9180/FYI, Wade YES.

FYI, Wade YES.
Date of Scene:	13 September 2019
Location:	Steve's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Wade and Steve have waffles.
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Captain America

---

Deadpool has posed:
Sleepover tiiiime! Wade was a little bit like a bag of cats at the start of the night, erratic and emotionally out of wack.

The morning shows an entirely different Wade, as if the sleep on the couch (splayed with one leg up, some of his torso crushed into the corner, one arm under him) may have hit more than one of his reset buttons. He wanders into the probably occupied bathroom, having lost his shirt at some point in the night, in a horror show of disturbing torso, face, arms. That's just his skin. It's almost all on display, except for the pants he has on. He isn't wearing the borrowed ones, he has on magenta ones with 'JUICY' low on the butt. Where he got those may be up to debate and possibly not worth the pain of investigation. "Morning," Wade remarks calmly.

Captain America has posed:
"G'morninfk, Wabe."

The soft sounds of the toothbrush in Steve's mouth continue after having paused to greet the Merc -- around the toothbrush. He's got the cling of sleep around him still, a lack of bright alertness in his eyes and comfortable slouch to his shoulders. Shirtless himself and in sweatpants, he commandeers one of the two available sinks along the long stretch of bathroom counter. It's clear that while one sink 'belongs' to him, the other belongs to Janet; a small collection of items marks this territory as her own.

"Sweep welw ben?" -- did Wade sleep well, he asks, still engaged in foaming at the mouth with toothpaste. He briefly eyes the other man in the reflection of the mirror benignly and with the barest hint of wariness.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade speaks garble. Very well, really. When strangling someone you are interviewing/torturing garble is usually the speech type of choice. "Yup, like a crate of puppies on sedatives," Wade answers. It lacks a sing-song tone, because he's going right into Janet's territory, with caution thrown out the bathroom door.

Wade begins to inspect her things, a few of the toiletries, with a curiosity: lifting the hand-lotion on the side to smell it. "Coconut and Bleach? I thought you more a 'summer' than 'industrial cleaner'," Wade comments. Might just be the scent of cleaning supplies nearby, too.

"You shape your eyelashes?" Wade asks then, at the eyelash curler. "No judgement. America's eyelashes. I get it."

Captain America has posed:
"Gwad to hear you swept welf. I don'k shape my eyewashes," comments the blond soldier in regards to the eyelash curler. "Dose are Janet's thinks, shtop touchink dem." He's not unkind by tone, but there's a flat seriousness that begs for no hijinks until breakfast is had -- or maybe some coffee. He spits out the foamed paste and runs the water to clean out the sink as well as his toothbrush. It goes away into the holder and he turns to consider Wade.

"She wouldn't use bleach anyways, she's careful about what goes on her skin. You a morning shower type at all? If so, there're towels in the vertical pantry there," -- a point at it tucked to the far side of the long, well-lit vanity. " -- and 'm sure you can tell which bottles are mine in the shower."

What Steve doesn't know is that Janet recently replaced all of his things with the Old Spice brand, scent title of: Captain. Insert rimshot here. Also, no doubt, to accent her point that soldiers post-missions tend to smell like dirty gear and stale Old Spice.

Deadpool has posed:
"Why would I touch them? I don't have any eyebrows. A minor perk to being me, no hair maintenance at all anymore," Wade shares, with some distant dismay and loss. "I had pretty blonde locks. I mean. I think I did. Probably. That's the memory and I'm sticking to it."

Wade doesn't touch anything other than the lotion bottle, he puts it back down and adjusts it back to how it was 'just so'. There's a respectful quality to the manner.

"Shower? Okay." The ability of Wade to determine which shampoo is Steve's may be questionable, but sometimes it's best to just not know the answers of which soap had contact with Deadpool's ass.

"I would like waffles," Wade says, while looking into the shower and preparing it by pulling the curtain and so on. There's no shyness here.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain exits the bathroom once he sees the readiness of the curtain. It's a matter of respecting personal space rather than embarrassment -- the man was in the Army after all, where nudity mattered much, much more less than being shot. That, and he wants to find a shirt, it's beginning to be chilly in the mornings with the approaching onset of autumn.

"Waffles sound good," Steve agrees quietly. "You take your shower 'nd we'll go down to the kitchen 'nd make 'em." Hopefully Wade's not expecting anything fancy. The box of Bisquick in the storage pantry might as well have Steve's name scribbled on it in sharpie-pen. Despite the Captain's inability to do anything like fois-gras, he can at least whip up simple waffles. Plus, the coffee-maker's automatic and involves button-pushing, so no rocket science involved in this process, at least.

He seats himself on the end of his bed to wait, now in a t-shirt beneath a grey zip-up fleece-lined sweatshirt. With tired acceptance does he thumb through his emails on his phone.

Deadpool has posed:
Shower on, door shut.

And then the singing. Boy, is there /singing/.

"Slowly walking down the HALL
Faster than a CHANNONBALL
Where were you while We were getting high?

SOMEDAY YOU WILL FIND ME,
CAUGHT BENEATH THE LANDSLLLLLLLLIDE
IN A CHAMPANGE SUPERNOVA IN THE SKKYYYYYY."
~~

Captain America has posed:
A glance up from beneath his brows is amused despite the lingering weight of lethe. Snorting to himself and shaking his head, Steve goes back to scrolling through his messages from both SHIELD and within the Avengers coterie. His straight-spined posture eventually does relax into a slump before he rotates to put his back against one of the posters of the bed. A leg lies straight along the end of the bed while the other hangs to settle his foot on the carpeted floor.

Ping -- it's from Barnes. Another small laugh leaves him at the text on-screen. What snark. Yes, Bucky, a cup of coffee does cost that much these days depending on where once goes.

Deadpool has posed:
Either the song is really long, or Deadpool is repeating lyric chunks, or both. He's also humming the several minutes of instrumental bridge. It's reasonably skilled, really.

"But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning 'round, we don't know why
Why, why, why, WHYYYYYYYYYY?
Rinse off of there soap, nope nope."

There's some bonus lyrics to the song, clearly. Then the water is shut off, there's rapid drying, and Wade is once more presentable, in the same pants again. And a towel wrapped around his head as if he had an enormous head of hair, like a turban.

"I have prepared myself for waffles physically and mentally," Wade assures Steve.

Captain America has posed:
"Good." Slipping his cellphone away after he finishes his text to Barnes (<<TRY THE COFFEE IN THE TRISK CANTINA STOP IT'S NOT BAD STOP>>), Steve then rises. A small smile at Wade and he offers, "You can borrow a sweatshirt if you want to, there's one hanging on the chair by the desk. It's not dirty. I meant to wear it yesterday 'nd forgot about it." It's another Army-green affair, a pullover hoodie rather than a zip-up. "Figure the kitchen might be a little cold. Floor'll be cold, at least."

Another reason to wear slippers, but Steve passes on those. The chill of the tile will wake him up all the more quickly.

Regardless if the offer of sweatshirt is taken or left, he leads the way out of the bedroom and down towards the kitchen. "If we're lucky, nobody's eaten the jar of peanut butter. I dunno about peanut butter on waffles...pancakes, sure. Maple syrup 'nd butter seems enough topping for me," he shares companionably as he descends the main stairs.

Deadpool has posed:
"I'll just put my suit back on if you have ten minutes to wait," Wade says flippantly. And then reconsiders. It takes some time, and there's waffles. But walking around without the suit is also sometimes something he's self-conscious about. The screaming, oh, the screaming. The children pointing and staring. It can eat at a soul.

Wade grabs the sweatshirt, and then goes to his deflated suit, and rescues the image inducer off of it. "Smart me," Wade declares, strapping it around a wrist while starting towards the door, barefoot. "No Thor. I remember. No Thor."

Captain America has posed:
"No Thor," Steve confirms. Once they're in the kitchen, he gets to work at making the waffles. By the speed of his task, he's done this a good number of times before. Milk and a few eggs get pulled from the fridge and placed alongside the box of Bisquick. Why lemon juice? That's the secret touch, after all.

"Mugs are in the cupboard there." The soldier nods towards the section of cabinets in particular. "Coffee-maker's there. Buttons are pretty intuitive, but lemme know if you want something fancier. I can try." A yawn splits his lips for a second before he smacks them and glances over at Wade. "How goes it with Nat?"

Deadpool has posed:
Wade picks? himself, in his own suit. Meaning, the red and black leather mercenary appearance. That's reasonable. And Not Thor.

Wade is able to help out, by supervising and rearranging things that Steve puts on the counter in the illusion of helping. He also stands near the waffle iron looking ready with a spatula, having also found an apron to wear.

"Ummmmm. To be determined? Maybe we're gonna do stuff. We're pals. But she gives great hugs. And she's great in bed."

Captain America has posed:
Whence the apron came from, Steve doesn't know, but he's also the kind of man to deep-fry food without wearing any form of protective coverings against grease spatter. He doesn't know of the collection of them hanging on the interior door of one of the many tall cupboards in the kitchen.

Glancing over at Wade, the Captain then flicks his eyebrows down at the mixing bowl. The eggs get cracked in one at a time, shells tossed in the sink, and then comes the milk. "I wouldn't know about hugs -- no, I take that back. I get one now 'nd then from her, but not more'n a polite one." He makes no comment about her prowess beneath the sheets, but his ears still pink. "'m glad to hear that you're still able to spend time with her. It's important, spending time with friends."

Deadpool has posed:
"I mean, texting is okay, but I'm more of a face-time quality. I think I lose some of my charm and high-definition fidelity if I'm not an in-person experience," Wade chatters, but fishes his phone out of sweatpants pocket to be distracted by texting, presumably, the Widow.

A variety of emjois follow, as well as a meme of squirrels performing superhero landings; perhaps you've seen it.

"Kind of like listening to a movie in a language you don't know, versus watching it with subtitles on. You only get the barest of a gist, from like, tone alone, or the screaming."

Captain America has posed:
"I can definitely say I get what you mean by that," Steve comments as to the subtitles. "I'm lost with some of the more modern films out of Asia -- can figure out mostly what's going on, but eventually it becomes reading the body language." The wooden spoon scrapes around the inside of the large bowl as he mixes with adroit ease, as fast as many mixer can manage.

"Alright, waffle iron's all ready?" he asks of Wade, glancing from the implement to the Merc. "You made your coffee? Or do you want to be in charge of cooking the waffles while I make coffee?"

Deadpool has posed:
"I can be in charge of cooking, I have my apron on and everything. An apron for coffee really feels excessive," Wade asides firmly. He also shoves a hand into the waffle iron, possibly enough to worry any onlooker, but didn't actually do more than get his palm REALLY close to the interior. Fearless about damage, this one.

"Needs another minute, isn't crisping yet, but I'll take that. You gotta leave some lumps, Stevie," Deadpool admonishes, with grabby hands at the batter.

Captain America has posed:
With gloved hands reaching in nearly toddler-like earnesty to work the batter, Steve steps away to leave the mixing spoon and bowl for Wade to work at. He's got coffee to make anyways. Two mugs emerge from his rifling through a cupboard and he sets one beneath the spigots of the machine before he gets to pushes the familiar sequence of buttons. He's a man of habit in his coffee, at least.

"How do you want your coffee, Wade? This thing can get pretty fancy if you want. Latte, flavorings, the whole mess. Stark doesn't spare much expense in things," he explains, shooting the Merc a wry little smile. Already, the redolence of the brew dispensing into the mug sporting '#1 Avenger' smells heavenly.

Deadpool has posed:
"Can you put a smiley face design in the top foam?" Wade asks, as if that's relevant to any of what was asked of him. He's not really paying full attention (rarely the case anyway), while opening the waffle iron again to glop mix into it. There's some satisfaction with pressing it closed, as if it contained evildoers he was enjoying mashing flat inside.

"Or an unhappy face. Really just a face. I like my coffee to look at me while I consume it. That's not true for all food, though; eating a fish with a face just makes me think about the fish's life under the sea."

Captain America has posed:
Steve considers the coffee machine. His own cuppa finishes out brewing and he sets it aside. It's nothing fancy, black with a touch of cream. "Can I put a smiley face in it...? Maybe? Latte -- try a latte 'nd maybe the foam'll work out if I move the cup around...?" He's thinking aloud as he stands there, squinting at the buttons. Cycling through the options, he sets the blend, the grind, the temperature, and then hits go. Wade's mug says 'WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GO-GO'.

It seemed an appropriate mug to grab, according to the Captain's mostly-awake logic.

"Can't say I've ever thought about what the fish was doing before it ended up on my plate," he adds as he rests his palms on the countertop.

Deadpool has posed:
"Was it a bad fish? Was it a good fish? Did it make ethically moral decisions?" Wade asks. "I feel like that's how people become vegetarians. Anthropomorphizing things like fish. I wonder why they don't also do it to lettuce. Is it the lack of a face? Maybe that's it."

"Just hit all the buttons, make it fancy. Or black. Like, surprise me," Wade waggles his hand towards the ridiculous Stark coffeemaker. It probably also does julienned fries, tell the time, and summons genies.

Wade decides the iron is done, and extracts the first waffle. It's not burned, so there's that: since Wade didn't wander off away from the project.

Captain America has posed:
"It'll be a straight latte, no syrups," reports the Captain from over by the fantastical machine. It grinds and burbles and begins dispensing while Steve frowns at it, wondering at when to start fussing with tilting the cup about to create the design -- maybe when the milk starts being added.

"Oh, nice waffle, Wade, well done." Just the right amount of crisping on its latticed patterning. "Start stackin' 'em. Figure I'll eat two, you make as many as you want for yourself." Waffle management is left to Wade for now, given he appears to be enjoying himself.

Deadpool has posed:
Wade poured in new batter - only to look over at what Steve is doing, and feel an abrupt need to intrude. It's clear: he closes the iron and then hops over to shove his face in to see what the coffee machine is doing. He also offers over the bowl of batter to Steve. "Clean cup, move down, move down, clean cup, Alice," singsongs Wade, as if it were his merry unbirthday. Disney references like whoa today.

"I got it. Design time." More grabbyhands.

Captain America has posed:
A soft laugh leaves Steve even as he rescues his own mug away from the immediate area of the coffee-making machine. A half-circling back-dance around Wade leaves him to attend to the nearly-completed latte. The kitchen is beginning to smell like a small French cafe and it settles some mild discomfort in the Captain's composure. Lessening of lines about his eyes is proof as he tilts his head to make sure no batter's overflowing out the sides of the waffle-maker.

"Lemme know how you do it if you do it. Janet might find it charming," he asks of Wade as he stuffs a dishtowel flat beneath the waffle-maker in case of eventual spillage.

Deadpool has posed:
"I am not often charming. That would be a new look for me," declares Wade. That draws his attention off of the latte, unfortunately (fortunately?) to let it finish it's brewing magic while he considers things that are charming.

Wade goes for his image inducer, fiddles with it. He becomes a broadshouldered man with lux blonde hair and dazzling white teeth. The outfit is almost Thor-inclined, but more like something from, yes, a Disney park. "Prince Charming. There. Now that attitude can match the latte-making charm school skill," declares the prince in his white-white shiny prince-suit.

WITH THE APRON OVER IT.

Prince charming grabs a coffee stirrer and begins to play with the foamy top as it does its thing, focused.

Captain America has posed:
The coffee mug lifted to Steve's lips pauses there as he glances over at Wade. Wade Charming. Prince Wade Charming? Prince Charming Wade. A deep slurp of his coffee and he can't help the single laugh.

"I think many a coffee shop would hire you if you got that latte-making charm school skill down pat." The next waffle is worked out and onto the plate. With a blorp of batter, the third gets to cooking once the Captain closes the hinges. "You ever work in a coffee shop?"

Deadpool has posed:
Indeed, Wade's a great friend: entertaining, fun and creative. When he's not crawling the walls trying to shoot himself or others. Small detail, that.

"Who the holy fuck wants to work at a coffee shop for any length of time?" Wade asks, horrified. The swearing clashes particularly harshly with the Prince Charming appearance. That's part of why Wade did it: normally he's careful about too much bad language in front of his buddy Steve.

"I'd only do it to deliberately get people's names wildly wrong on their cups. And that would last only half an hour," Wade shares. "Also I'm a criminal, normal people jobs are hard to acquire."

Wade draws out the coffee and beams at it. Somehow he's managed to make a Pikachu face in foam.

How exactly Wade ended up with Pikachu, we may never know.

"Does this look like a dick to you?" Wade asks of his artwork, as if concerned.

Captain America has posed:
Leaning over from wiping at the inevitable bubbled-out batter from the cracks of the waffle-maker, Steve eyes the drawing in the foam.

"...no, it looks like a cartoon rabbit to me," he replies, not immediately recognizing the Pokemon creature upon the speckled layering of coffee. "Not a dick. And language, Wade." It's more a flippant comment than any serious retort on his part. He returns to his coffee and kills another third of it. "I've gotta get to the Trisk after waffles, just so you're aware of it. Can't linger."

Deadpool has posed:
"Like dicks for ears," Wade describes. "I mean, I wasn't NOT trying to make dicks," the mercenary with the mouth continues. "Oh, Language. Sorry. Como paus para os ouvidos. Or Mimi no tame no penisu no yo ni."

Wade slurps the coffee, removing Pikachu's face, and providing reminder that he doesn't have his mask on under the image of the Charming One. "Trisk? I'll give you a ride. Then we can have an extra fifteen minutes here, as you'll save travel time," Wade promises happily, slapping his buddy's shoulder, and snaring one of the waffles, syrup. "They're getting frozen. Come eat!"