" she asks, finally. She looks up at Steve, a little worry on her features. "I know the dynamic's, umm.... changed a bit for us lately," she allows. She sighs. "I keep forgetting you were brought up in a very different sort of Brooklyn."

Captain America has posed:
As bulky as the soldier is, he's an easy move for the wee fashionista after a gentle directioning on her part. Settling on the bench in his own variant of solemn silence, he puts an arm behind Janet along the bench's back. The lissome legs over his thigh are acknowledge but not moved away at the time -- some consensus has to be had, in his mind.

Steve starts out evenly, conscientious by his tone. "I was brought up in a time when dating wasn't just for fun." A pause and a grimace as he thinks about how to explain it. His sunglasses are removed and hung at the collar of his shirt before he puts his arm back around behind her, his other hand occupied with holding the melting ice cream cone. "Not flippant. It was...there was competition to it. Guys had to be popular just like the gals. Money, clothing...manners," he adds with a significant glance at her. "You worked for the chance to be with a knockout. You charmed a lady, maybe she gave you a kiss. Kisses meant something more'n just affection back then. You had to be smooth, genuine...'nd you had only one shot. A lady with other guys after her? In demand? You ruin your shot, that's it -- didn't another chance."

He looks over at his ice cream, eyes the way a globlet of cookie dough is appearing like a boulder out of glacier melt. "If the ladies wanted you? You were the king of the world." A little laugh escapes him, just a touch flat. "Buck 'nd I, we didn't have money or clothing. Manners, yes, 'nd Buck was always the cool cat. Never had much of a chance to compete." The Captain looks back at Janet, an earnest light in his eyes now. "So yes, Janet van Dyne, you're a lady and you're gonna get treated like one because that simple courtesy? You get it in spades."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"If I wasn't such a self-serving bitch, I'd tell you that you could have any woman you wanted. But since I *am*, I'm going to just keep rolling forward with the status quo where you appreciate how good you have it, just so you stay on your best behaviour." Janet scoops up some of her ice cream and offers it to Steve, a solicitous gesture to take any bite out of her words.

She goes quiet for a few minutes, thinking. When Steve starts to speak, she holds a hand up. "I'm thinking, give me a minute," she says around a bite of ice cream.

"Okay, here's the problem with that logic," she says finally. She curls in and rests her head on Steve's shoulder, enjoying the reassuring solidarity of his personal presence. "You got your lady. It's set, we're locked and loaded now. You don't have to..." She furrows her brow. "I don't know. I've got this little part of me that did cotillions and formal affairs, and she's going 'this is all proper and good and it's in the rules'. Then there's this OTHER part of me," she says, and tries to spoon a bite out of Steve's ice cream. "And she's going 'hell no, feminine mystique, get off the pedastle in his mind, burn your bra,'" she explains.

"I've been with guys who treated me like a lady because they expected me to *act* like a Lady. You know. Submissive, modest, chaste, quiet." Her eyes roll and she looks up at Steve. "Tell me if that sounds *remotely* like me."

Captain America has posed:
Steve accepts the conciliatory offering of ice cream from his lover with a marked squint to express his mild disapproval. Still, this is a discussion, not an argument, and he goes back to eating his own dessert with a quiet haste. After all, it's melting! By the time Janet's asking for another minute or so to formulate words, at least half of the cookie dough cone is gone -- an impressive feat, and no brainfreeze to boot. Steve nods and simply settles back to observe and listen.

When she lays her head upon his shoulder, he leans his own over to rest cheek upon her dark hair. It smells of her personal choice in shampoo and he cycles through breathing slowly, lids momentarily half-shuttering his eyes. Something in his heart settles another notch. She's perfectly allowed to steal the spoonful of cookie dough and he even brings it closer to allow a better gathering of a bite.

Her question has him laughing softly. "I think I'd be wondering if you were sick if you were any of those," he allows quietly, wearing a small smile. "But here's the thing, shortcakes. If I got saucy with you -- grabbed your butt, picked you up and threw you over my shoulder, cat-called you right here in front of everybody else -- 'm pretty sure you wouldn't think it was respectful." An eyebrow begs her to disagree with him.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Hnn..." Janet holds a hand up and then theatrically rests fingertips against her sternum. Ice cream threatens to drip from the other end of the spoon. "Hang on, I want to savour that mental image a bit," she tells Steve. Her neck mottles just a little.

She sighs happily, shoulders and chest rising and falling in a wholly over the top fashion, and goes quiet again. Long enough for Steve to realizes she's bending her brain to the issue once more. This is a lot of self-introspection for the vain little socialite.

"Okay, help me out here," she says, finally. "I don't-- I can kind of see both sides of it. I love how you open the doors for me and you get my coat and you don't like, cuss and belch in front of me. But I... well, this was our whole dating life up until the roboslut showed up," Janet says. "I couldn't tell if you were *really* into me because like, you were so nice and polite. Never flirted with me or told me you thought I looked hot. I thought I was maybe embarassing you. Or... you know, you weren't really attracted to me," she says, fumbling for the words. Her complexion darkens and she looks moodily at her ice cream, uncomfortable with this level of self-introspection.

Captain America has posed:
Knowing he's plucked an internal string to resonate with Janet, the Captain goes back to being simply and silently present. He eats at his ice cream and glances every now and then from it to her, checking in without being overt about it.

Her eventual conclusion and its attending observations is enough to make the pink crest his cheeks and his ears. In her way, she isn't wrong, and it's enough to pinch at Steve's conscience. He pulls his mouth to one side as he looks at the Wasp's averted face.

"I think..." Steve pauses, gathering his thoughts better. "You seemed to have a good idea of what you wanted and I didn't want to screw it all up. I'd like to think I'm a straight-forward kind of guy, but...guess I wasn't clear enough. The clone put things into better perspective." His arm drops from the back of the bench to wrap around her shoulders; fingers rub at her elbow before cupping it. He sighs as if readying himself. "Janet, I've said it before, I'll say it again: you're my dynamite gal. You want me to tell you how it is, I will when the moment strikes me. You'll know it and it'll mean something. 'm not gonna ladle out hollow compliments because that's a waste of your time and mine."

A beat.

"...and those shorts do things to me," he adds a little roughly, swallowing hard.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet grins up at Steve and wiggles closer against him. "Oh baby, I could do all *sorts* of things to you." She giggles at his inevitable blushing reaction and levers up to kiss his cheekbone fondly.

"See, there you go, that just made my at least my afternoon and possibly early evening," she says with a much brighter tone.

"Steve, I think you're super straightforward," she assures him. "In your own clumsy, ancient way. I think ..." She frowns, pensively. "I think you gotta see a difference between flirting with me for the sake of trying to get in my shorts for the first time, and flirting with me to make me feel good. I *like* it when you flirt with me," she tells him. "Because I like you, and I like knowing that you're attracted to me. And I like knowing that *you* like to make me feel good about myself."

"And I like knowing you're still trying to get in my shorts," she adds, and looks over her spoonful of ice cream with as innocent an expression as she can manage.

Spoiler alert: Not Very.

Captain America has posed:
The inevitable blush does not fade a hint by the time Janet enjoys that bite of her dessert. Steve's smile has that rueful hint to it set equally off by the fondness he finds in the wee fashionista. Her innocent expression gets a small, knowing shake of his head.

"It seems a little...unsatisfying to give you compliments when you fish for them. Wouldn't you rather I tell you when I mean it?" He leans in and presses a kiss to her temple. "'nd besides, <<seilean>>, you know I'm right fond of you," he adds, sure to frost his words through with Gaelic accent in unabashed attempt at charm.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet giggles and leans hard into the affection from Steve. "Yes, I know you are," she assures Steve. She wiggles upwards and kisses the underside of Steve's blockily defined jaw. "I mean, I know you always mean it. And no, I don't like asking," she allows. "I don't like sounding ... y'know, insecure and needy like that."

Janet's lips quirk into a thoughtful frown. "I guess... I know it's a little stereotypical, but I like it when you compliment me. And you should do it more," she prompts him. "Because you're good at it and I like hearing it. This whole thing where I've gotta grind my butt on you to get your attention-- I mean, just lead with 'damn girl, you're looking thicc'. Brag on me to your buddies. Tell girls to step off 'cause your girlfriend's hotter than they are. Problem solved, right? I don't even have to ask and you don't have to do anything but restate the obvious." She shrugs as if she's landed on logically unassailable ground.

Her ice cream's finished and Janet leans waaaay backwards to toss it behind her into a trash can, then curls into Steve's side again. She slides a hand back and interlaces her hand with his, then rests his palm on her ribcage and leans closer with a brimming contentment.

Captain America has posed:
Steve does wonder to himself, what in the hell is thicc? Another foray to The Google this evening will assuage his curiosity, no doubt. Still, he can find an easy ground as well:

"I'll be sure to let any other women know I'm taken and if anyone asks, I'll spin a few words to make you shine." In other words, he won't overtly brag, but inquiries will be met with a smile far too pleased and an idly clever comment about the Wasp. He moves his arm away to let Janet stretch to dispose of her trash and then aimiably allows its placement yet again. It's a bit warm to have her nuzzled so close, but the Captain's not about to complain. He's got the last third of his ice cream to finish and it's cooling. The dessert disappears in neat licks and bites until the cone itself is gone as well. Sticky fingers are cleaned as best he can in a one-handed crumpling of the napkin and then, he leans back into the bench and sighs. It appears, for now, that the discussion has meandered back to calm waters.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Feel free to lead her on a bit," Janet beams up at Steve. "Make her think she's got a shot until you start dropping my name."

She cuddles with Steve until it does become too warm to hug him. Steve is basically a walking furnace, thanks to that superhuman metabolism. She flaps out the collar of her shirt a few times to cool down and then gets to her feet, holding hands to Steve to help him up as well. "C'mon, I think I do wanna head home and tan for a bit. I don't want to get a gross farmer's tan."

She slips her hand into his and they walk along, the petite fashionista leaning against the buff blonde soldier. "Hey listen, I uh...I know things have been a little crazy for us lately, but ummm..." she bites her pressed lips, looks up at Steve. "I was thinking maybe of making some room for you. At my place. Like, uh... cleaning out a drawer," she offers.

Captain America has posed:
"Gross farmer's tan," Steve echoes with a quiet laugh, but he does rise and fall into place beside her. His pace is easy and he keeps his unclaimed hand in the pocket of his board shorts. He's put his sunglasses back on once more and the world reflects back in hues of lensed colors upon the silvered material. when Janet speaks up again, he glances down to her. The initial phrasing of her thought is enough to make his steps slow but not stop, as if more energy were required for processing than putting one foot before the other.

"Cleaning out a drawer. For what?" The Captain's at least honest with not being completely certain of the meaning of the offer.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"For you," Janet tells Steve. She squints up at the lack of response. "Your things? So you can leave some stuff at my penthouse in case you forget a duffel bag or sleep over unexpectedly?"

"Did you not--" She exhales, palming her forehead. "Right. No. Of course you didn't. God, this is not a conversation I expected to ever have," she mumbles.

Fingers wrap around Steve's bicep again. "This is, uh... kind of that intermediate step between 'we're going out' and 'moving in together'," she says. Her neck flushes dark again and she rolls a shoulder uncomfortably. It's clear she's a little conflicted about that level of committment. "You know. You have a little space to keep your stuff. And you'd have a key to my place so you can let yourself in anytime you want. And, if... you know, you trusted me in your place, and you were okay with me being over more often, you could give *me* a little space for me to keep, y'know. Spare cosmetics, or clean clothes. That kind of thing."

She holds her breath a few steps, unaware that she's doing so.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's ears go deeper pink upon realizing he's missed understanding something important -- important enough to merit an echoing coloring of Janet in turn. He continues walking, but it's more of an automatic forwards motion; not quite the same intensity of separated mind and body as humping through the spring-melt forests of Germany with gear on his back on the way to deal another blow to HYDRA, but close enough.

There's a portion of the boardwalk where the shadow of a built carnival stand falls across and it's into this he steps, momentarily diverting them from the flow of pedestrian traffic. Steve keeps his fingers of one hand interlaced with hers as he lifts his sunglasses up to rest on his flaxen hair.

"Dunno that I'll ever forget a duffel 'nd you know I'm pretty easy-going about wearing things more'n once, but...seems like an idea. Same with the keys. Here's the thing though." He gives Janet a level look. "I need my privacy as much as you do. 'm never really at the apartment, not that often, and when I am, I need the quiet. To be alone. Do you understand this?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's already starting to bounce and wriggle happily, so Steve's rejoinder comes as a little splash of water to the face. "Oh. Oh! Yeah, of course," she tells Steve. "I mean, you know, text me, lemme know if you're coming over-- though my house AI will tell me if you come by anyway," she allows. "You never know, I might be partying with Gisele and the girls and we move the whole orgy back to my penthouse. You wouldn't wanna walk into the middle of that."

"...they'd eat you alive," she mumbles, under her voice. Mostly.

Captain America has posed:
Janet might catch the subtle tension that fills Steve's frame. It echoes down into the braiding of fingers in a small twitch as he immediately checks his personal strength -- no need to accidentally crunch delicate bones. Given his sunglasses grant him no masking, he tries schooling his face into something impassive and interested, as if she'd mentioned something no more interesting than the price of a gallon of milk (spoiler: THE PRICE OF MILK IS A TRAVESTY IN HIS MIND, PEOPLE ARE NUTS).

"Am I ever going to walk into an orgy that you're a part of?"

The question drops like a lead balloon into their space.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet glances up at Steve, catching the edge to his voice, and she looks-- of all things, a little /embarassed/. They walk on, and once Janet's sure no one's around, she shakes her head minutely. "No, I... that seems pretty unlikely, honey," she tells Steve with a laugh. "I'm kidding. Mostly." She glances up at him and then laughs and squeezes his forearm. "I'm /kidding/," she repeats, and this time stresses the word reassuringly.

"I went through a pretty, uh, hedonistic phase after my divorce," she admits. "I'm not saying 'Led Zeppelin Party Bus', just ... well."

She frowns suddenly. "Wait, why am I on the defensive here? This used to make you blush and stammer like an awkward prom date. What gives?" she asks, poking his rib. How unfair it seems to her!

Captain America has posed:
"I bet you can see the color just fine on my face," the Captain replies. There it is, on his cheeks now. "But 'm not going to dance around the topic, not when it seemed like..." He looks away for a second and then forges on. "'m not the kind of man who can fall into line with a more modern take on a relationship, Janet. I'm not interested in seeing anyone else at the same time. I'm also not interested in your orgies."

Glancing down at her again as they walk, he repeats himself, redder now at the cheeks, stubborn and some part resentful - rueful - exasperated at himself. "I'm not. Won't ever be. Just needed to make it known."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet looks a bit surprised at Steve. Not his position on the issue (like she had to guess, honestly), but rather his quiet insistence and how he pushes forward on a topic previously largely left undiscussed.

She hugs his arm reassuringly as they keep moving forward. "I haven't even looked at Tindr since like... we saw Oklahoma! last winter," she admits, pinking on her cheekbones now. Well before they'd even contemplated dating. "All the DMs, the shoutouts, guys flirting with me at the bars, they all just seemed really... lame," she says, struggling for the words.

She's very quiet then, looking ahead. Her sunglasses guard her face. "I talk a pretty good game Steve, but I'm not sure I could share you with anyone, either. And I don't think there's another man on Earth who could hold a candle to you, so..." She turns and punches him in the tricep, her cheeks a radiant pink, and walks along with her arms folded under her breasts and fighting a losing battle to keep a smile off her face. "There, you happy? You tricked me into being in a committed relationship. You are ruining my self-image as a bohemian party girl, tied down to nothing or no one."

Captain America has posed:
The good news immediately is that Steve doesn't shake her from his arm. Instead, he forces his hackles down and makes himself listen, even if his teeth are still on edge.

Janet looking down the boardwalk as they walk means she misses the absolutely //smug// double-dimpling -- take that, gents, you're all REALLY LAME. It's a flash, like sunlight on water, and the Captain schools his expression to a restrained neurality again. His heart does a triple-tap-time dance in his chest despite this.

The punch to his tricep is quaint and when his arm is released, he slips both hands into the pockets of his board shorts again. "Pretty sure you ruined that image for yourself when you bounced off the door frame of the mansion's back door," the Captain quips lightly, bringing back the memory of their tension-laden parting in the dead of night that surely JARVIS has somewhere in recorded memory.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh you /dick/," Janet breaths, and turns to shove Steve. It's got all the force of a butterfly slamming into a retriever walking down the road, even with her feet set. She grins up at him with a fierce amusement, unable to hide her laugh. "God I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. I had a bruise for like, three days. It was your fault, you know," she says, skip-stepping along as best she can in heels to walk and look at Steve's face. "I was just so shocked that you were such an amateur kisser. I was expecting better," she shoots back, and then nimbly dances out of easy arm's reach.

Captain America has posed:
A scoff from the blond man is accompanied a lift of his brow. "Oh, 's that so? Maybe I wanted to let you down easy 'nd then come back swinging later so you'd be properly boggled, miss van Dyne." He laughs and keeps walking, not falling for her bait of 'dance like a butterfly, sting like a bee' distancing.

"Besides, you think I'll forget anything you do?" The subtle emphasis on 'anything', accompanied by a small cheeky smile, is aimed at the fashionista.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet bounces back into Steve's proximity and latches her arms around his neck, almost free swinging from him for a moment before she hauls herself up and kisses him rather thoroughly. Easier to scale Mt. Pectoral than to try and haul Steve down to her level, sometimes, and she drops loose two strides later as they near his bike.

"Well, Captain Rogers, you've certainly lived up to keeping me boggled," Janet says, and moves to straddle Steve's bike. Hands rest on the handlebars and she arches her back just a little unnecessarily, hips rolling out as she perches on the bike. "How about you hop on the bike and we'll go back to my place, and then I'll *really* give you something to remember?"

She tries to push the bike off the kickstand, but succeeds in making it just wobble and scrape against the asphalt. A stylish wedge heel strikes at the kickstand but she doesn't have the leverage or strength to move the heavy old Harley.

"Steve, help," she sighs heavily. So much for looking like a badass.

Captain America has posed:
Boggled in return -- touche. Steve blinks almost dazedly, his smile crooked, as he fixes the fall of his equally crooked shirt and his sunglasses back onto his face rather than hanging by one ear.

"Sounds like a plan, <<seilean>>." His voice floats over on the approach, what with the man not wishing to project overly loud. He smiles at his passenger as he places an easy hand on the handbars of the bike. "Get your helmet on and we'll hit the road." Once the helmet is indeed on the Wasp's head, Steve pulls on his own (no need to be pulled over, especially with their reputations at risk of tarnish), and he straddles the bike once Janet is riding pillion. The bike comes to life with a warm rumbling of the motor.

"You comfortable, shortcakes?" Steve asks after he flips up the helmet's visor and looks back over his shoulder, speaking up over the engine.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet wears the helmet because Steve told her to. Her trust in him's pretty implicit-- after all, she's on a motorcycle in shortshorts and a lightweight top. Then again, even if Steve wrecked hard, odds are good the nimble Wasp would buzz her way to safety easily enough.

"I'm fine! Would you hit it already, soldier boy?" she says, wrapping hands around his belly for stability. She grins up at him from inside her designer helmet, cheeks bunched up by the padding. "I trust you to take care of me."

Captain America has posed:
A firm nod from Steve allows sunlight to gloss over the helmet and then he's turning back forwards in his seat. The visor's flicked down again and he revs the engine a few times...certainly not to just make noise or anything. A mindful backing up of the bike a few splayed steps lets him turn it and move it out into traffic.

A glance over his shoulder and a break in traffic and...

//VROOM// -- the bike peels out and up the street with a sudden kick, enough to make the Captain laugh in his helmet. Janet will hear it, what with the inter-helmet comms live.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Aieeeee!" It's a high pitched squeal of surprise as Steve pops the clutch and the bike arrows forward. Only his weight over the handlebars keeps it from flying along on the rear wheel but the acceleration is absolutely shocking.

When the front tire comes down on the shocks again, though, Janet's laughing with absolute thrilled delight, a sound that continues as they shoot across Midtown and head back into the bustling metropolis of New York.