2578/Complications Ensue.

Complications Ensue.
Date of Scene:	23 July 2020
Location:	Steve's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Janet has a plan. Maybe. Steve's a good sounding board as it is.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Steve Rogers

---

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet would be lying if she said she wasn't dragging a bit after the events of the previous 24 hours. An intense search for Hank Pym had led a small strike team to crossing an interdimensional bridge, confronting a cybernetic gestalt of Hank and Ultron (PymTron), and then the exhausting vigil over Hank's hospital bed as each took turns waiting for him to wake up.

With Hank awake, the next big thing for the scientist was meeting his long-lost daughter-- and that was a conversation that didn't require Janet's presence. So she heads upstairs and almost without thinking about it, goes to Steve's room. She lets herself in and heads for Steve's small loveseat, and collapses into it with a groan of relief. Janet slumps into the plush chair for only a moment before reaching down and easing her tan, heeled booties off her feet and setting them under the loveseat. She's dressed casually enough (as casual as she ever gets) in designer jeans that ride low and hug her curves, and a flowing black tee that hangs off one shoulder. Citrine and diamond dangle from her ears and wrists, with a ring on her right middle finger to match. "Steve? You in here?" she says, raising her voice to be heard through the suite.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Towards the back of the suite, there's the sound of a faucet turned off. "Two shakes of a lamb's tail, <<Seillean>>," comes the reply from the man in question. He turns his face left and right, inspecting his jawline for any latent gleam of golden shadow, and then stoops after turning on the faucet once more. One splash, two splash, and then the water stops. A handtowel grabbed up pats his face dry and leaves him freshly-shaved as well as scented of his shave soap.

As such, Steve appears out of the bedroom doorway in a white undershirt and jeans, barefooted, his brows already thinking to knit. The slouch of fashionista has him wondering. "What's on your mind?" Overshadowing her at the armrest, he leans in to press a kiss to her dark hair, then leaning weight with elbows locked as his true-blues look her over questioningly.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet looks up at Steve and flashes a smile at the sight of him. Her mood lifts noticeably when he leans down to kiss her, and she slides slender arms around his columnar neck to hug him back.

"Hank's awake," Janet explains, and sits back against the cushions. She tucks her legs up under her, feet hanging off the sofa's edge. "I made it a whole thirty seconds before I started yelling at him. I feel... a *little* shitty about that," she admits. Thumb and forefinger hold an imaginary grain of rice up in front of Steve's face. Her hand drops to her lap.

"Just... kinda weird. Hank with a kid. Nadia. Nadia being Hank's kid." Her eyes go distant and her shoulders shudder once along with a short exhalation of breath. "I guess... he said he was married for two weeks. Some ... Russian thing? They killed her. His wife. Maria," Janet explains.

She grimaces and runs fingernails through her curly brown hair, flicking it away from her forehead. "I don't know. 's weird. Why's it weird?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
There's a muted relief in the Captain's face to hear of Hank's awakening. He knows the difficulties well enough that his other half has had and continues to have with the brilliant scientist and fellow Avenger. The armrest of the chair must be made of sturdy stuff; his muscled frame settles a hip on it, one arm now slung up along the chair's back while the other rests more neutrally along his thigh. His brows do end up knitting.

Those broad shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. His smile's not quite one, more sober in the end. "Life's a weird place to live sometimes." Says the guy who used to be the weirdest thing. "But...'s'weird because life continued without you, maybe? How Hank continued on, kept living? Man's passionate about his work too, so...weird that he took the time to have a kid?" Steve thinks aloud, his tone still mild, each offering of thought handed out not delicately but with care nonetheless.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet leans her shoulder against Steve's thigh and puts her temple against his chest. "I guess. Maybe. I'unno," she acknowledges, finally. Fingers pluck at his jeans, just above his knee. "Life is weird, though, yeah. I think it's just--- Hank as a father. It's changed things so much for him. About him. He used to be all..." She exhales frustration, trying to find the words. "It was always about Hank, it was always his projects and his work and his life. Now he's got this ... kid shows up, and she's actually kind of a sweetheart. Kind of like her dad, too, in other ways," she admits. "And I guess I yelled at him 'cause I just expected him to treat her like he treated everything else-- not as important as his lab work."

She squints up at Steve. "Am I making any sense? I'm entirely too sober, that might be the problem."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The soothing weight of his palm lands on the rounding of Janet's shoulder when she rests her head against him. His chest continues slowly rising in effortless breath, his heart beat just as steady within it. As always, Steve exudes warmth like some personal space-heater come to life.

"You're fine being sober," chuckles the Captain with a small smirk. "Gotta be sober to think rationally about this kind of stuff. 've heard having a kid changes people. Seen it a few times myself. Makes you re-evaluate a lot about yourself. Makes being selfish near impossible." Another tuck of head and he keeps at the steady, soothing rub of her shoulder while he kisses her dark hair again. "Maybe he'll turn over a new leaf, keep looking beyond his work now that Nadia's around."

Another kiss, this one lingering, before his words take on the vaguest note of apology. "Know Agent Morse thinks she's a sleeper agent. Anything new on that front?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Bobbi and Natasha see assassins in their teacups," Janet points out with a dry tone. "It just doesn't scan. They wouldn't need to come up with an elabourate fiction with a daughter who also happens to be DNA correct in order to seduce Hank. Send some buxom blonde with a new theory that validates his research about ... quantum entanglment. Or even worse, one that *disproves* him. He'd go nuts trying to figure her out. I definitely think she's dangerous," Janet points out with an uplifted finger. "She's a fighter. No hesitation. But an infiltrator, or an assassin-- I don't know. I don't get that off of her."

She drums fingers on Steve's thigh. "What do you think? Have you talked to her yet?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Haven't gotten a chance to yet. Figured there's no need to go trying to wake her up if she's still on the mend. Nobody needs me, much less anybody else, looming with a hundred 'nd one questions when they're waking up still," the man replies. He seems a touch more at ease for Janet's thoughts on matters, droll as they are. "We'll take it easy on her, have JARVIS continue monitoring while she's in the infirmary. Once he lets me know she's more ambulatory, I'll stop in 'nd do a little meet 'nd greet, suss out what I can for m'self."

There is a pause. His eyes go distant off towards one of the broad windows of the room, its drapes pulled back to let in ample summer sunlight. "Talking about sleeper agents makes me wonder about triggers...'specially since she came outta the Red Room." His expression goes rather shockingly cold before he shakes his head, coming out of a brief spate of memory. His attention returns to Janet again, softened in fondness once more. "'nother thing to talk about with her if the opportunity presents itself. Not gonna force that conversation on her."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Sure, that'll be fun. 'Hey kid, welcome to the mansion'." She mimics Steve's resonant baritone. "'We're just gonna throw code phrases at you and see if you've got any embedded kill commands'."

"Why don't you ask Bucky?" she inquires, more helpfully. "It's in his wheelhouse. He might even know something about whatever program or operation trained her."

"What I don't understand is: what was the long-term goal?" She gets to her feet and walks to the window, to bask in the sun with a catlike frisson that results in a subtle stretching of her spine and calves. "Why Hank's daughter? Why not literally anyone else? Sure, she's smart, but there was no guarantee that'd get handed down. And Hank's not exactly a paragon of physical fitness, either."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve snorts. "Not gonna have that conversation in the infirmary," he mutters drolly of kill commands. Which clearly implies that this conversation //will// occur at some point in time, one way or another. He thins his lips in obvious reticence as to the idea of asking Barnes, but...it's an idea nonetheless by the noncommittal toss of his head to one side.

A lean-back to give Janet unimpeded departure from the chair and the super-soldier watches her with a familiar appreciation. "Why not Hank's daughter? If I were HYDRA...'nd 'm not," Steve adds in a tone of calm, bone-chilling aversion as if to even joke about the idea was extremely distasteful, " -- she'd've been tested at a very young age for the potential. Any potential would've been noted given her connections both socially 'nd blood-wise. An ace up a sleeve to undermine whatever Hank gets up to in the future. Sowing discord in us, the Avengers, if it comes down to dealing with her as a sleeper agent."

Janet will hear him sigh and now, Steve takes a moment to look somewhat guilty. He rubs the back of his neck before he continues more quietly, "Hate to say it, but what if Nadia's mother was a HYDRA plant too? Could've killed her if she fell in love with her target."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"They did." Janet looks back at Steve. "Hank said. She was abducted and killed. He didn't go into the details," she explains. The petite socialite turns around and rests her hips on the windowsill, back warmed by the sun. The dappled light plays through her short, curling hair, giving it a warm golden hue under the deeper chestnut hues. "Which... I mean, that theory kinda tracks," she concedes, and gestures at Steve. "She's either sent by HYDRA or compromised by them. They ... kidnap her, off her, I'm not sure of the timeframe, but it's enough for her to get knocked up. Maybe they ..." Her nose screws up, thinking. "Maaaybe they thought they could blackmail Hank with a baby...?"

She throws her hands up in exasperaton. "Now I sound like Natasha. Chasing my own tail with conspiracies."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Thing is, there's just enough information for some'f the theories to hold water. Not a lot of it, still holes here 'nd there, but there's traction if anything pans out more true'n not." Steve's folded his arms lightly now, still settled hip-shot on the arm of the loveseat. "HYDRA's like that. If they were clearer, I'd've rooted 'em out back when 'nd made certain of it."

His hard sigh is composing of himself, forcing the shadows out of his eyes and expression. "But you're right. Nothing to be had for it right now 'til we get some better intel. 'm glad to hear things're at least right enough to merit yelling at Hank."

What cheek from the Captain, he very aware of just how cantankerous the scientist can be from his own experience.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Yeah, well.... fine line between love and hate, they say," Janet concedes. She's not about to -apologize- for it, because Janet might be literally incapable of the act, but at least she's acknowledging it was perhaps not the epitome of decorum. "The first thing he says is, 'She's gonna be so disappointed in me', and I just--" Fingers clench the air in inarticulate frustration. "Holy shit that made me mad. He's always negging on himself and like, okay, there's a difference between humility and self-hate, but he doesn't get to do that to Nadia," she tells Steve with a scowl. "'Hey kid, you risked your life comign here and you're on the run from the Russians forever, but really I'm a piece of shit and you don't want me in your life', I mean--"

Lips purse around a breath of air as she gets her temper under control again. "Then he got off on a tear about how she wasn't really his daughter and he was in histrionics about it being a plot or a PymTron hallucination, and he started ripping out his IVs, so I slapped him."

Her head tilts to the side and Janet tugs at her earlobe with a grimace, looking away. "God, what is with my temper today?" she asks half-rhetorically.

Steve Rogers has posed:
While Janet expounds, her other half takes the opportunity to slip into the love-seat. A rustle of his shoulderblades into the back pillowing of it and he listens in the quiet, attentive manner he usually offers when another has concerns. Golden brows lift to hear of the slap. Wowzers. She asks her question, he lifts a hand briefly off its resting place at his belt buckle.

"Mean, 'm no psychologist, but could be wanting to keep Nadia from feeling what you felt with your family?" Steve offers as his own thought on matters. He then pats his thighs twice in invitation to join him rather than remain sitting on the windowsill.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet moves to the love seat and drops heavily into it. Her head and shoulderblades land on Steve's thighs for a pillow. A heel props against the sofa cushion and she crosses one knee over the other, leaving a foot bobbling in the air. French tips on her toenails, today.

"God. Mom died when I was little, and Daddy was..." She exhales, absently fingering her pendant with a stressy motion as if it soothes her. "Well, he was very distant, and very involved in his work, and shipped me off to boarding school when I was like... eight. I'd come home on hols and see him on the other side of a twenty-foot table, if he bothered coming to dinner at all. After mom died I don't think I spent more than a couple days in a month with him around."

She exhales wearily; this level of self-introspection is deeply taxing for the flighty socialite. "At least there's no chance of her ending up shipped off to Switzerland for finishing school."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Not something I'd wish on anybody," he agrees as to a distant school far from what could become home. Steve's fingers of one hand find their way into the fashionista's dark hair and begin a measured flexion; fingertips massage at her scalp even as he looks down at her, chin slightly tucked at the angle of observation.

"Don't feel like Hank's gonna treat his daughter like that...stick her at the end of a table or shove her off to one side. Thing is, if you want, nothin's stopping you from being a listening ear for her if she seems troubled. You've got some wisdom to share." His close-lipped smile down at her is quiet. "We all do. Been around the block a few more times'n her."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Yeah, I know," Janet exhales. A low purling sound escapes her throat at the massage and she visibly relaxes at Steve's mollifying caress. "Don't know about wisdom, though. A Russian wetworks agent? And she's at least as smart as Hank; you should have seen her, she was into his lab like she owned it."

She stretches, catlike, and rolls over so she's kneeling next to Steve on the sofa with her hands on her thighs. "I do need to talk to her about brand poaching, though. I'm willing to cut her some slack 'cause she's Hank's kid, but if she keeps calling herself 'Wasp' we're gonna have an issue. -I'm- the Wasp. I have merchandise and stuff. If she burns down some building or does some uncontrolled demolition, my stock prices take a hit!"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve can't help the grinning flash of white teeth after Janet's righted herself. "Don't think she's gonna steal your thunder. Talk with her, yes, maybe from the perspective of call-signs. When we ask after the 'Wasp', we mean you. Either that or I start calling for Shortcakes down the line..." His smile grows mildly cheeky again. "Or <<Seillean>>, but I figure that one I can keep to myself."

A little stretch of his legs brings his own bare toes to spread and then collect again. No French manicure there. "But sounds like you're talking about intelligence when it comes to the labs. Wisdom? Wisdom's earned 'nd she's young still," he notes more soberly.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I-- is there a difference?" Janet squints at Steve, then waves the question off. "Whatever. It's not important. I'm not going to turn the kid out if she comes to me looking for help. And if you call me 'Shortcakes' on the comms net, you and me--" She pokes Steve in the shoulder. "We're gonna go a round, buster. And not in a fun way."

Lashes bat and she mollifies him with a touch of her hand on the same place. "Well, eventually it'll be fun," she says, and wriggles into his personal space with an impish look.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Oh, eventually, is it? Not right off the bat? Gonna coming swingin' at me 'nd hissy-spittin' in a kitten-fit?" asks the Captain, his smile growing more cheeky by another degree. "Me, I'd never call you 'Shortcakes' on the comms."

A pause. "...mmm, nah, never do it," Steve agrees with himself as he suddenly gathers up the fashionista with one arm beneath the bend of her knees and the other about the middle of her back, hand on a shoulder to balance her. "There is a difference between intelligence 'nd wisdom, yes. Think about a professor who knows a lot about his field of study but not enough to know better'n to not eat leftovers that've been sitting in the fridge for two weeks while he was busy at his science. Intelligent man, yes. Wise? No."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Eep!" Janet is more surprised than protesting, and goes comfortably limp in Steve's arms as he pulls her into his lap. She curls into him with a familiarity that's a little possessive and grateful at the same time, and rests her head against his chest. Fingers trace absent lines over his sternum.

"I guess... I don't know. Maybe she does remind me a bit of Hank," Janet concedes. "But like-- I don't know. She's had all these terrible things happen to her. The Red Room. Her dad going missing. She hasn't had a real life and it's like-- she's got all that focus Hank did, but she's focused on *helping* people. She's a little high strung and obsessive," she allows."But I think she genuinely cares about people. She is *making* herself be happy."

"I wanna help her," she says, and tilts her head back up to look at Steve. "Give her a little... I don't know. Guidance or something. Is that okay? It's not gonna be weird for you, or anything?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve brings up one foot to rest it on the edge of the seat's cushion, the beetter to be a back-rest along with his arm as she leans into the breadth of his chest. He leans his cheek against her dark hair now, letting his thumb do an idle metronome back and forth at the round of her shoulder.

When she asks as she does and looks up at him, he cranes his head back to tuck chin and meet her verdant eyes. "'m here to support you, <<Seillean>>. Nothing wrong with wanting to help someone out if they're floundering, even if they don't know they are. Why'd you think it might be weird for me?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I don't know, you're a guy. Guys are weird about stuff," Janet accuses Steve. Fingers rise and fall in a hapless shrug. "It's not like she's my kid. She's Hank's kid. There's just...." The inside of her cheek is sucked in and she chews on it in consternation. A hand unconsciously plays with her pendant, rolling the little patriotic disc around on her fingertips and worrying at it. "She's got potential, I guess. I want to see her succeed. Maybe I'm worried Hank's gonna screw it up, o-or the Russians are gonna grab her. I don't know. There's just..." She trails off with a frustrated sound, unable to articulate herself to her satisfaction.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"You don't have to second-guess wanting to help somebody," Steve replies quietly, his tone gentle and calm. "Doesn't matter if she's not your daughter. Some younger men aren't my sons 'nd I help 'em out anyways, lend 'em a hand or a sounding board or whatever they need to pick themselves up by the bootstraps the next time 'm not around to help."

His palm continues rubbing back and forth on her shoulder soothingly. "Now, if you're feeling like this is something done out of guilt or a want to show you're better'n Hank? Think about it harder first," he suggests in his painfully pragmatic manner.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Oooof," Janet says, and goes boneless in Steve's arms with a theatrical eyeroll. "And you were doing so -well- there for a second."

She looks up and back at him, giggles, and palm-pushes his face away with a playful touch. Her hand returns to his cheekbone a moment later to cup it gently.

"No. I've done some shitty things to Hank just to spite him," she admits. "Sometimes because he pissed me off, sometimes just 'cause he was in the area when I was mad. This doesn't feel like that. I got mad at him for even considering doing something that'd hurt that kid. Me," she repeats. "So... I don't know. I don't know if I can unpack all this. If I want to. But I think she needs me. Maybe I need her, too."

She looks back at him. "Thanks," she adds. "For... everything. For being you."

Steve Rogers has posed:
A snort for the dead-weight flop in reaction to his suggestion. Steve knows he doesn't sugar-coat everything, not even for his Shortcakes. He leans obligingly away for the shove of his face and just as quickly shifts his face back, smirking. She continues thinking and he contines listening in the quietly-attentive manner he's known for, keenly present and for her, not overwhelmingly so. Others have received the blade's edge of attention before.

"Thanks for being me? Nobody else I can be at this point," the Captain notes, still smiling in the manner he reserves only for the Wasp. "But'm here for you, Janet, 'nd the aid you're gonna give her. You can't be anybody but yourself either 'nd maybe that's what she needs. Know I love you for who you are anyways, no contention there."

His true-blues linger on her face. "Gonna be tough now 'nd then, but 've got your back," he emphasizes before leaning in to kiss her as if to impress a solemn seal on the whole affair.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet leans up into the kiss and for a moment the worries of the world fall away. It's just her and Steve. The world's a dangerous and uncertain place, but wrapped up in his arms, it's hard not to feel safe and secure. No matter how strange life gets.

Wriggling around, she rolls in his arms and straddles his lap. An elbow rests on his chest and she props her head up on her knuckles. Green eyes stare into true-blue, focused and unblinking. "Say it again." The prompt comes with a lurking, pleased smile. Her knees tense around his midsection. "I like hearing it."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Golden brows lift. Athleticism in a small package means his hands have ended up shifting from juggling her repositioning to resting at the tops of her hips. Steve then allows himself that smile just a touch too innocent to be believed. Janet surely knows this one, the one where he's daring at the idea of funning at a topic just this side of Very Serious.

But...he relents.

"I love you for who you are 'nd've got your back," the man repeats as he allows himself a one-sided dimple. There's a patpat of a broad palm at her hip. "Can't make me say it again though. Rule of three 'nd all. Terrible things happen when you say something three times. Seen that Beetlejuice movie." An overly solemn shake of his head, never dropping their shared gazes.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"What, if you say it once more, it'll be true?" Janet's eyebrows dance at Steve. "Forever, even? That's a dangerous proposition," she agrees, and stretches lazily to press her soft contours into Steve's harder planes. "I won't ever *make* you say it, honey," she reminds him. Hips wiggle under his fingertips and she scoots a little higher so she's sitting firmly in his lap. "That's the whole point, isn't it? It's not real if someone's making you do it." Fingertips walk up Steve's chest and she slides both arms around his neck, nuzzling up his jawline towards his ear.

"But if I wanna hear it once more... just once more," she wheedles. "Are you really going to make me *ask*?" The words are whispered directly in his ear, a warm tickle of air against his temple.

Steve Rogers has posed:
A weakness, the sensitivity of his ears, and well-exploited. Steve laughs at the entire display as it stands, not with cruelty in mind but rather knowledge of precisely what's going on here.

"Dunno, you want it from the heart or just rote like off'f some flash card at the podium?" His hands at her hips grip and relax once, like a cat kneading a favored pillow. "'Cause 'm thinking you want it from the heart 'nd if I just say it once more right now, kind of takes the sparkle from it, don't you think? 's'like...asking for flowers instead of getting 'em on your desk without any warning, isn't it?"

Steve makes a note to have some randomly ordered right then and there.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Should I have to manipulate you into it?" Janet sallies back, matching Steve's whimsical tone. "Prompt you?" She sits back on his lap so she can loook him in the eye, keeping fingers loosely curled behind his neck. Hips roll in a slow motion under his fingertips. "But that's just me and my infinite patience for you, poor emotionally inarticulate fellah that you are. I'm willing to overlook your shortcomings in emotional logic and furthur your education about the language of love." Lips purse and she looks skywards as if expecting divine blessings to rain down upon her for her vast tolerance. "That's just the kind of person I am, Steve," she sighs theatrically.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Dunno where I would be without your guidance," the man drolly replies, his dimple disappearing into a smirk. "Would probably have to talk to somebody else about how to communicate 'nd dunno how that'd even go. You might end up with me attempting to do interpretive dance instead of speaking English like I am now."

He then lifts his chin a touch, the grin deepening. "But if you're thinking that's the way it's supposed to go, here's me prompting you: go on, tell me the same thing now. Can't use the same words I did, gotta use your own."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet sits up right and back, rear on Steve's lower thigh. "I love you because you're handsome *and* adorable. I love you because you know the differnce between holding doors and holding me back." She counts on two fingers, raises a third. "And I love you because despite your advanced age *and* tremendous social shortcomings, you at least *try* to be a good person."

Fingers curl around one of the displaced small throw pillows and she swings it at Steve's head with little force behind it. "See how easy that was? But like I said, you're a guy. Guys are weird about stuff and things." The smile on Janet's face radiates benevolent accomodation.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve makes a quiet 'oof' sound as the throw pillow pops off the side of his head. He then grips it to halt a second frontal assault to his person and grins.

"I think you just called me old. <<Seillean>>. I might be over a hundred, but 'm not dead 'nd 'm not that socially inept. Figure...I gotta mean it. Prompting doesn't do it for me. 's'gotta come from the heart when I tell you." His broad shoulders shrug.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"You're telling me to take it on faith, huh?" Janet's eyes glimmer. "All right, I guess you've earned a bit of that from me." She brings her hand up to her face, fingers holding an invisible grain of rice. "Just a bit."

She scoots forward on his lap again and rests her hands on his chest, leaning on locked out arms. A troubled look crosses her face.

"I don't have the first fucking clue what to do with this kid, Steve," she says, more soberly. "I was thinking like, sit her down and talk or something, and the first thing that popped into mind was 'Do it over drinks'. She's sixteen. I don't think Hank would be thrilled with me contributing to the delinquency of his minor child. What if I just screw this whole pooch and it ends up blowing up in everyone's face? What if she doesn't even want my help?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve snorts quietly again. Just a bit. Given no further case of frontal assault appearing to be incoming, he sets aside the pillow in his own show of faith as her palms splay on the breadth of his chest. Her shift from flippancy to solemnity has his own expression mirroring it in turn.

"Lotta what-ifs there. What if you just gave it a shot? Talk to her anyways, without alcohol, one woman to another. If she doesn't want your help, then that's not on you or a reflection of you. That's on her. 's'her decision if she wants to figure it out on her own," the Captain notes mildly.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
A series of gurgling protests slip from Janet's mouth and with a theatrical roll of her eyes she goes limp atop Steve in full protest of the universe's assault on her emotional well-being. "Godddd, the s-word," Janet groans. "I don't wanna be sober. It'll be a conversation full of... feelings, and shit, I just know it."

She buries her face against Steve's chest again and goes limp. "Okay. Fine. You talked me into it. I'll ... text her, and set something up."

An elbow props up on his sternum and she balances her chin in her palm. "Y'know what-- maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. I should make her a member of Team Wasp. Get her invested in her own image. She's Pym's kid, but she's gonna be part of the little Ant-Fam thing," Janet points out. "I could give her some of my corporate shares. Deed her... I don't know. Ten percent of my royalties from the Wasp stuff, and a couple points off the Avenger's merch line. Get her invested in being the best she can be."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The Captain's warm palm rubs between the scapulae of the collapsed brunette on his chest and then pat-pats the space consolingly. "Texting sounds like a good plan, <<Seillean>>. Get the wheels rolling 'nd see where it goes."

Janet sits up a little with her elbow rested as it is and Steve has to crane his neck back an inch or two to keep from being all but nose-to-nose with her. His brows lift. "Not a bad idea, giving her a chance to see what it's like to be a part of a team. Might help with the bonding you're attempting. The deed's...a bigger move, but don't look at me for help with things like stock wisdom. I was told I broke SHIELD's current plan for a 401k when I showed up again." Smirk.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet remains comfortably sprawled atop Steve as he shifts, offering no protest. Her other hand rests on his sternum to draw idle traceries with a manicured fingernail. "It's not a big move at all. I have exclusive rights to the Wasp intellectual property and a cut of the Avenger's merchandising and licensing fees. Y'know, shirts and action figures. We're technically a charitable organization so it doesn't amount to much, I think... like a million a year?" she says, nose wrinkling. "All my shares are owned by one of my shell companies and I get dividends from those as the majority shareholder in my own company, which is in the Seychelles."

Janet wriggles atop Steve, distractingly. "You /really/ should let me take a look at restructuring your finances, honey. You're not even incorporated in a trust. You /do/ know the Federal pension investment program is run by people who were too dumb to actually hack it in the markets after graduating business school, right?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"I had no idea the program's personnel didn't have the time or interest to get involved with the stock rackets, no," replies Steve rather drolly. "But if you wanna look over some things 'nd show me what you come up with, I've got no problem with it. Used to being frugal with money 'nd keeping it stashed away in a wooden box in the wall, not investing large sums of it." He had been raised in the Great Depression, after all.

His hand settles at the small of her back and keeps up its soothing motions, back and forth, easy as Sunday morning.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Oh my god," Janet says with a theatrical eyeroll. "Next you're going to tell me you've got your back pay just sitting in a checking account somewhere. Get your little money box out and I'll look at it," she offers. Her eyes lid and she lays her head down to meld her slender frame over Steve's chest. "Then I'll hook you up with my accountant, he used to be at Berkshire-Hathaway. Saved me like twenty million last year."

At the motion of fingers at her lower back, Janet shivers palpably and her hips twitch in minute little circles. Fingers curl against Steve's ribs. "Nnf. Was I saying something?" she adds in a dreamy voice. "Suddenly it seems very unimportant."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"You have no idea how much is in my checking account," mutters the super-soldier good-naturedly -- because she doesn't -- and it might be shocking if Janet ever looks. Regardless, Steve can see he's managed to finally derail her interest in his finances by the subtle machinations of something akin to a back massage.

"You were saying something, yes." His smile is knowing, just a touch troubling. "If you wanna stop saying things 'nd just lay close for a little while 's'still quiet 'nd nobody needs us for anything, 'm not opposed to that either."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet stirs and stretches her spine out, just enough to nuzzle rather pointedly under Steve's chin. Her leg straightens behind her and she wraps her ankle behind Steve's knee. "Mm, you're saying we have an afternoon all to ourselves? And no one needs us for anything? And the world's not going to end in the next couple hours?"

One hand digs her cell phone out off the back pocket off her jeans, mashes the buttons until it turns off with an electronic wheedling, and deliberately throws it at a chair across the room. "What *can* we do to fill the time, I wonder?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Mean, curious minds do want to know," Steve agrees as he looks back from watching the cell phone arc across the room. Good aim, he thinks to himself.

"You're thinking 's'probably something where we shouldn't be disturbed, with how you just hucked your phone like it was a grenade?" Funnily enough, the man's in the process of plucking his own phone from his pants pocket and then doing the same thing. It powers down and then joins Janet's phone in an idle toss to temporary purgatory.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Less worried about 'disturbed', more worried about being... interrupted," Janet says coyly. Lips whisper against Steve's earlobe and she tugs herself to a standing position, rather pointedly slithering up the length of Steve's body as she does. The petite fashionista turns and tucks a little curlicue of brown hair behind her ear, and kisses his forehead affectionately. "I'd by lying if I said I was concerned with us 'disturbing' anyone."

She starts towards the bedroom suite with a lazy sashay of her hips. "Unless you'd *really* rather me get on your accounting homework," she teases, and slips around the doorframe.