7634/Feel the Rhythm and the Beat

Feel the Rhythm and the Beat
Date of Scene:	26 May 2019
Location:	Janet's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Nothing like a little music to soothe the weary soul.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

---

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet van Dyne usually keeps her door to her Avenger's Mansion suite closed and latched. But one of the few people with unrestricted access to her room is Steve Rogers, and she's made it clear he's welcome anytime.

Still Steve's the sort of conscientious person who knocks before admitting himself. And Janet's the sort who answers her door when she can, or throws things at it to ward people away. So when she doesn't immediately respond, Steve opens the door a crack, and is treated to a sight: Janet playing the drums.

They're electronic drums, of course, so the only sound is the clatter of drumsticks hitting hard plastic. She's jamming out with a foot slapping the heavy footpedal and her head bobbing back and forth. In a cami top and shorts, one might to be shocked to see her *barefoot*, of all things. A crime against fashion!

She shifts off a steady beat and goes through a blistering drum solo, her wireless black headphones bobbing up and down. When it doesn't quite sound as good as she'd prefer, she tries it again, this time with a frown of deliberation

Captain America has posed:
It's a charming sight to greet him when Steve does open the door in his usual polite caution. He straightens from his slight secretive stoop and pauses to watch her, not stepping through just yet. Some of the melancholy melts from his gaze and his lips rise slowly to reveal a glint of white teeth as she works through that drum solo. With a quick roll of his lips against a laugh at an idea popped into being as suddenly as a strike of lightning, he retreats back into the hallway.

Not a minute later, the door to the bedroom slowly opens again and, after being certain she's still deeply involved in her drumming, the Captain side-steps carefully inside. In his hands, a glossy Fender acoustic guitar, vintage sunburst in a warm gradient from sunflower yellow in the center and out to burnt-wood brown. He steals a chair and sits down in it, juuuusssst within her peripheral vision the next time she turns her head towards the right cymbal, and begins plucking out a tune to whatever beat she's ratta-tat-tatting out on the drum set.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet glances over only when she sees movement in the corner of her eye and then startles. "Jeeeeesus," she hisses, and lays her palms across the instrument in front of her. "Steve if you're gonna surprise me, I told you, do it while a lot more naked."

She pushes her headphone back from her ear and glances at the Fender guitar, then gives Steve a look of askance. "You can't play the guitar," she informs him, warily. "You told me you could sing and do the harmonica thing." She pantomimes playing a harmonica. "Where did you even *get* that Fender?" she asks, a little enviously. It's a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship, that's for sure.

Captain America has posed:
Steve just gives the fashionista a charming little smile, the one that always appears so slowly on his face like the rise of a sun, and is always accompanied by double dimples. It was worth it to startle her, he admits to his juvenile streak normally buried underneath tectonic layers of responsibility.

His fingers had paused when she'd started, but then, with a smugness nearly palpable, he begins plucking out the refrain to 'Rock You Like a Hurricane' by the Scorpions, one lazy and confident chord change at a time, as if he were in no hurry in the world to showcase that he can play something beyond the harmonica.

"Must've skipped my mind when you asked," he replies. "Picked it up not too long after I woke up again. Good way to pass the time and keep my fingers limber. Didn't know you played the drums." His eyebrows flick as he glances up at her from his fingers moving on the frets.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Must have skipped your mind with the brain freeze," Janet retorts. Damnit woman, stop staring at those dimples. A flush crawls across her neck and collarbone, but she forces a haughty chin upwards in defiance of biology and lizard brain alike.

She listens to the opening riffs, then her head starts bobbing and there's a reedy *tap* *tap* from her bass drum pedal.

"Hang on, stupid... piece of..." Janet scrambles around, unplugging her headphones and plugging the drums back into the speakers. She clacks her drumsticks twice then nods at Steve to go.

After the second lick she starts hitting the bass again. This time, it hammers with a BOOM, BOOM, thudding like a heartbeat in time with the music. She picks up the drum riffe, thudda-budda*psh*, and then she's playing a steady rhythm while Steve launches into the first measure.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain pauses on the acoustic guitar at the sudden frenetic motions of Janet and the drums needing to be shifted from headphones to proper wiring for true sound. His smile, having briefly disappeared, begins to show once more and with a markedly accurate nod of his head in time to the rhythm, he begins strumming out the opening chords to 'Rock You Like a Hurricane'.

Of course, the guitar itself is not plugged in to any amp, and as such, the very second the bass drum launches into being, he's overwhelmed. Steve continues on with a little grimace for a while, but eventually starts laughing, his nose wrinkled. "Janet. Janet! Hold up, lemme go get the other one."

Other one what?

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Other one? What?"

Janet blinks and tugs her headphones off around her neck, and hangs them from a hook. "The what? Steve?"

"If there's a Steve clone in your bedroom, I just want you to know I'm totally OK with that situation!" she adds, yelling after him for no other reason that to teach him a lesson about leaving on a vague note!

She nods to herself and rat-tat-tats on her timpani. That'll learn him, by gosh.

"Janet and the Steves," she muses. "I could use a couple of groupies."

She bangs out a quick rimshot- ba-dum TSH.

Captain America has posed:
The hang of his quiet laughter is left in the room after Steve rises to his feet and takes the acoustic guitar with him. It's not but another minute or two before he returns again, toeing open her door that he left open a sliver.

Oh no, that's no acoustic guitar. Nope. That is an electric Fender now, suave and sweet and smooth to the touch. The same vintage sunburst pattern is upon it, but mimics red maplewood, lushly-rich to the eyes. With cream neck and all strings and chrome gleaming upon it, he walks over and eyes her speakers. Over his shoulder alongside the strap for the guitar, an audio jack.

"Room for one more?" he asks her, that infuriating dimple showing up on one side of his lips again.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet drops a drumstick when Steve walks in, jaw hanging loosely. It clatters against her foot and she dives for it, embarassed. That red frission crawls up her neck and she gets smoothly (quickly) to her feet. It buys her time to get to a drawer of music equipment and root out a 1/4" cord. She gets *entirely* un-necessarily close to Steve, brushing up against him, and makes eye contact as her manicured nails find the output port. The jack is wiggled around the port's circumference, then pushed in with a *click*. And possibly a little noise from Janet almost drowned out by the humming of the speakers.

She walks over to the knee-high amps, rests a palm on the felt cover, and with a wholly un-necessary amount of leaning, bending, and back-arching, plugs the other end of the cord in.

She gets up, past Steve, and almost says something. Then she doesn't, and just wiggles a brow very minutely (and suggestively expressin a number of lewd entendres left unsaid), before walking with a hip-swinging sway back to her drumset to settle on the stool.

"So tell me you know more than just Scorpions," she remarks, finally breaking the tension of silent electronic instruments. She rat-tat-tats on the elctronic pad, a skittering of the drumsticks as if encouraging a cymbal to shudder and whisper.

Captain America has posed:
That is...quite the display from Janet, and it's not lost on Steve, certainly not if the color of the tips of his ears have anything to say about things. He does a few testing strums of the guitar's strings and listens, his eyes downcast and head tilted. A few twists of the tuning keys and a series of chords before he nods to himself.

"Seems like a lot of popular rock songs were examples for lessons. Suppose...let's see." Shifting in place where he stands nearby to the drums, the Captain hums to himself. His socked foot taps four times at a moderate pace.

C minor, one-two-three...B-flat one-two to A, one-two-three...and B-flat one-two to C minor again, one-two-three. And repeat.

It sounds an awful lot like...'All Along the Watch Tower' by Jimi Hendrix.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Hendrix?" Janet eyes Steve with a wary lasciviousness. "When did you get cool, Captain Rogers?"

She picks up the beat easily enough, but the song's a little beyond her ability. Steve's got some surprising talent with a guitar but the song is meant for someone with Hendrix' legendary vocal skills and boozy electric blues influence. She ends up trampling a few of the solo riffs and then shrugs helplessly at Steve when she comes in a full four measures ahead of when she should on the bridge. Drumsticks clatter against plastic and hold, stilling them. "Sorry baby, I don't know that one well," she says with a wistful expression of apology. "I can do some classic rock, I mean, nineties stuff maybe, but if you wanna get into the oldies I'm gonna need to practice more."

Captain America has posed:
Steve fares..really not too much better in the long run. It's apparent that he can make his way through it, but he is no Hendrix in the end. The performance from his half of things is precise, but in a way that lacks the original guitarist's natural sense for flare and vibrato and making the strings wail like a pleased lover.

He lets a chord die out with a pull of fingers down the strings and shifts his weight to one foot again, humming thoughtfully. "Nineties classic rock..." he mutters, glancing to the window and squinting as he thinks.

D minor for a count of two, G for a count of two, and his foot taps a steady four-count beat. 'Come With Me Now' by the KONGOS.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet brightens when she picks up the chords Steve's laying down. It's not a terribly complicated melody, but has a certain wild primacy to it that gets down in the bones. Steve's not playing accordion of course, but the opening licks are familiar enough. She starts stomping on the bass with a fast rhythm, drumsticks banging a simple rhythm on the snare and timpani. Her head bobs in time with the motion of her foot as they get to the first chorus, and she hammers a beat before holding the drums abruptly still.

Simultaneously she leans towards Steve at the hold, and sings/screams: "COME WITH ME NOW!"

Janet breaks into laughter and goes back to the pounding bass beat, the lines of muscle in her calf flexing with the motion as she leans over the drums and keeps a steady rhythm for Steve's guitar performance.

Captain America has posed:
It's been a nice little ditty to practice in the quiet of his room for Steve, but with the presence of the drumset beneath it, it becomes a thing of complexity and fullness. He grins at the scream-shout into the silence at the break and then picks up the chorus again with a more aggressive strumming of the guitar's strings now.

His fingers wander up through the higher notes that linger almost flute-like until the Captain reaches what constitutes the solo nearing the middle of the song. Then, they lazily glide through the riffs as he bites his bottom lip in concentration. His gaze downcast glitters as he hits the main chord again with a marked flare of flicked wrist and jounce of body in place.

His next glance over at Janet twinkles like his grin as he continues strumming, the instrument ringing in his hands.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
They approach the last measure and Janet continues hammering the drumset. She's not the most technically proficient drummer in the world but it looks like she's having a ton of fun, face screwed up in a grin of delight as they get into the meat of the song.

The volume rises into a forte as they come crashing into the last measure, Janet signalling with her shoulders to indicate the stop-- one, two, four-- both instruments go silent at once, and the refrain is shouted again, this time prompting Steve to join: "Come with me now!"

Janet *thuds* the bass one last time to end the song and breaks into pealing giggles, an expression of unfettered delight. "Oh my god! That was so fun! I haven't actually like, played with someone in so fricking LONG!" she exclaims. "And lookit you, bad boy with a sexy electric guitar," she tells Steve, eyes fluttering. "You know that instrument's meant to be played without a shirt on, right?" she asks, wiggling a drumstick at him like an admonishing index finger.

Captain America has posed:
Steve does indeed join in that last refrain, though not as loudly as the drummerette and relatively on-pitch. The strings ring to silence as he settles back onto his heels, his stance markedly more relaxed than seen over a period of days now.

A laugh slips from deep in his chest as he glances down at the guitar and back up at Janet. "Nobody told me that playing it shirtless was a requirement. Figured I played it just fine with a shirt on just now." Indeed, it's a nicely fitted charcoal-grey t-shirt to go with his blue jeans.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet sticks her tongue out at Steve's endless practicality. "Think about it, every touring rock band ever has the lead guitar playing without a shirt on." She sighs winsomely at the mental image and leans back on her stool, her feet hooked into the rungs under her for balance.

"Sounds as if we're gonna have to spend some more time practicing," she suggests to Steve. "I don't even know what kind of music you wanna do. Oldies? I mean, I love me some Scorpions, but when did you even sit down and listen to them? I could see you going for Big Band or modern prog-rock, but oldies are ... I'unno. Unexpected."

Captain America has posed:
Steve's thumb strums the strings now in idle progressive chords. He's not actively thinking about any song in particular, but somehow, the shift through each collection of notes makes some musical sense when strung altogether.

"I've got no real preference. The music I grew up listening to is no good on instruments like these," and he lifts the neck of the Fender guitar to indicate it as well as point towards the drums with it. "Or hard to translate. Big Band, you'd call it. Blues and jazz, but not the modern take on either. I didn't sit down and listen to the Scorpions, or any of the others. The songs I know are popular to learn on the guitar." He gives a guileless shrug.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Yeah, there's nothing like a power chord and a synthesizer," Janet agrees, wistfully. "Doesn't exactly lend itself to BB King, but when you wanna make the rafters shake you aren't gonna do it with an acoustic guitar and someone whipsering on a timpani."

"You're full of suprises, Steven," Janet tells him with a wry and appreciative smile. She unplugs her drumset, killing the quiet reverb of electronics humming in readiness. "We'll have to practice some more. Heck, let's see if anyone else wants to play," she suggests. "I bet even Thor could jump in. Play the, uh--" she mimes clanging something in the air. "Triangle, or whatever. You can all be in my band! We'll call it 'The Wasp and her Bees'," she says, painting a banner overhead with a sweep of her palm.

Captain America has posed:
"It's a charming thought, but there's no time to form a band." Steve smiles, knowing he's being ridiculously pragmatic now. "Somebody's gotta keep half an eye on this city and it can't just be me." He continues brushing his fingerpad down the strings, working through chords now from muscle memory. His eyes rest easily on Janet.

"I think you picked the triangle because it's about the smallest and most delicate instrument in that man's hands. Might've said piccolo otherwise. I know T'Challa plays the drums too, but a kind from his homeland. He'd show off, 'm sure, but he left for Wakanda again. He was needed." While Steve might miss the soft-spoken monarch, he has a deep, abiding respect for the loyalty to his subjects and his nation. "Dunno what anybody else plays. If I had to hazard, Tony //might// play the piano...? Seems like something his parents might've made him do."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"God, can you even imagine? Tony, sitting there---" she makes piano playing gestures. "I don't think I remember anything from piano lessons. Daddy made me play until I was like... twelve or something," she says, trying to remember. "It's one of those things you do in polite society, so you can show up to fancy cocktail parties and wow everyone with your social acumen and your urbanity."

She starts putting away her drumset, which tucks into a surprisingly compact little storage kit built into the base. Once it's done she hefts the whole thing with a grunt and staggers over to push it under her bed, where it nests with a number of clear crates sporting labels like 'summer pink bedding' and 'spare art supplies'.

She leaves the heavy speakers out for Steve to play with, though, and lays across her bed on her belly to prop her chin on her palms and watch him play with a dreamy expression. "Hey, can I talk to you about the whole... Thor situation? I'm getting kind of a weird vibe and I don't know if it's just me being protective or if like, there's something going on."

Captain America has posed:
"You could show me sometime, if you'd like." It's a quiet offer from Steve as he meanders over to a nearby chair and sits down in it. The electrical guitar continues to release little rills of notes and after a while, it might become apparent that the Captain's quietly picking out a folk song. This one he's known since childhood and while it's better suited for an acoustic instrument, the Fender gives it a jaunty zip. He stretches out one leg and gives Janet an interested lift of brows.

"Got something on your mind about it? Talk me through it. Might come to a conclusion as you do so," he notes, his intelligent blue eyes resting upon her.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet makes claws from her hands and indents the bedding in front of her, four times. "There, that's all the chording I know for the piano. Consider yourself impressed and a little seduced," she informs Steve.

This has no bearing on the scattered pink on her neck as Steve serenades her with the twangy, near-still electric, and it takes Janet a few seconds to get her train of thought in gear. "I don't think Thor's happy," she says, finally. "I don't know of any nice way to put it. I think he's fuckin' miserable, frankly. Elissandra's pretty, and very friendly, and she has that sort of... you know, Asgardian sort of wholesomeness. Even if she's a birb-person," she allows of the Shi'ar woman. "But she's rearranging the Throne room without asking him. Holding court when he's not there. I /get/ it, she's gonna be his queen, that's sort of queen stuff, but I just... I don't know. I'm worried about the big guy and I think he's gonna end up, best case, very very miserable. My urge to meddle ... is rising."

Captain America has posed:
Steve pulls his lips to one side and tucks his chin in that way of his where he's trying not to overtly smile. Still...Janet's little sarcastic funning at the four chords necessary to carry through most tunes have his eyes twinkling. The twinkling fades as he listens. His expression grows solemn and, eventually, mildly concerned. A shadow of guilt washes through him and the picking at the strings can be heard to slow, as if thinking this hard and playing the instrument were difficult to do at the same time.

"Sounds like she's acting as if she's already been crowned. It's unfortunate behavior...probably looks bad to the folks in court. Somebody else keeping an eye on her?" A little pause. "Wonder if his brother might be keeping half an eye on her."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Loki? That bag of weasles?" Janet snorts at Steve. "I don't trust him, and I don't care what Thor says. He's like, a million years old. Spots don't change like that," she says. "I mean you're only like, two hundred years old, and /I/ can't get you to stop wearing combat boots everywhere. Even with the nice new dress shoes I bought you," she says, and rolls onto her back so her head's hanging off the bed. She stares at Steve upside down, frowns. "Anyway. I'unno. You and Thor, your bros. Homeboys. Y'all's tight," she says, and thumps a petite fist against her left breast twice. "Maybe you can get a beer or ten in him and see if he'll open up a bit. I really hate the idea of showing up to a couple dozen royal birthdays with our names on a cheap gift and nothing but forced smiles for the unhappy couple."

Her hands draw a box in the air, applying a word to each vertice she describes. "Awkward. As. Fuck."

Captain America has posed:
"<<Language>>." Surely the tone from the Captain is enough for Janet to catch the implication of the Gaelic word despite it not being her native tongue. He's not nearly as remonstrative as other members of the team might receive, more reminding than anything else. "'nd besides, I'm a hundred and nine, not two hundred years old. If you think drinking with him will get him to open up, sure, might as well try it. 'm not going to get prying at him. If the man doesn't want to talk about it, not gonna make him."

steve strums the guitar again and begins plucking out something winsome.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Well, I'm not gonna drink with him. Last time that happened I woke up on Asgard half na-- you know, that's not important," Janet says, biting off that train of thought and waving the rest of it away. "Point is, you two can talk it out and get things sorted."

She looks at her nails with a critical frown then rolls to her belly and shifts to a kneeling position on the bedspread, sitting back on her feet. "Kinda nice seeing that smile, soldier," she tells him. Her expression's shifted to something fond and happy while he was focused on his guitar. "You were a grumpy gus for a few days there. I'm just, like," she sighs expansively, "you know, glad to see that it's clearly my company which is lifting your spirits. I'm good at that."

"And you're welcome, by the way. For my magnaminous kindness and good spirits." She presses palms together and looks skywards with an expression of piety.

Captain America has posed:
"I'll see about catching him next time he passes through," confirms the Captain with a nod of his head. The tune continues wending on, melancholy and calm rather than being outright depressingly-sad. It sounds like it might be speaking to past memories or a place beyond reach of whomever wrote it.

Steve glances up from the guitar strings for a second at Janet's posturing, but then looks back down at them. He hazards a smile again, but this one involved thought and it's not as committed as before. "I appreciate you being patient with me. For allowing me my space to think. It means a lot to me, Janet." His fingers pause on the silvery strings and he meets and holds her eyes. "Means maybe more than you think."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet smiles back at Steve, resting her palms on her thighs. Her expression turns demure and her gaze flickers away, but her smile widens and elbows lock slowly out into a faux-casual shrug.

"I'm crazy, Steven, not dumb," she reminds him, and lays her palms on the bed between her knees. Slowly she pushes her hips back and stretches with a feline grace, rear wiggling in the air behind her head. "You told me you needed space, and *why* you needed space. I get that. I'd personally rather us be stuck together hot naked and writhing twenty-four/seven, but you know. Love's all about sacrifices," she says with a heavy and forlorn sigh. "I just lay around the penthouse in my cutest nighties waiting for you to get back from doing... whatever it is you're doing. I assume bro stuff. With Bucky. Being... bros."

Captain America has posed:
"...could call it that," Steve finally decides as to the 'bro stuff' -- because it's parts that and parts not AT ALL THAT. Smiling to himself, he gives Janet one last appreciative once-over before his attention falls back to the strings. He begins plucking out another tune again, this one a touch more lively and something that might be heard more commonly on a fiddle.

"Remember that you don't have to wait up for me. You've got a business to run on top of being an Avenger - need your sleep as much as I do. You'll get hooked on coffee if you don't get your eight hours," he chides in light tease.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I don't need sleep," Janet protests. "I need my boyfriend, my wardrobe, and some creature comforts like climate control and my driver and food delivery and when I'm /really/ roughing it, I like to go into town and sit down and eat at an actual restaurant."

"Sleeps' for people who don't run on coke, Red Bull, and adderall, champ. And you don't even /need/ coffee," she objects. "I think you just drink it because you think it makes you look cool."

Captain America has posed:
Janet is greeted with a snort. Steve then resettles himself in the plush chair, pulling the stretched leg up so that his foot rests on the edge of the seat-cusion. It means angling the guitar differently, but he picks up the song yet again, meandering through the unknown piece of music spritely.

"Careful, you'll blow my cover. Drinking coffee helps me blend in with the public." He glances up, his smile completely and utterly self-depricating. "If I didn't, folks would notice how perfect I really am." He shoots a wink and then shakes his head at himself.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
The alluring rolling and beckoning seems to have finally been lost on Steve, and Janet rolls her eyes with a snort at his 'perfect' comment. "Perfectly dense," she mutters, and awkwardly knee-walks off her bed. The petite socialite steps over and touches Steve's chin then leans down and kisses him, warmly and without hurry. "Thank god for that ass," she mutters, feigning a severe tone completely undermined by a fond smile.

Janet settles down on the floor next to Steve's set, sitting on her hip and supporting her chin by resting her forearms on the edge of the chair. She rolls a wrist into her shoulder and supports her head by leaning a cheekbone against her wrist. "You know, I used to think you really are," she says, quietly. "Perfect. I hated it," she says, a beat later. "I spent all that time trying to get you flustered or worked up just to see if there was a chink in that armor. You're a lot more human than I think you let people realize, Steven," she tells him. "I think it's one of your more endearing qualities, personally."

"Your humanity," she clarifies, a beat later. "Not those 'perfect teeth'."

Captain America has posed:
"Hey..." The mild retort slips from him after the 'dense' comment, but he doesn't take it to heart. The kiss to follow makes everything better anyways; no doubt she'll note a modicum of tension leave through his neck, shoulders, and upper back.

His playing skips a beat as she talks. Steve picks up again easily enough, though it's distracted now and his eyes linger on her rather than the placement of his fingers on the neck of the guitar. "Can't help the perfect teeth. Nice to have 'em," he murmurs, letting his thumb drag slowly down the strings, pluck...pluck...pluck...pluck. "Wondered if you were testing for that anyways - everybody does at one point. It's easiest sometimes to play along with the expectations of the public. People want to see a hero, so...they get a hero." Broad shoulders shrug. "Very few folks know Captain America can play music from the Scorpions on an electrical guitar. Those little treats?" He reaches out and boops the end of her pert nose. "I save 'em for the ones who matter."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet crosses her eyes obligingly when booped, then laughs up at him. "Hey, I'm still a person. And a woman, on top of being a hero," Janet reminds Steve. "I'm allowed to be insecure. Poke and meddle and see where the wheels come off for you. Though, the /real/ game was seeing how much seduction it would take before I got you to admit how you felt about me." She grins at Steve, biting her lower lip in appreciation for his playing. "And then just ... from there, just a lot of escalation and teasing until I can figure out what makes you tick. I'll figure it out. Eventually."

She rests her chin in a palm and looks up at Steve, green eyes shining with undisguised adoration. "But meanwhile, keep playing for me. Hey, do you know 'The Gambler'? I've always liked that song."