1522/Scene title: REDACTED

Scene title: REDACTED
Date of Scene:	05 May 2020
Location:	Steve's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Wade visits Steve, pillow fight is had, for the Dark Side.
Cast of Characters:	Steve Rogers, Wade Wilson

---

Steve Rogers has posed:
It's not too long after sunset. The lights of the city have come on in counter to the disappearance of the sun and one Steve Rogers is in bed early -- well, comparatively to other Avengers presences in the mansion. There's been a development at the Triskelion, but having been reassured that it's nothing critical, he's tapped the bedside lamp to darkness. The remnants of the sunset bring golden tones to the gauzy curtains behind the thicker, light-blocking blinds.

Amazingly, it takes no time at all for the super-soldier to fall asleep. Maybe he was busier than he expected all day. He's on his side, a lump under the blankets, arm tucked up beneath his pillow and head both while the other splays out like his legs. This one's a bed hog, it appears. Very quietly, he snores, at a volume seemingly far counter to his build.

Wade Wilson has posed:
There's a pat-pat-pat to cheek. Soft. Then more urgent. And a weight.

"Cooooooome tooooo the dark siiiiiiiiiiiiiide," growls the low voice.

"We have cheeseburgers."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Consciousness rises in treacly bubbles. Oh man, he was so close to dreaming. All of his body is comfortable, limp weight slack as damp rags on the bed.

Someone's...touching his cheek. Is it Janet? "'m gotta get up inna morning," come the barely-intelligible mumble. Wait.

Heart beat.

Wait a second.

Heart beat.

That's not Janet.

Adrenaline surges as combat reflexes kick into action. Twisting at the waist as he abruptly rises from the covers, Steve yanks at the arm closes to him to bring its connecting torso flat to the bed. Then comes a pillow down and overtop the head, shoved flat even as he goes to straddle the -- the -- person wearing...brown robes?

"Identify yourself," demands Steve in a whipcrack militant command, his voice somehow still kept from resonanting off the bedroom walls. Turns out, he's in an Army t-shirt and a pair of longer basketball shorts, barefoot, blond hair rumpled all to hell now.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"MMmh mmmph mmm MMEHH," mutters the pillow without any real fear, more frustration. Good hearing means it might have been something related to not being able to talk. Because pillow.

Both hands slip backwards to the bedframe, though: doing the opposite of what is likely expected. Most people would go for the pillow or their attacker. That would be logical.

Nope.

Wade is using his hands to brace to slam upwards with his knees, folding himself acrobatically to use knees to fight back, and attempt to ensnare and flip his muscular opponent!

Steve Rogers has posed:
In retrospect, it will make a terrible amount of sense that what comes through the filter of the pillow isn't cohesive English. For the moment, battle reflexes are screaming to get the issue resolved as quickly and painlessly as possible. When the robed figure's legs buck up beneath to then tip his balance abruptly, Steve goes sideways on the bed.

He would have gone off the bed, but a sudden leg grapple keeps him in place, tight around his waist. There's some strength here, his brain calculates -- male, athletic, knowledge of hand-to-hand combat.

Steve grips down HARD on the nearest knee he can find, right above it, and then rears back a fist with middle knuckle pointed dagger-like for a ferocious jab to the nerve plexus located there --

-- until it filters in: the skin is scarred. That isn't hair, it's scarring. Abruptly, he stops, fist now flattened into a hand. Bewildered, still somewhat groggy with sleep and surprise, he asks, "...Wade?!"

Wade Wilson has posed:
One hand moves to grip the pillow off his face and then the other hand joins it, to attempt to fully bash Steve in the head and upper torso with it. It's a pillow, so there isn't exactly a ton of issue here.

"You think you have the high ground, Jedi, but you do not!" Wade announces, after sucking in a big gulp of air. "Reflexes like a cat whose got his tail stepped on, I'll say, but I am always up..."

Pillow slam.

"For..."

Pillow again.

"A Dark side vs Light side..."

Pillow!

"Pillow fight!"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve does release Wade's knee in order to bring up both hands against the Revenge of the Si -- Pillow.

"Wade, you can't just -- " Another whop of the pillow.

"JARVIS, lights at one-hundred percent!" Up come the bedroom lights to full brightness and the Captain squints down at the pillow-flailing sort-of-Jedi.

"Seriously, we are no -- " Pillow swat.

"WADE!"

Steve grabs at the pillow next time it swings in his direction and then, the seams are tested against the might of the Light verses the Dark -- and fail.

POOOF.

So many feathers.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Your poor pillow!" Wade says loudly in lament as the seams are pulled and Wade abruptly releases entirely, leaving Steve to deal with the momentum of his attempt to brace against the eager Mercenary. "Alas, poor Aldaraan, it has exploded!" Wade says of the pillow, releasing his legs and clutching both hands to his chest.

"It is as if a ....single Steve were asleep, then suddenly cried out in panic, as his dreams were thus snuffed by the dark side of the force that brings cheeseburgers."

Or something. It does smell like cheeseburgers.

Steve Rogers has posed:
And there he goes, the blond super-soldier, rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a bodily thud. Another victim of physics, down for the count. Feathers float after him like pufflets of snow and he coughs once, making a soft retching sound as one catches in the back of his throat.

"Wade -- " Taking a moment to roll onto his side and fish out the feather, he then coughs a few more times. "Cheeseburgers?"

Now Steve's head pops into view again, his frown spectacular and diminished by the white feathers sticking to his hair. One's clinging to his eyebrow, all but forgotten.

"You woke me up about cheeseburgers?" he asks in mostly-awake incredulity.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Here," Wade says kindly, climbing over and reaching out towards Steve's face. He attempts to pluck the feather out of his mouth with two fingers, then a few others out of the air. Wade has an excellent reflex for snaring little things, high dexterity. He gets them, without much awareness of personal space. Like the one on a lip. He'll just get that for yooooou.

"Well no, I was just going to see if I could enter your dreams and give you some good fun fighting a sith lord in your heroic noggin. The cheeseburgers weren't the primary reason I talked to you quietly and then maybe woke you. Also you weren't answering your phone and I get /concerned/."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Leaning away, little by little, the Captain attempts to regain his space from the dextrous reaching hands. Wade does snag the one off his lip and Steve then makes a patting gesture towards the Merc, gently letting him know that enough is enough.

"Did you text me...?" Reaching up for his phone, the man plucks it down to see a number of texts of Wade-ic persuasion. He rubs a hand down the side of his face as he sits in a loose criss-crossing on the floor.

"Oh, must've been sleeping hard," he decides, reaching to pluck a feather out of his hair that was tickling his ear something mad. "You can't get into my dreams, Wade. Been told before by psychics that 'm a tough nut to crack."

He then yawns as he shoves the mostly-empty pillowcase up against the base of the bedside desk. "So you're here because...cheesburgers, but more about Sith Lords...?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
Wade shifts apologetic. He pushes his hood back and moves to sit by Steve on the floor, back against the edge of the bed. "Okay, okay, you got me. I had a feeling you needed me. And you needed to be awake. Like there's a reason, but I don't want to be spoilers either."

So, in essence, Wade got a /feeling/ and came. "But I'm okay with being super wrong. You can eat the cheeseburgers I brought, they're in there. I'll let you sleep?" Wade offers. It's all very lucid and collected.

Steve Rogers has posed:
As usual, Wade gets a vaguely perplexed look about the use of the word 'spoilers' in particular. Steve then gets distracted by another feather on the back of his neck and grimaces, scratching it away even as the note regarding cheeseburgers comes into clearer focus.

He peers at his phone again, seeing the lumped panel listing 18 texts and rather not //whom// they were from. "Mean, sometimes those feelings're important. I appreciate the 'why' of it all, even if the 'how' left something to be desired." Up goes the phone onto the bedside desk and he gives Wade an even look. "You want to hang around for a burger? Heart's not gonna slow down for a bit," he explains with a faint smile. "Awake enough to eat one now."

Wade Wilson has posed:
"It's STAR WARS day. May the force. The... I got carried away, forgot it was important. Or maybe that's why. Since it's important? ..." Wade has trouble, lifting both hands up and in to rub his face with his wrists, hard. There's a visible struggle with his own mental difficulty. Pitiful in a way, just for that moment.

"It's important. And I'm your friend." Wade doesn't linger on the statement or the pitiful quality, though, he starts to push to his feet with his heels, pulling the jedi robe aside somewhat with a hand. The robe covers normal people clothing: black utility pants, long-sleeved purple shirt.

Then suddenly, Steve's phone rings, and Wade leaps for it. "NO!" He says loudly, attempting to steal it!

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve mouths the phrase being attempted to completion. 'May the force'...? Still, the Merc's struggle to figure out precisely why he showed up does bring an empathetic pull of the Captain's mouth to one side. His expressive brows quirk.

"'s'okay, Wade. You are my friend 'nd when you remember, you let me kn -- "

There goes the phone sounding off, in a very specific ringtone, and Steve's eyes go wide. A blink and there's Wade leaping for it. "WADE, NO!" His own darting snatch at the phone is for naught. In his overextension, there's still critical seconds where he has to untangle his legs and press up from flopping onto his side, his palm having slapped off the empty bedside desk.

What comes out of his mouth next in Gaelic probably isn't entirely polite, but the attempt to regain his phone continues heedless.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Hello!" Wade says into the phone, and holds up a finger towards Steve in a 'one second' motion. He listens, and pauses to make a 'Zzzztt zzzt!' sound at Steve to hush him and his profanity.

"He needs another hour, he is napping very successfully and needs to eat before his world turns inside-out; please call back in...." Wade looks at his watch. It is a nice one, Dora the Explorer. "Yeah, an hour," Wade says, and, hanging up, offers the phone back.

"Cheeseburger time."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Mild profanity, at best, but man, the Captain's eyes are flashing by the time he gets his phone back. "First of all, you 'zzzzzzt' at me again, we're gonna have words." Finger point for EMPHASIS.

"Secondly, that was somebody who is gonna have words with ME in an hour. Wade, you -- " A sigh puffs a white feather off of that chiseled, patriotic chin. Steve collects himself and continues, much more calmly as he slides his phone away into his pocket, "Just let me answer my own phone, okay? I'll feel better for it. For now, let's eat cheeseburgers. They honestly smell really good now that 'm awake." His body language is entirely truthful in this point of view.

"You can tell me why you're wearing this robe. I think I recognize what it's from...?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
"If you could trust me for a little while, that would be amazing. I'm not here to be obnoxious just /because/," Wade says, with a directness and perhaps startlingly firm quality to his brown eyes as he levels his gaze at Steve with a lingering, odd fierceness. Protecting his Steve-buddy.

"You have your phone now, it's all you. Call back if you really don't trust me. But I think they heard my POINT and they will," Wade says, before leading the way towards the Cheeseburgers. There's fries too, as it turns out. "I forgot to mention the fries! There are fries," Wade says, smooth and cheery.

"Yes, STAR WARS robe. You can have this one. It's Jedi. I'm often more Sith." Wade takes off the robe he brought and drapes it on a chair for Steve's use later, probably.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Ah, right, Star Wars." There's no pandering -- Steve does recognize the garment draped over one of the chairs now. He reaches and fingers at it, smiling to himself in a bemused manner. "Suppose I would be Jedi too, now that I consider it. Be nice to be able to use the Force. Could get my coffee cup from the counter instead of having to get up from my desk to fetch it," he notes as he sits at the table.

He crinkles into one of the bags and garners himself both foil-wrapped burger as well as a white paper cuplet of fries. At one point, he sighs and looks up, a touch forlorn. "I do trust you, Wade. Just...you startled me, is all. Thanks for the cheeseburgers," he says on a saluting lift of the newly-revealed beef sandwich, its silvery wrapping peeled back.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Give it an hour. And I'll be here with you," Wade offers, attempting to slap his buddy's shoulder and come around to snare the fries, taking a spot at the table now in calm relief.

Mission seems accomplished: protect the nice Steve just a little while, from the <SPOILER REDACTED>.