7970/Assault on HYDRA: Steve's Epilogue

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Assault on HYDRA: Steve's Epilogue
Date of Scene: 20 June 2019
Location: Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis: Steve Rogers returns from the HYDRA mission to a welcome little homecoming at Avenger's Mansion with Janet.
Cast of Characters: Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)




Captain America has posed:
It would be an accurate statement to level at the Captain who enters the mansion: //Look what the cat dragged in.//

For he drags in, shoulders drooped in weariness, and with his hair still wet from a quick rinse-down shower at the Triskelion post-mission. Bucky and Skye both were handed off to the knowledgeable care of the medical staff and the advanced technology available in the SHIELD infirmary. He himself sports a thin butterfly-bandaid at his temple to hold closed a scalp slice he had no idea existed until someone pointed it out on the ride home.

He shuffles to his bedroom, closes the door behind him, and then drags a hand down his face as he leans back against it. "All's well that ends well," he murmurs to himself. Rolling his shoulders as he walks over to his dresser, he shrugs off the motorcycle jacket. On his arms, bruises show here and there and one sports the rough speckling of skin nearly broken where he clipped rebar in his frantic run to exit the collapsing facility. It'll be sweatpants and a t-shirt and probably falling asleep on his couch after attempting to read a book, probably.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Knockknock. Janet cracks the door a beat later and slips inside, wearing flowing earth-brown pajama pants and a yellow camisole top. Slippers cover her feet. "Saw you limping in," she tells Steve. Eyes flicker to the bruises on his arms and shoulders, and she winces despite herself. A hand touches her collarbone. "God. YOu really need to learn to duck. Or wear better armor," she chivvies him. In her hands is a little closed basket, and she walks over to Steve and pops up on a toe to kiss his cheekbone. "Welcome home, soldier. Hungry?"

The smell of cold fried chicken assails Steve's nose.

Captain America has posed:
Steve looks over his shoulder from where he stands by his dresser, fingers curled as if preparing to pull off his long-sleeved undershirt. Oh, it's Janet -- not someone unexpected, for he knew he wasn't going to slip in under anyone's radar. She delivers her kiss and he glances from the basket to her face. His smile is sweet, tender, a little frayed at the edges, and he slips his arms around the petite fashionista to pull her close to him.

"'m glad to be home," he murmurs into her dark hair, smelling as it always does of the light sweetness of care products. It soothes something inside him further. "'nd 'm always hungry, you know me. You're a gem, Shortcakes." He leans away to look down at her in his arms and explains as to the welts: "But don't worry about me. Not a matter of ducking when you're carrying folks out of harm's way. They got out safe, I got a few bruises. Seems a fair exchange to me."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Well, long as it's not your face," Janet says, patting Steve's cheekbone. "Scars are only sexy if they're not in this region." She waves a palm in front of her nose. "I could give you a physical later," she says, fluttering her lashes. "Just to make sure its' all in order."

'Doctor' Janet moves to Steve's little sitting table and starts unpacking the box. Cold, fried chicken, fresh made. Potato salad. And a little chocolate cake. All from an upscale organic produce store. Last, most important: two bottles of a creamy old stout beer, so brown as to be black. "C'mere and sit and eat," she says, beckoning him over, and digs a plain jar of cream out of the bag. "I've got some of that tiger balm, it'll make those bruises feel a whole lot better," she promises him, and beckons Steve to sit at the table so she can fuss over him a little.

Captain America has posed:
Her plain flirtation is enough to summon up a glimmer of a twinkle in the Captain's true blues. He grins a little and can't help the huff of a laugh or two. "Let's see if your patient falls asleep first."

Perhaps counter to past behavior on display, he follows the basket over to the table and sits with a grunt; no demuring or brush-away of the assistance offered. His sigh blows out before him as he eyes the food. Already his mouth is watering.

"I'd ask if you're psychic, but I know you're not -- I'll add that I've been thinking about fried chicken all week," he says as he stretches out his arm along the table for the ministrations of the tiger balm. "Summer just seems the time for it."

One-handedly, he attempts to serve up on a paper plate fished out of the picnic basket. Two legs, a breast, a heaping serving of potato salad (with dill, the best kind), all fill the plate to near over-flowing. The cake is eyed for later. One of the stouts is uncapped with a flick of his thumbnail and he sips at it. "Mmm," he hums, glancing over at Janet in grateful surprise before drinking more deeply of it.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Don't give me that look," Janet tells him, with a flaring impatience. "You won't take me on secret, sexy spy missions, so I get to fuss over you when you get home." She starts rubbing the cream into his bruises, wincing once as she gauges his reaction. It's a little painful, probably, but it's a soothing herbal analgesic that probably wouldn't be legal to import into the US if she hadn't brought it past customs in her private jet. And it works really, really well.

"Did, um.. did the op go down okay?" she asks, looking for a reaction. Hopefully everyone came home in one piece, and if Steve's bruises are the worst of it, that was a good day for all involved. "This was that thing with SHIELD, right, the guerilla op?"

Captain America has posed:
"It was the op," Steve confirms as he glances over at her fingertips working the balm into the abraided bruise. Owwwwww. Still, the brief glance is the only tell he's going to give up. Otherwise, he goes back to spooning potato salad into his mouth. "'nd it wasn't a sexy mission," he adds after he swallows with another huff of a laugh. "It was a necessity long-due. Buck'll sleep better at night. Hell, we all will...at SHIELD."

The next sigh is from his gut. His shoulder slump noticeably as he pauses in eating the food, now just giving it a pensive glower. "I think...think we finally put to rest a ghost." He rolls his lips momentarily. "Better have put him to rest. If he comes back like one of those damned cockroaches, I...I don't know what we'll do." A hard swallow and he shovels more potato salad moodily into his mouth, still looking down at his plate.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I look forward to hearing about it," Janet promises Steve. Because she'll find out the details once they're declassified or she persuades someone to tell her. She moves behind him and starts rubbing his shoulders, then blinks once. "Why did I think that'd work," she mutters, and leans her scant weight behind the point of an elbow and rolls it in a circle against a dense lump of muscle in Steve's cabled back.

"How's Bucky holding up, anyway? And, uh, Peggy?" she asks, with a feigned indifference. Just casually inquiring about how Steve's friends are, nothing to see here...

Captain America has posed:
It's like a horse leaning back into the point of her elbow. At least the back of the chair stops the worst of the strength. She's definitely found a knot in the Captain's broad shoulders and he lets out a quiet groan of gratitude that semi-resonates in the bottle of stout lifted to his lips.

He sets down the bottle and picks off a layering of breading from the fried chicken, exposing its gleaming innards. Steve's all about the sighs this evening. "Buck went in after a downed agent and would've gotten them both out but for some falling rebar. Got him in the thigh. Saw it happen and I grabbed 'em both, carried 'em out before it came down on our heads." Janet can probably feel the subtle increase in tension at his shoulders as he continues. "Last I checked, Peggy was fine too. She was in a separate team than me 'nd Buck."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet nods. A beat later, realizing Steve can't see it, she clears her throat. "Bucky's good people," she tells him. "Wish I hadn't blown it with him," she mutters. "I'd like to get to know him better. Someday." She sighs.

"I, uh... after you left the room the other day. Hank's room. I told him about us," she tells Steve. "I wasn't trying to rub it in his face or anything. Just that I... figured I owed him the truth, if nothing else. I didn't want him pissed at you 'cause he heard it from a passing gossip or something."

Captain America has posed:
"Buck's got a thick skull sometimes. Give him some time, he'll come around." Steve seems very sure of this. He still bites into a leg of chicken with marked force and continues cleaning it to the bone while he tries to relax his shoulders back to their previous state. After all, the massage does feel good, and now the tiger balm is settling into the bruises to turn them into pockets of warmth rather than tense pain.

He wipes at his mouth after setting aside the clean bone and then turns in the chair to face Janet. He tries for another smile, mostly succeeds, and takes up one of her hands in the process. "That was brave of you, <<seillean>>. Good of you. It's out of the way now," he says as he looks up at her. "I won't make it any worse. When I'm around him, it'll be work and professionalism," he assures her.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet accepts the offered hand and then curls into Steve's lap like a housecat, crossing one leg over the other towards him, and nestles against his sternum. "Oh, you can kick his ass if you have to," Janet assures Steve. "/I'm/ being the bigger person here by not scuttling around worrying about protecting his ego. Besides," she admits, glancing down for a moment. "It's been five years. I hardly see him outside work and board meetings. Seeing him all... messed up on the table, filled with tubes. I remember he was-- is-- a good guy, at heart. Maybe you're..." She fidgets. "Maybe you're helping me be less of a bitch or something, I don't know," she mutters.

Captain America has posed:
The wee bundling of fashionista is easily grabbed up and held against the broad warmth of his chest. His little laugh stirs a few dark hairs as Steve leans in, letting the kiss linger there on the crown of her head.

"If I am, 'm happy to be that person for you," he murmurs back. "'m not worried. He's got his project to work on 'nd if there's anything I remember about Hank, it's that he's up to his ears in his work. He 'nd Tony are a lot alike, even if having them in the same room's about as safe as two cats in a sack. We're gonna need him." He rubs a warm palm along the outside of her arm, to her shoulder and down and up again.

"I thought about us when I went to go find him. Knew we'd be fine. Dunno that I wouldn't have gone if I thought we'd be in trouble, but..." He reaches out and beyond her to fiddle with trying to spoon up some cake. It's gathered and delivered to before her lips. "This time, we can have our cake and eat it too."

And he's not one bit ashamed of that line given the faint dimples.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet eyes Steve adoringly up until that last line, and then rolls her eyes with a dramatic heave. She puts her palm against his face and shoves him away. Physics being what it is, she's the one who's forced backwards by the motion. Steve's arm traps her and turns it into a wriggle followed by a defeated flop.

"I'm not gonna let you have any of this now," she says, reaching for the cake tin. She hauls it over, steals a fork from the table setting, and gives herself a savagely pronounced bite of the dessert.

Captain America has posed:
"No? None for me?" Steve even has the audacity to speak around the mouthful of cake that's apparently for him, denied by Janet and her attempted stiff-arm. He snakes the spoon around and dives in for another bite. "Pretty sure I'm going to have at least one more serving before you take it all for yourself."

She's wiggly, but he's stubborn. There might even be some utensil-fencing, clinking here and there, but swoop! There it is, the bite of cake, and Steve shoves it in his face as fast as he can manage, trying not to laugh as he does.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Whatever," Janet scoffs, and rolls out of Steve's grip with one last bite, in defiance of his utensil victory. "It'll go right to my thighs anyway. Save me from myself. I'm going to go nibble on a carrot stick and think about drinking a glass of water later, that'll hold me over for a day at least," she says, patting her trim tummy.

Janet eats just fine, of course. Exercise /and/ diet, that's the key. Though her diet's admittedly more rigorous than most, and she's at the gym as much as anyone else to burn off spare calories from things like burgers or sugary sweets.

She narrows her eyes enviously at Steve and his cake and his fast metabolism, though.

Captain America has posed:
Steve takes up the tin of cake and leans back in his chair, eyeing Janet right back with those infuriating faint dimples present. He eyebrow-waggles at her even as he spoons another heaping mouthful of cake up.

"If it'll make you feel better, you can consider how the calories will be put to good use." Yes, it's ridiculous levels of flirtation back at the fashionista, but for once? It feels appropriate, especially after surviving the total and complete collapse of a facility into a mountainside.

Along with the mountainside itself.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet considers this. She comes to a conclusion, perks, and moves back to the table. This time she perches on the edge of the furniture, though, and leans over so Steve can feed her a bite of the cake.

"As long as you promise to help me burn the calories off later," she says, politely covering her mouth as she chews and speaks. An index finger aims at Steve. "I swear to god, if you tell me 'let's go for a jog', I will /leave/ you and you /know/ what I'm talking about," she says, eyes narrowing at Steve. She's getting better about anticipating his peculiar turns of humor.

Captain America has posed:
A bite of cake is delivered with a forewarning twinkle in those true-blues. It's almost like there's a suggestion on the tip of his tongue about how the calories should be burned.

Alas -- foiled!

Steve's throat is on display as he lets his head fall back and he laughs loudly for the first time in almost a day. "Oh...well then," he murmurs as he gives Janet a fond smirk. "I'll have to give you a run for your money another way, I guess, since running not an option." He temporarily sets aside the cake in order to take a deep swig of his stout, nearly to the dregs in several large gulps. Smacking his lips, he glances up from reading the label and tilts it towards Janet.

"This goes great with the cake, you should try it."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Why not?" Janet reaches across the table for the other bear and pops it with a churchkey, and takes a swig. She makes a face, immediately. "Oh, god, that is /terrible/," she complains and hands it off to Steve. "Here, you finish it. We'll pretend I drank it and count it against my carbload for the day," she assures him.

She shifts, crossing her legs at the knee, and leans back on a braced-out arm so she can look sideways at Steve. "You okay with me staying tonight, then?" she asks, a little more quietly. "If you need to decompress I can sleep in my room. I just ..." she flips her free hand over in the air. "I thought you'd like someone warm to curl up with. Might make you feel better."

Captain America has posed:
"Don't mind if I do." The opened bottle, barely sampled, is taken after he's killed the other one with a content final swallow. This one Steve intends to pick at more slowly given how it gets a single tip and then remains in his hand, idly leaned on bottom's edge against the table as he considers Janet.

"Since we're honest with one another, I was gonna come find you if you weren't gonna stay the night. Things..." The pause is pensive. "Things've changed. No need to lie there and wait until my mind finally shuts down near dawn. Got someone to come home to now," he says quietly back, holding her eyes in his solemn earnesty.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's finds herself blinking in surprise. "Steve, that's..." She goes still, hand dropping limp on her thigh, and finds her eyes a little damp. The look she gives Steve is loaded with complicated emotions, too many to sort out. Happy tears, it looks like, at least. Sorrow for his pain and happiness she's the one who can fix it.

She clears her throat, marshalling her reaction, and smiles at Steve with a warm sincerity. "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Steven Rogers," she tells him, and slides off the table. She touches his chin and jaw with her fingertips and tilts his head back so she can kiss him quite soundly, resting a shin on his thigh for balance.

Captain America has posed:
Her flickering expressions are marked by the Captain. He keeps himself from tucking his chin, but only just barely; the smile given back to Janet is still a little concerned, as if he worries he overstepped his bounds, but she mollifies him just as quickly with the return curve of her lips.

However, the dip of his face isn't to be helped at her soft words. He at least pretends to be humble, secretly pleased to have said precisely the correct thing, and when she comes in for the certain kiss, his ears are pleasantly pinked. Aw shucks. When they break for air, he laughs breathily at her, regard flickering from her mouth to the glory of those green eyes, lined in dark lashes.

"Sometimes I'm sweet," he agrees in a sparkle of dry humor. "But you're sweeter."