8605/It's Too Hot for Crime Fighting

It's Too Hot for Crime Fighting
Date of Scene:	31 July 2019
Location:	Swimming Pool - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Every work-break should contain a bear-hug into the pool during the summer, clearly.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)

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Captain America has posed:
It's one of those days in New York City where even the villains think twice about setting foot outside. These summer days, back when Steve was naught but skin and bones and asthmatic struggles, were the literal worst of his remembered life. These days? It's not half-bad.

Especially when he comes up from a flop into the pool, having taken Janet in with him. Unfortunately, Captain America can't be the paramount of saintly goodness 24/7. He'd nabbed her up and, in good-natured tease, literally carried her with feet off the ground from wherever the poor young woman had been ensconced. Everybody needs a break now and then!

Whether or not Steve gets the bill later for any clothing ruined is worth it several times over with the cool water countering the clinging, muggy heat of this summer afternoon.

"'s'far as I'm concerned, you were turning into a very dull person," the blond soldier grins at Janet, quoting the old adage about too much work.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Well, you only get so many of those moments in life. Janet breaches the shallow end like a dolphin and reflexively brushes her short-cropped hair away from her face. Her peach-colored cross-wrap top clings to her curves like a second skin. "Far as /I'm/ concerned, you're lucky you've got those dimples to save your butt," Janet scolds Steve. She swims to the edge of the pool and effortlessly hops out of the water to rest her rear on the concrete pool perimeter. Her jeans are unbuttoned and she starts wriggling out of them without any self-conciousness, revealing darkly navy-blue minishorts under them. "I've been working my ass off trying to keep my personal income from disappearing," she scolds him. "You can't blame me for living in my office for a few days." Her feet wriggle at Steve, demanding his help in removing the clingy denim around her hips.

Captain America has posed:
"Knew the dimples were useful for something." Steve shakes his head in a motion nearly canine before slicking his bangs back from his face. His own jeans and t-shirt cling like a second skin as he broad-strokes over to aid in the removal of Janet's beleaguered pants. As a mermaid might rest on a rock, he leaves his waist-down in the water and props himself ip on his elbows at the edge.

"Any progress on that?" asks he as he carefully pinches at the bottom cuffs of the pants. Too much of the leonine strength and he'll likely rip the material if not accidentally pull Janet off her feet -- and it's not sexy landing on the roughened, anti-slip surfacing around the pool's perimeter. He frowns up at her, mild concern darkening his features.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet wriggles her legs helpfully so Steve can get the tight-fitting clothing off. Unlike men's denim, Janet's jeans are cut with a much closer fit. "I'm .... kind of nervous," she admits, quietly. "My CFO's out, which is super inconvenient. Now my factory in Lahore's been... occupied by insurgents? What kind of bullshit is that?" she asks querulously. "And I got word from ... a friend, there's a possibility I'm gonna get audited," she sighs. "It's not the end of the world, but.... audits cost a fortune at my scale. Even if they conclude I've not done anything wrong, I'm out fifty-thousand dollars at least in attorney and accounting fees."

She kicks her feet loose of the clothing and lays back on the concrete, staring up at the blue sky overhead. "I hired a PI to look into it. No one's luck is THIS bad."

Captain America has posed:
Off the jeans come and Steve takes a moment to smooth them out flat to one side to dry in the summer sunshine. He listens in quiet, attentive, continued concern and the divot between his brows deepens. "It's starting to get suspicious..." he murmurs. Then, dropping back beneath the surface in order to push off from the pool's bottom with his toes, he gets out of the pool with far more grace than a beached seal or penguin might accomplish. He ends up on his back beside Janet, the back of his head pillowed on in his interlaced fingers. A sigh is slow to leave him.

"What's the PI told you so far? Do you need to get anyone else involved yet?" The second question surely pertains to himself and others of their Avengering ilk. Steve's head rolls to look over at her, marks her gracile profile of face, the press of her lips.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet looks ... uncomfortable. Which is saying something; it's entirely possible the New England socialite is incapable of feeling guilt or embarassment. She looks away from Steve at a wall of verdant hedges, then turns back to him.

"W-e-ll..." She draws the words out. "I'm thinking I should pay a visit to Lahore. Personally. I don't like being made to wear a hijab," she pouts. "But I'm getting stonewalled. I've been in this game long enough to know when I'm getting a burueacratic runaround, and the Pakistani ambassador is doing precisely that. I need my factory up and running." She scratches at a thumbnail, careful not to ruin her immaculate nail polish. "I could take my private jet. Be there in a day. Figure a couple days to settle things, then a flight home." She looks at Steve, eyes hopeful.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's brows relax as realization coincides with her explanation. They gather just as quickly again, as if they weren't to be parted unless in sleep or death. Poor guy -- at least the serum protects against the most severe of wrinkles.

"It'd be respectful if you did wear it," he points out mildly, fully aware of the Wasp likely having measured this in light of social graces. He shifts on the warm concrete. Its heat has already begun to dry his clothing in earnest where the fall of the sun endeavors on. The spread of pool water around his person isn't lingering beyond his shadow cast. "You want me to come with? 'm not sure what influence I can have, Janet. I've got no eggs in this basket, given it's all your business," he explains with a pragmatic sense of rue.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Ahh... yeah, that's kinda a.... a whole -thing-," Janet hedges. It's a sure bet she's about to ask Steve to do something that might grate at his painfully Lawful Good morality. "I can't really hide who I am, but I definitely can't take America's Golden Boy with me to Pakistan," she cautions him. "I'm going on a business deal, not an Avenger's thing. Certainly not SHIELD and *definitely* not US Government."

She rolls onto her hip and elbow; she curls a leg coquettishly to emphasize her curves. A fingernail scrapes up and down the hollow of Steve's breastbone. "That said, if you were dead-set on helping me... you know, the consulate wouldn't turn you away," she tells him. Her lower lip emerges just a fraction of an inch and she hits Steve with her most devastating through-the-lashes pout of appeal. "You could come in via the Embassy, then... well, gosh, you know, who'd say boo about us going into Lahore? Maybe we get dinner, maybe we liberate a factory full of my workers. No one would look twice at it."

Captain America has posed:
The pensive delivery of her thoughts has Steve at first frowning yet again. He's outright suspicious, yes, very aware of how many times his own internal compass has been tested by instances of self-serving logic. His eyes fall to the finely-manicured fingernail and goosebumps immediately spring up in its wake, brought on by touch and not by passing breeze. While cooler, the air around the pool is still in the afternoon's doldrums. With his gaze having returned to the Wasp's face, he pulls his mouth to one side in his signature expression of misgiving.

"Dinner's guaranteed to include a covert infiltration of the place? Because my shield's kind of obvious to hide under the table, much less be taken into the factory in the first place," he notes drily. Mister Stars and Spangles doesn't blend into the crowd in his usual get-up, after all.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's eyes light up at Steve's implies acquiesence. "Baby if dinner's what it takes, a dinner you will get," she promises him. Her palm lays flat against his sternum; she giggles and leans forward to kiss his cheekbone gratefully. A weight seems to disappear from her slender shoulders.

"Anywhere you want. Sushi in San Francisco, escargot in Paris, you name it." She sighs in relief and lays on her back again, a hand shading her eyes from the sun. "I think this whole thing is messed up. Pakistan isn't know for playing well with terrorists and insurgents. It's in a bit of upheaval but-- why take over a textiles factory? I employ over a thousand people there. It's putting a lot of folks out of work."

She looks over at Steve, letting the rhetorical question hang in the air. "Steven, if... my financial situation sort of uh... destabilized for a while. Would that be problematic for you? I mean, for us?" she asks, unable to hide a little concern in her voice. "I mean if I wasn't on the Forbes list anymore."

Captain America has posed:
Those true-blue eyes track the young woman's relaxation back to the poolside's ground and squint. Oh well -- in for a penny, in for a dollar. He'll weather any guff he might end up getting from anyone who discovers //why// he suddenly attended his gal out of the country.

Steve's turn to roll onto his side, though he continues through to his stomach and props himself up on his elbows again to better look down into Janet's face. His toes idly dip into the cool blue water as he smirks at her. "<<Seillean>>, remember that I grew up in a time 'nd place where we were lucky to have leftovers. We also boiled everything. An orange was a Christmas present. I love you for you," and a fingertip reaches out to gently pop off the end of her pert nose before it draws up and around the arch of her manicured brow. "Not for your money. I've got more'n enough in back-earnings as is. Now, you wanna spoil me with a nice dinner? Can't complain about that. 'm a cheap date as is. What'd'you say to Outback Steakhouse again?" The Captain can't help the curl of a grin now.

A favored memory to revisit, no doubt, couched in terms of blooming onions, mysterious dipping sauces, and a waiter disinclined to fetch anything for anyone BUT Steve.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet abruptly increases in size; nearly a dozen feet tall, feet hanging over the edge of the pool. She grabs Steve by the scruff and with a nelgigent gesture tosses him back into the water again, like a flailing blonde pinwheel.

She resumes her normal, petite size again, propping her head up with palm and elbow. "You do /okay/," Janet tells a surfacing Steve, dryly. "I'm not sure I can drop out of the billionaire club. Where would I even get a new cleaning service? At least my penthouse is paid off for the forseeable future," she exhales. "I won't need to move into the mansion full-time."

Captain America has posed:
There he goes, kerSPLASH. Dense super-soldier muscle does make for a spectacular flailing flume of white bubbles before he surfaces again. Coughing, he manages a laugh between sharp clearings of his throat. "Right, not Outback Steakhouse," the man mutters to himself. Stroking over to the side of the pool once more, he folds his arms on the wetted edge and rests his chin upon it, observing Janet with good-natured patience despite the soaking.

"Come on, the place isn't //that// bad. Sure, there's less privacy 'nd the robots clean at odd hours in the morning, but it's a good place. Home away from home," Steve opines of the mansion and its occupants. "It's not all about the money. You can have happiness without it." He gently challenges her in this along with a flick of his brows. "Just makes things more simple not needing to worry about every penny and dime."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet curls her legs close and pivots on her rear so she's facing Steve; she lays supine and stacks her fists to support her chin in front of her, looking at Steve with wide green eyes.

"I don't-- you don't think I stay here to save /money/, do you?" she asks. Janet laughs at her question almost immediately, giddily amused. "Honey I pay more on my yacht fees in Long Island than I would for rent, even here. I told Tony to take my stipend and hand it to a charitable cause. I'm here because the /team/ is here. We can get a call, suit up, and be airborne in Quinjets in five minutes. It's like a... a firestation, or something. Except no emergency poles to slide down."

Her eyes dance at Steve. "Well, and the company's not bad, I guess. I'd be lying if I said you weren't a factor in me spending more time here before we started dating."

Captain America has posed:
Admittedly, the blond soldier's mind diverts off into a delightful visual of the potentiality of emergency poles and he very firmly yanks his attention back to the present rather than musing over how to present the idea to Stark at their next bi-weekly meeting over coffee. Minute proof of Steve's mental foray flickers in and out of his true-blues and in the shift of his mouth against what would have been a truthfully lackadaisical grin. Her confession about lingering about the mansion, however, does have a radiant smile summoned up, purely boyish and pleased despite himself.

"Guess 'm worth every little fee you pay around here, huh?" A huff of a laugh escapes him, wry and self-depricating. "'m glad it goes towards a cause, Janet. I really am. We have enough money, all of us here. Folks can use every bit of help we can give 'em, even if we're not pulling out the big guns."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Every /dollar/," Janet confirms, and swipes an index finger against Steve's nose. "Considering Tony has yet to bill me for anything, that's saying something," she says with a mirthful attempt at being serious.

"Honestly, we do as much good through charitable giving as anything else," she informs Steve. "I mean, think about it. Fifty million bucks buys a *lot* of social goodwill. After-school programs, school lunches, you name it. Everyone fixates a lot on doing the capes an' tights things, but honestly I wonder if we'd all be better off retiring to focus on improving our net worths so we could donate more to charitable institutions."

Captain America has posed:
"Dunno about ever retiring..." Wiggling his nose, Steve reaches up to scratch along it at an errant drop of water having traced down from his wetted hair, still gleaming bronze with pool water. "Figure my net worth's better built by action alongside donations 'nd appearances. Did the whole tour gig, not a big fan of it. Rather be making an immediate impact instead of getting tied up in paperwork." He's not one bit repentant about his stance on things either given the subtle set of his jaw. The lines of his shoulders relax quickly enough, however, as he drags his legs about beneath the water, busy even when 'lazing' about the mansion. His lips slip into a half-smile.

"You've got the prettier face anyways, if you want to have the limelight between the two'f us. Nobody's interested in my mug when you're dressed to the nines and breaking necks, <<seillean>>."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet reaches forward and gently rakes her fingers through Steve's hair; thumb and forefinger make idle play with his forelocks, short as they are. "I don't /want/ the limelight," she says, lying through her perfect teeth. "But I don't have the star power you do among the veterans and whatnot. Oh, sure, put me in the fashion world, Broadway, Hollywood even, I can swing my weight. But you've got that salt of the earth personality, Steve. Can't be taught. Can't be faked. Like you can't fake that Long Island upbringing, remember when you were at the Regatta and tried to debate John Tafferty about the merits of sedans versus sportfishers?" she reminds him. Janet pats Steve's head reassuringly. "It's /just/ like that."

Captain America has posed:
A spate of rueful laughter jounces the Captain's body as he does, in fact, remember that particular debate: fruitless. He had eventually excused himself on some premise of addressing a immediate need, this particular necessity being the salvaging of his sanity. Light touches of fingernails to his scalp coaxes more relaxation into his frame and his eyelids go to half-mast.

"I know where'm gonna make the most impact, shortcakes. We'll keep at it and who knows? Maybe one day, the world'll be quiet enough to merit retirement." His smirk is weary, in its way. "Not gonna keep my hopes up though. Got a long ways to go yet."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Well, it's definitely at the Newport Regatta Club," Janet says with a wry twist of her lips. "That's okay. That's what you've got me for, navigating those high society functions. You know how much guff I get for having a /job/?" Janet inquries, rhetorically. "Let alone one where I work with my hands for a living. Thank god it's at least artistic; appeals to that sense of philanthropy for the arts. Old blue blooded New England aristocracy, we can be the literal worse," she sighs.

Captain America has posed:
"It's true." The Wasp's sigh is echoed in a far more pronounced manner due to another blip of Rogers subtle sass. "You high-falutin' folk can be the literal worst," he agrees with a errant toss of his head. "Heaven forbid an unmarried woman have a job to sustain herself and her family. Hate to come across that opinion today. It was bad enough back when with my mother."

A scowl is erased as Steve runs a hand down his face and then back up and over his hair, sleeking it back once more. "Anyways, think 'm getting pruned fingers 'nd toes. What d'you want to do for dinner?" Cue his stomach grumbling, though maybe not loudly enough to be heard beneath the water unless ears are sharp.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Steve's sassy attention to Janet is met with an impish, inquisitive expression as he finishes griping; eyes glittering like emeralds, and the corners of her eloquent lips twitching in suggestion of a smile barely held back. She stares at him pointedly, in the way Janet sometimes does when Steve's clearly Missing The Point.

"Federicci's?" she proposes. "If you want Italian, I mean. If you're in the mood for seafood, Ikaruji's is pretty hard to beat. I could go for some nigiri."

Captain America has posed:
"Ikaruji's sounds good. Haven't had any sushi in a while. We did Italian last week." With a quiet 'hup' of effort, Steve then slips up out of the pool once again. Streaming water from his person and clothing, he takes a moment to wring out his shirt as best he can. The jeans he marks as hopeless, sure to be shucked and hung to dry over the interior hold-bars of his master bedroom's shower.

"Lemme shower off real quick 'nd we can get going. Don't want to show up smelling like chlorine. Gotta talk to Stark about taking down the levels a touch. Bit strong." He winces back at the winking blue surface of the pool before he offers a hand-up to the fashionista.

"Don't forget your pants," he reminds her even as a touch of color appears in his cheeks.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Yeah, how do we not have a saltwater pool?" Janet asks. She wrinkles her nose at the cool blue water. "They're not a lot harder to maintain than a chlorine pool. Feels like you're swimming off the coast of Miami."

She looks back at Steve when he prompts her for her pants; the reminder might have been casually acknowledged, but Steve's blushing reaction isn't missed. Janet grins at Steve and leverages to her feet with a smooth motion. She's no willowy dancer but there's nothing wrong with her legs, and she stands on tiptoe to kiss the underside of his jaw. "I thought you /liked/ me without pants," she protests, and gives Steve a look of wide-eyed hurt and confusion that's quite thoroughly feigned.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain clears his throat as a way to help the return of his slightly-shredded dignity. "I like you with or without pants on, shortcakes, but you know the rule about restaurants: no shirts, no shoes, no service. Pants are implied in this listing." He grins quickly, flashing the whites of his teeth. "Figure we'd take the bike, so you'll want to wear pants again."

Because a skirt allows for air movement on a bike, oh yes it does.

A tilt of his head towards the mansion beckons her along. "C'mon. I'll jot down a note about a saltwater pool on the docket for my next meeting with Stark."