7769/Why Waste a Sunny Day

Why Waste a Sunny Day
Date of Scene:	07 June 2019
Location:	Steve's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	The only good answer to idle conversation by the pool is clearly throwing someone into the pool without warning.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)

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Captain America has posed:
It is a sunny afternoon in the city of New York. Unseasonably warm for early in June, everyone's out and about and enjoying it. Where's Steve Rogers?

Why, out by the pool, of course. No paparazzi to heckle him, no exhaust in warm air smelling strong in his nose, no crowds out at the beaches or along Coney Island's piers. He's in a white tanktop and black boardshorts slatted diagonally in white lines, swoosh-swoosh, from inseam out to the hems. He's also sprawled out on one of the lawn chairs, belly-down, with an exquisitely content and dozy expression on his face. His chin rested on his crossed forearms shifts so he can rest his cheek on them instead and let out a slow sigh.

"...maybe the pool in a bit," he mumbles to himself as he lazily considers the blue translucency of the water, unblemished and clean.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Hands slide up Steve's neck. They're cold-- clammy, even-- but just for a second. Janet distributes a layer of tanning lotion along the pillared muscles of Steve's neck and starts spreading it over his exposed trapezius muscles and upper arms.

"In a bit," she agrees, soothingly, and settles her miniscule weight to straddle his lower back. There's a *clink* of a beer bottle set next to Steve's elbow. A good stout, nicely chilled. Janet sips from her own lighter fare and returns to applying the sunscreen to Steve's shoulders and arms, more massaging than merely spreading the lotion.

She's in a black bikini, the modesty of the high-waiste briefs undercut by generous removal of fabric over her waist and hips. The top, too, is a ruffled line of black garment that looks not remotely conducive to swimming. But it is very stylish.

She sips her beer from behind large-rimmed black sunglasses, applies more lotion to her hands, and continues applying it to Steve's naked neck and arms.

Captain America has posed:
Underneath her hands, at least at the first pass of lotion-smeared hands, Steve jitters. The contrast in temperatures between the sun's rays and the sunscreen itself is a wee bit shocking. He blows a sigh and reaches for the stout bottle.

"Y'know the serum doesn't let me get a sunburn? Or get tan?" he asks of the fashionista before he sips at the stout. "It heals skin damage. At least it lets me taste things like this. This's good, Janet, thanks for spoiling me." Another deep slug of the stout before he sets it aside again. Even if the sunscreen is ineffective and a very kind thought, there's the aspect of her palms massaging him and that's lovely.

"Need me to get your back though?" the Captain inquires as he looks over his shoulder at her from the corner of his eye.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"What does the sun have to do with anything?" Janet asks plaintively. She leans down and kisses the tip of Steve's ear, still lazily slathering cocoa butter onto his broad shoulders. And taking her time about it, too.

She works it into his shoulders, neck, and upper arms, and only then does she pat his back twice and shift her tiny weight from his hipbones. "Unlike some super-soldiers, I /will/ burn," Janet agrees, and nudges Steve to take his spot on the chair. She lays on her back, though, forearm tucked behind her head, and smiles coyly up at Steve. "And as Dutch as I am, I don't just tan, I *burn*. I'll look like a lobster if I'm not careful."

Captain America has posed:
Before Janet moves, she'll feel the platform of Steve's lower back jounce in silent laughter. "Of course," he mutters good-naturedly, realizing it was all about the hands-on approach from the petite fashionista. Grunting, he sits up and switches places with her.

"You'd be a very cute lobster." The opinion comes alongside some pinking at his ears, of course, because that's one very lascivious splay along the deck chair. Still, standing alongside the chair, he looks at the bottle, back at her, back at the bottle, and finally back at Janet again. "You got your front already or...?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Can't hurt to do twice," Janet says up at Steve with a wholly disingenuous expression that conveys a feline sense of langorous self-indulgence. She wriggles her hips and settles back into the lounge, keeping that arm braced behind her head. Her body language is otherwise an open book.

"And yes, I'd be an /adorable/ lobster. I'm adorable no matter what I do. But keep telling me that, I do love to hear you singing my praises," Janet says with an appreciative sigh.

"I hear Tony's flirting with a new protege?" she asks, changing topics. "That... Spider-Man fellah. Do you know him?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve pinks more -- of course he does, poor guy, doomed with his Irish skin. He tosses the sunscreen to his other hand and laughs, chin tucked. Stooping to snatch up his stout, he glances over at the pool again and back to Janet.

"Here, we'll start with your back, turn over," says he after another deep slug of the beer. Setting the beer down, he then drops to one knee beside the chair. "Turn over," he insists, a funny little smile hovering about his lips.

"And you're talking about Peter Parker, I think, if you're calling him Spider-Man. Yeah, he's a good kid. Wade dropped him off on the back lawn thinking he'd be a good addition to the team. I agreed. Parker's still texting me with apologies about puking up Hot Pockets on the grass. Kid's good people, but...gotta talk to him about how one apology's enough."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Ugh." Janet makes a face but rolls over readily enough, resting her cheekbone on one forearm folded over the other. Feet lazily swing back and forth in the air over her rear, stylish black stiletto pumps aimed skywards. "He seems like a nice kid," Janet allows. "Young, though, I mean, from the security footage. What is he, like nineteen or whatever?" she inquires. She looks back at Steve. "You think he's got the chops?"

Captain America has posed:
When she glances back at Steve, he's rubbing his hands together as if warming the sunscreen before he intends to apply it to her skin. He appears thoughtful and thinks quietly for a moment.

"I'd say so. Kid's from Queens -- and if he can tangle with Wade, he's got a pair. Either that, or a saintly amount of tolerance for the man. Not sure which yet. He's got some strength to him, physically. He's bendy, he can stick a triple backflip from a stand without stumbling. Got webbing. Watched the news footage on him, he seems like he means well. Plus, Tony's fielding him. Figure he's in good hands if Tony's fielding him.

Steve pauses and looks over at the pool again and back at Janet. "Y'know, I learned recently that the light refraction in the pool means you don't burn as quickly underwater."

And with that, he scoops up the petite fasionista against his body. With arms across her ribs and stomach, he then takes one-two-three lunging steps and launches himself into the water, landing back first!

Ka-PLOOSH!!!

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet makes a sound like *hurk* as she's hefted onto Steve's hip, and flails reflexively. Hands grip his wrists but she'd have as much luck bending rebar as trying to break his grasp. "Steve, what are you-- nononONOOOOO!" she squeals, and then they're going into the water and Janet's reaching for the sky as Steve hauls her backwards into the pool.

She kicks loose and surges through the water's surface, spluttering and wiping it from her eyes. Her pixie-cut brown hair's clinging to her skull. "You rat!" she protests, with an utter lack of venom, and splashes water at Steve. "Now lookit me, I'm all soaking wet." She rests her hands on her waist and scowls theatrically.

Captain America has posed:
Steve emerges a few strokes away as if the space would save him from her ire. Laughing, he pops up and slicks back his hair from his face, bright like golden ink.

"To my total deteriment," he shoots back, grinning with those disarming dimples. "You're too hot, Janet van Dyne. Had to cool you down a bit." And the rat? He swats water towards her off the surface of the pool in a twinkling spray of droplets. His tanktop floats loose from his skin now and he barely treads bottom with his toes where he's at.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's not a great swimmer, so she starts awkwardly wading towards Steve. "I /know/ I'm hot," she agrees, testily. "Throwing me in the water is just ... not fair," she counters, and uplifts her chin at Steve with a haughty derision. She's in over her head (literally) and her shoes scrape the bottom of the pool. Janet's arms flail, she kicks twice, and swims over to hook her arms around Steve's neck to cling to him as if being carried fireman-style.

"Hang on, I've gotta toss these out of the water." She keeps one arm looped around Steve's neck, then removes her shoes and holds them aloft to drain dry. "Here, walk me over to the poolside, I need to dry these off," she commands him.

Captain America has posed:
By Steve's expression as he watches her swim over as she does, it's well worth having taken her into the water with him. So worth it. His smile is still unrepentant as he scoops her up easily in one arm. A few strokes and some strong kicks and there we are, at the side of the pool. With a hand beneath her rump, he lifts her up out of the water one-armed and deposits her on the sun-warmed edge where decorative tile meets gritted, friction-reasoned surface.

He lingers at the poolside though, resting his chin on folded arms on the tile, and lazily kicks in the water. "It's not fair how hot you are," says he, giving her an innocent look with those baby-blues -- so innocent -- absolutely just lamb-like innocence -- ruined by the twinkle in them.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet perches poolside, which is by far her natural habitat. Near the water, but never in it! At least she's got waterproof mascara on. Her shoes are quickly dried and set under the shade of the lounge chair to protect them from the sun and she's back to relaxed sitting, feet dangling in the water and arms locked out behind her for support. She doesn't have the raw athleticism of some of the other Avengers, but she's certainly fit enough, and the two-piece bikini puts her hard-earned feminine physique on display.

Lips curl at Steve's compliment/banter, and she suppresses a grin by tossing her head and looking skywards for a few seconds. The effort to subue her emotions fails, and she's grinning down at Steve from behind those oversized sunglasses. "Then you should count yourself lucky I'm all yours, Cap," she teases him back. A foot lifts incrementally and she tickles his ribs under his arm. "And you're welcome. I don't mind at all when you gaze on my, " she takes a langorous breath, "*divine* appearance. And compliment me. As long as you're touching me when you do it."

Captain America has posed:
Tickling -- a weakness! Steve huffs and jerks away from the wriggling toes, sloshing down about a foot or two along the poolside. He can still touch toes to the pool's bottom and pushes back from the side.

"Figure gazing on your refined form is lucky enough," he replies, smirking. Fingers slip beneath the water and then he's shucking the tanktop. In a lassoed swirling of flung water, he dries it substantially before wadding it up into a ball. A flick of his wrist as if he might shoot a basketball through a hoop and the wad of wet fabric lands nearby the lounge chair. Close enough, especially when it didn't knock over his beer. Oh, right, beer.

"Mind grabbing our drinks?" he asks as he swims over, blissfully shirtless and comfortable in the water.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet eyes Steve's smirk, as if gauging his level of snark versus sincerity. She concludes her analysis by splashing at him again, a lazy and badly aimed flick of water. "Baby, you can do anything you want to my 'refined form'," Janet says, and blows a kiss at Steve.

She glances over her shoulder and gets to her feet to retrieve the drinks. The stout's brought over to Steve and handed to him, then she settles back onto the edge of the pool and dips her manicured toes in the water again. "Kind of nice having the pool to ourselves," she says, looking around. "Or having it at all. This is so much nicer than the tidal pool at my penthouse," she admits, enviously. "The Homeowner's Association vetoed my deck expansion when I wanted to add it. Stupid Trudy Beekman," she growls into her pale ale.

Captain America has posed:
Pink ears are still pink. The stout is taken once Steve swims back to the poolside and he sips deeply at before setting it aside. He takes up his previous recline upon the tile and glances over at Janet.

"That's a shame. How's a tidal pool supposed to look? Did you go the whole nine yards? Starfish? Crabs? Probably should go with hermit crabs, the big ones with the black pinchers will come after you. Learned this turning rocks over by the piers at Coney when I was younger." Yes, that's still the overly-innocent expression on his face.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Wow." Janet just shakes her head, then takes a sip from her beer to stall for a theatrical second. "No, it's one of those pools that has motion engines built into it. It can simulate a tide or even flowing water," she clarifies. "So it's like swimming against a river. It's good for water aerobics and swimming therapy. New York real-estate being what it is, an Olympic sized swimming pool on my deck would cost me more than a factory on the edge of Hoboken," she says wryly. "And I'm already not using my yacht enough. I figure it's safer to just fly out to the marina and putter down to the Keys for a couple days if I really need some sun and surf. And not saltwater crustaceans that stink like the Hudson," she adds, with a swiftly upraised finger.

Captain America has posed:
Steve laughs. "You've never smelled the docks in summer over in Brooklyn. Think you've smelled something bad, well... Let's just not revisit that memory. Or visit the docks during the summer."

Legs churn back and forth beneath the surface, wafting it up in small swells of movement. "That kind of pool sounds like a real good idea though. Quiet, private, could swim in it for hours and get a proper workout... Figure you might start seeing me at 5am every Tuesday and Thursday to borrow it. That way, I can get a workout in before heading in to the Triskelion. Easier to sit through the meetings without restless legs."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet cocks her head a marginal degree at Steve's words, and slowly lays on her side on the smooth poolside tile. Her elbow and palm prop up her head, and she smiles at something Steve says as he treads water in front of her. "Well, now that's entirely a different proposition," Janet murmurs, and laughs merrily. "I compromised and got a hot tub, but if you think you could use a place to go swimming, I'll happily pitch it at the Board again. Maybe offer to strip and resurface the exterior of the building as a compromise," she says with an idle consideration. "As long as I get to watch you work out. That'd be money well spent."

She rolls onto her back and stretches, lifting her hips in a bridge that is in line with her thighs and spine. "I mean, aside from god-awful hours like 'five AM'," she remarks, sourly, and lands on her back with a wet splash of pool water. "I don't know what's worse, waking up and finding that you've gone to work, or waking up *until* you go to work. I don't even show up at the office before ten."

Captain America has posed:
"It'll be 5am on the dot, Shortcakes." The Captain does seem at least partially rueful as he shrugs, still treading water alongside the pool's wall. He kills the rest of the stout and licks his lips, reading the bottle. "I'll have to look for this again..."

Then, a dip beneath the water and he emerges. Pufting water from his lips, he palms back his hair again and swims over to haul himself up on his forearms beside Janet.

"I'll turn you into an early bird yet, just you watch. Think about it. Coffee and a swim. What's a better way to wake up than that before going in to work?"

No wonder Barnes complains about the bumblebee of a man.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet just slowly rolls her head to the side, holding that bridged posture. It's an alluring position, emphasizing the trim of her tummy and the subtle athleticism of her curvy hips.

Just for dramatic effect, she reaches to her glasses and flips them up onto her forehead so her green eyes meet Steve's with a steady examination. She just stares, and then lifts a brow pointedly.

"Do I have to say it out loud?" she inquires of him, finally. Her tone suggest he's missing a Very Obvious suggestion implied in her question. Lips curl into a smile and she settles her hips on the poolside and rolls to face Steve again, face near where he's treading water, and props her head on her elbow and palm again.

Captain America has posed:
"Janet, <<seillean>>." The Captain finds words after a few seconds of feeling heat touch his cheeks that has nothing to do with the warmth of the sun falling around them.

"You don't need to say a thing. Everything else about you just did." He laughs under his breath and looks to one side. "Can't necessarily disagree. But you asked about the Parker boy earlier." His true-blues flick back to her again. "You seen any footage on him? What're your thoughts? I expect Tony'll make him a probationary member for now. You can't go scaring him off." He lifts his eyebrows at the petite fashionista, known to have sting suitable to her monicker, in gentle tease.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Mm. You're getting better at reading those cues," Janet praises Steve, and reaches over to pat his cheek. "I didn't even have to strip naked and throw myself at you that time."

She reaches to her backside as if looking for a phone and scowls over at the mansion, presumably where she left it. "I won't scare him off. I've seen him in action, he's quick. Kind of a talker," Janet allows, nose wrinkling. "Looks pretty strong too. He's just so *skinny*. I want to get him a sandwich and a glass of milk. *Me*," she protests, pointing at herself. "That's me saying that."

Captain America has posed:
Her comments are enough to make Steve laugh. It's been some time since he really laughed, from his belly, and the sound rings out before he catches himself and sighs.

"Just reminds me of every time Colonel Phillips made a comment like that before the serum happened. 'Get this gerbil a sandwich'," he says, mimicking the man's gruff voice and stern frown. The attempt is a bit ruined when one realizes how his flaxen hair is duck-tailed behind one ear. "I think the kid'll pan out. Call it a gut instinct."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I trust you," Janet assures Steve. She shifts to a sitting position in front of him, legs loosely folded under her, and rests her forearms on her knees in a lazy slouch. "And Tony's got good instincts. I mean, where other guys are concerned. If it's in a skirt, forget it," she says, a hand flickering sideways through the air. She reaches over and gently runs her fingers through Steve's hair, testing the curl and length between thumb and forefinger.

"Heh. Gerbil," she snickers. "I always forget how skinny you used to be. I can't even imagine it anymore, it's just so... weird."

Captain America has posed:
Steve lingers in his forearm'd perch upon the pool's edge to allow the grooming. He reaches out and rests a palm on her bare foot in fond reciprocation. His smile which had sparked in wry humor at the comment about Tony dims a touch in memory.

"That was a tough run, being that unhealthy. Times didn't help. It was definitely a change, finding out that the blisters from my boots healed up overnight and I could run ten miles without having to pause and pray for my throat to open up. That, and being able to pile-drive a tank without doing much more than having a sore shoulder. That was an experience." His eyes, slid off to one side as the memory played out before him, flick back to Janet again. "Maybe the kid'll put on some muscle. If not, it's no detriment to him. Kid's from Queens. He'll hold his own." Steve grins.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Ugh. And here I was all set to like him," Janet says in response to the 'Queens' comment. That ancient suburb rivalry flares for a playful second. Long Island home, Bronx heart. Janet knows where her loyalties lie!

"Still, I'm willing to make some generous allowances for him. You know. Takes all kinds, diversity, blah blah blah," she says, making a Pac-Man motion with her free hand and a theartical bobbing of her brows.

She gets to her feet and stoops to offer hands to Steve to help him out of the water. "C'mon, I'm ready to go inside for a bit," she tells him. "And I need to get some leather treat on those shoes, the salt's not good for the glue."

Captain America has posed:
The grin sports those dimples for a passing second. "Glad you're so magnanimous." Steve pushes off and away from the offered hand, water swirling up around his chin. "You go ahead to the chair, I'm going to do a quick lap or two."

Like a seal, the Captain disappears beneath the surface and after descending to the bottom of the pool, he launches himself towards the far end. A stream of silvery-white bubbles linger in his wake and break on the surface. He comes up for air at the far end and then breaks into a lazy backwards butterfly stroke, indulging in the actualization of proper health and toned musculature. He won't be terribly long, only three times up and down, before he swims into the shallow end. Levering himself up out of the water, he wanders over and is certain to grab Janet up into a hug. It's a wet hug. Dripping wet.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet sticks a tongue out at Steve when he jets away and moves to gather her things up. Her towel's draped over her shoulder, beer finished and discarded, and then when she spots Steve leaving the water she gathers up her shoes and moves to meet him.

And then Steve's hugging her and she squeaks in protest. Her hands are too full to fight back. "Oh damnit, Steve, I just dried--!" She yelps and swats at him ineffectually with the towel in her hand, but it's all overlaid on a giggle of warm affection as she curls into his warm embrace. Damp or not. Fingers rise to touch his jawline and coax him down for an affectionate kiss.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain dips his head to return the kiss and laughs. "Language, van Dyne, tsk." He reaches out to snag his own towel and ruffles it through his hair. As he runs it down his back, it leaves him almost haloed with the fall of the sun. "Figured you for a lady," he adds as he folds the towel around his waist to better sop up the water dripping from his board shorts. He grabs up the wadded ball of soaked tanktop as well and slings it easily over one shoulder.

"Coulda had me fooled there for a second." Steve gives her another eat-shit grin as he begins to walk away, his hand extended to be taken if she felt so inclined.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Wow, and we're right back to you knowing nothing about women," Janet says, looking impressed by Steve's backsliding. She reaches across to take his hand with hers, then pinches his at his ribs once she's holding his fingers. A moment later she shifts her grip to hold his hand more naturally, and stretches her stride out to keep up with Steve's longer legs.

"Hey, I read about the Sentinel attack," she tells him as they head into the building and up the stairs. Janet's voice takes on a concerned note for a few moments. "At the mall? Some of the Xavier crew was there, from what I was told. I guess they straight trashed two Sentinels and hustled some people out of there. Did you pick up any SHIELD chatter about it?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve yelps and dances to one side a little at the goosing of the thin skin along his side. A lifted hand silently speaks to placation and the Wasp's point made -- no further teasing in that vein greets her as they walk. Out of habit, the Captain lets Janet take the lead on the stairs and glances up at her question from his bare feet.

"Thought I heard something come over the comms. I know there were agents in the area responding, but I'd bet they weren't metahumans. Probably stayed out of the immediate fighting zone. What did you hear? Is everyone okay?" He remembers about their impending visit to the School and more concern floods his expression, bringing the noble solemnity to the forefront.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Mostly. Yes, I think so," Janet amends. She nudges open the door to her room and tosses her towel over a chairback. She brings her shoes over to a little sitting bench and roots around in it for a leather polish kit, kept in a neat little plastic bin. "I don't know all the details, Kitty couldn't be more than painfully vague." Water is run over the shoes to rinse off any chemicals and she sits on the bench with one leg tucked under her, applying the leather care stuff to the shoes before they crack.

"I think they're unhappy about it. I mean, the Sentinels thing. Not so much the robots," Janet amends. "But that there are people still backing the machines as domestic patrol units. Why can't we put them to work, like, building hospitals and homes for veterans? They cost as much as a fighter jet and they aren't *nearly* as effective as the Avengers. *And*--" she wiggles a cotton swab at Steve. "They're not as cute."

Captain America has posed:
Steve ends up lingering in the doorway to Janet's room, leaning on the lintel as is his wont in many situations around the mansion. With arms crossed and the divot present between his brows, he listens. His attention travels briefly around the room before returning to her. It falls to the care of the shoes and there's a wriggling guilt that passes through him; Janet knows how to care for them, they'll be just fine, he tells himself. Otherwise, well...he can always order new shoes for her as an apology.

He shifts, the muscles of his arm dented by the wooden lines of the doorframe. "Those're all good points, but it's in the manufacturing and the tech of the 'bots themselves. Throw the thoughts to Tony though. Next time he's in front of the cameras, he can suggest them to the general public. Maybe Trask'll squirm." Despite himself, his voice slips low and cold for a second. He sighs through his nose. "I think we're all unhappy about it. It's not freedom from fear. It's carrying a big bat and threatening to swing if someone steps out of line."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"No, it's an abdication of social responsibility," Janet corrects. She sits in profile to Steve so she can use the light from her window. Brow furrowed, she hunches over her shoes and applies the water treatment to them. "It's not the use of force," she continues, a little absently. "I mean sh-- heck, we've done more property damage than Godzilla," the fashionista observes. "But we've all got personal responsibility for it. Even if we're a team, we're a team of individuals. There's a face to whomever's smashing down the wall."

"Sentinels are like uniforms. Cops, worse than cops," she amends. "'cause they're all faceless and they don't have any individual agency. They're all identical. You can't get mad at 'a' Sentinel for doing something destructive. You get mad at Sentinels. And it's hard to be personally mad at something *that* big, and even if you are, what're you gonna do if you're a blue-collar dockworker? Sue? Can't fight City Hall," she concludes, and squints one-eyed at the shoe under direct light to make sure she's doing thorough work.

Captain America has posed:
Despite the topic at hand, the smile creeps onto Steve's face, accompanied by a fond pride. There is a wicked streak of savviness hidden beneath the face Janet puts forth to the world as a whole and every single time it shows, he feels his heart grow -- and god, it's admittedly attractive as hell.

"Guess we'll have to be mad at 'em until we figure out a better solution. Pretty cathartic punching them," the Captain admits, "Even if they do bruise your knuckles."

He pushes off the doorframe. "Lemme go shower 'nd change into dry clothing 'nd I'll scrounge up something to eat."