748/Handball is Allowed Here. Maybe.

Handball is Allowed Here. Maybe.
Date of Scene:	25 March 2020
Location:	Courtyard: Triskelion
Synopsis:	A bet made over a game of handball has both Steve and Bucky due to show up fashionably different than normal to work for three days.
Cast of Characters:	James Barnes, Steve Rogers

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James Barnes has posed:
So, there's a plaza at the back of the main complex not much used. And there's enough expanse of concrete there that Buck has chalked in the lines of a handball court....as well as frankly decorated the rest of it with sidewalk chalk. Crayola was a thing even when they were kids, but the profusion of colors and materials available now is dazzling, and Buck has taken full advantage. On the side of the building that's stone and not glass, he's drawn Kilroy, of course. But also a cartoon German Shepherd leading a parade of dog versions of people they know, the staff of an American flag clutched in her mouth. Tony is a terrier in red and gold, Natasha is a sleek black borzoi with scarlet ears, and Steve is a Golden Retriever with his shield slung at his side.

The actual Lili is lounging off to one side, lapping at her portable water dish...and Buck's in sweat pants and t-shirt, warming up by batting the ball around lazily.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve too is in far less dignified form, his button-down and slacks swapped for a plain grey t-shirt and black sweatpants to go with his sneakers snuck from his Triskelion gym locker. He's off to one side stretching, though every time he turns in the direction of the wall decorated with the grand and colorful sketches by a Barnesian hand, he can't help the quiet huff of repressed laughter.

"Took a picture of your work, Buck, in case the janitorial staff take exception to it 'nd wash it away," he informs his oldest friend as he then stretches up on his toes, fingers interlaced and palms inverted towards the sky in a full extension of his body. "Might set it as your profile picture in my phone. Golden retriever though?" He launches himself into the path of the handball in an attempt to bat it away from Barnes at last second with a grunt. As he does, he adds, "You calling my shield a Frisbee?"

James Barnes has posed:
Size and bulk generally mean less flexibility, but not for these two improbabilities. So Buck darts in like a cat to snag the rebound, wings it back towards the unchalked expanse of the court on the wall. "I'm sure they will. I'll just keep drawing more," he says, placidly.

Then he grins at the Golden with his shield. "You pretty much do act like a Frisbee dog. I thought about training Lili for it, but...it'd be too much strain for her. We just play plain old fetch, mostly." Which has her pricking up her ears, hopefully.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"My shield's a lot better than a standard Frisbee," the blond retorts good-naturedly as his sneakers skip on the court. He gets purchase and darts to swat the ball at a haphazard angle back at the wall. "More rebound than this ball." With breath enough to laugh, Steve readies himself to work for the next ricochet of the handball.

"Next time, add in the rest of us. Let's see about the Hulk, for example." Bucky gets a quick little glance and grin, bright and white the latter. He risks a look over at Lili with those perked ears. "Could do nose work?"

James Barnes has posed:
Buck flicks a look at the dog parade. "And you're a lot better'n a standard Golden Retriever, but I maintain there is a resemblance," he says, staunchly. This time he's not fast enough and the ball goes out of bounds.....and which is apparently a signal for Lili to abandon her dish and go bolting after it. She returns in a moment, tail held like a flag of triumph, and drops it into Buck's hand. "Nose work?" he asks, as he ambles back to the court. "You mean, like on the bombers?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve can't help but laugh at the opinion unchanged despite his bland argument against it. Golden Retriever-esque, he will apparently be. His tongue clicks quietly off his teeth when he scores the first point and he pauses, hands on his hips, not breathing overly hard as he watches Lili cavort off after the erstwhile handball.

"Sure. Tracking, mostly. Her handler, when I first met her, was talking about it while I was figuring out what Lili could do. Said it was a good way to exercise their brain but not their body overmuch, if there were limitation for the dog or handler. Something about appealing to their natural abilities 'nd keeping 'em happy." Readying himself with hands on his knees now, he watches for the next launch of the handball. "Could train her to hunt out those magnets you hid from me. Thought leaving you notes was a great idea."

On the Soldier's arm.

James Barnes has posed:
James favors Steve with that enormously dry look he's so good at. "Yeah, I could do more search and rescue with her. She's got a tremendous drive to find things," he agrees, ruffling her ears as she leans against him. Then he's urging her back to where she rests, as he heads out onto the court. "Pfft," he says. "You never change, Steve," But his tone is fond, rather than censorious, as he flicks the ball back into action.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Can't be anybody but myself," the Captain agrees drolly as he goes after the handball at its obscene angle and speed. A thwap of his palm whallops it back towards the wall to rebound enough to possibly entice Barnes to an outstretched lunge. "Consider it revenge for the one time you drew on my face with wood ash-slurry while I slept."

Steve neglects to mention that they were all of maybe ten at the time, but his memory is a long one. He grins nonetheless.

James Barnes has posed:
"You look good with a moustache," Buck retorts, serenely, as he lunges after it. Catches it just in time with fingertips, sends it back to *pop* against the wall. "You were just lucky Sharpies hadn't been invented yet."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"You draw on my face with Sharpie, Barnes, 'nd 'll -- "

Unable to keep speaking and focus on the necessary skill to try stopping the ball from getting past him, he makes a quick leap. Whift! He can feel it brush his fingernails before spinning obliquely off of the court. A few heavy steps before Steve straightens in place, waving a hand towards the ball before he glances back at Bucky.

"I look terrible with a moustache, don't you be saying that around Janet either." He goes to fetch the ball unless one particular Shepherd outruns him in the process.

James Barnes has posed:
"Oh, c'mon, Steve," James wheedles. "YOu know you would. Hell, even a beard. You'd look like Thor's little brother. Well, how Thor's little brother should look. Not like....his actual little brother." Whom he carefully does not name.

Lili, of course, goes to get it....and this time, she deposits it delicately in Steve's hand.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Thank you, good girl." Steve takes a moment to both gently ruffle Lili's ears as well as wipe some dog spit from the ball as he returns to the chalk-marked court. "You know, your handler's a little confused sometimes. He thinks I'd be able to tolerate a beard," he adds to the Shepherd just loudly enough for Barnes to hear. "Maybe he should try one out first 'nd see how it goes."

A hop-skip from where he stands and into action, the ball blurs again with a loud POP off the wall. "Thor would say 'm copying him anyways 'nd 've got enough Asgardian about me as it stands." By the wryly amused way the Captain states this, it's only partially a complaint. But more Asgardian about him?

James Barnes has posed:
"Yeah, how's that whole King of Earth thing working out for you?" Buck's tone is elaborately casual, but there's that glitter of amusement in the pale eyes. "I should get you a crown, King Bob," he adds, grinning like a fox. Lili plops back down on her haunches, grins, wags her tail. Then he's batting the ball back....but off center. Right between Kilroy's eyes.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Buck, you punk, have some tact!" Who knows what ears are listening in on their conversation as it stands? Steve still manages to get to the ball with its quarter-surface coating of chalk and smacks it back in a near-overlay of the original landing point. It pops Kilroy between the eyes just above the previous mark.

"'nd no crown!" he admonishes still somewhat sotto-voce, giving Bucky a sharply amused little side-eyeing.

James Barnes has posed:
His tongue peeks out between his teeth, always a sure indication of intended mischief. "A tiara, then," he says, like someone conceding a point. "Red, white, and blue rhinestones. I mean, c'mon, you were the one prancing around on stage in a spangly outfit. I saw you in the newsreels, Steve. I used to make fun of you, not knowing who you were."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve watches the ball ricochet off the spot he deliberately aimed for and spits a huff in his oldest friend's general direction.

"You keep that tiara for yourself, Barnes. Or better yet, give it to Janet. She'll make better use of it in the long run." He begins quick-stepping back in order to get ready for the ball swatted back at him. "Best thing about the title is I don't have to wear those awful tights anymore. Or the boots. Seriously, you try wearing tights like that all the time. Makes a man rethink some things, like...circulation."

James Barnes has posed:
Steve gets that point for free, for just the image of Steve in tights and those boots has him bent double with laughter. He's got his hair pulled back, so it doesn't veil his face, but the ponytail has flopped over his shoulder....and he's wheezing with it. To the point that Lili, concerned, gets up to come help and starts licking his face.

Steve Rogers has posed:
There goes the ball, bounce-bounce-bounce, into the grass. Steve stands there, hands on his hips, breathing harder than before when he'd first struck that pose. Now it's absolutely a masculine mirror of how Sarah Rogers used to stand on the stoop and eyebrow at the returning duo covered in some form of muck or blood.

"Right, yuck it up, you punk. You wear those tights sometime 'nd you let me know how funny they are afterwards," he reiterates, trying not to smile and succeeding in all but a quirk of his nose. "You wear those tights 'nd tiara 'nd we'll call you Princess Becky because nobody in their right mind would do it."

James Barnes has posed:
Buck's wiping his eyes with his human hand as he straightens. blinking. The smile he gives Steve is fond, even a little sad. Who else on earth remembers Sarah Rogers, after all? They hold each others' memories in trust - that had to have been one of the horrors of Buck brainwashed. That when Steve asked 'Do you remember....?' of the last living being who could, the answer would be 'No'.

Lili, reassured that Buck is not succumbing to trauma, ambles back to her former space. "Maybe," he says. "I own tights, you know. I still do ballet."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Bucky gets a forefinger shook at him rather self-righteously. The burgeoning grin ruins the image now, vouchsafed in Steve's memory and so too, if misty, in Bucky's mind.

"Y'know those don't count. Those're official 'nd fitted correctly. Think about how America was already rationing things. Kids were wearing potato sack fabric for clothing. You think my tights were comfortable?"

He breaks from his mild diatribe to find the ball lost to the grass. A stoop, snatch, and it rises and falls in gentle tosses as Steve walks back to the impromptu court. Now, his grin? It's wicked. "'s'two to one right now, Barnes. You lose one more time 'nd you sport those tights around the Triskelion for three days. Triple-dog-dare you." Look at those dimples. It's a flashback to the tow-headed young boy ducked to an alley wall, full of conniving wit even if the rest of his body couldn't keep up.

James Barnes has posed:
"Flour sack cotton was nice," Buck protests. "I had shirts made out of it. I wish i had some now that were that comfortable." He made them, too. Mrs. Barnes was gone early enough that Buck had to sew and housekeep.

He slants a look at Steve. "And if *I* win, what do I get?" he asks, innocently. "Because I will a hundred percent wear tights around here for three days, as much training permits." No doubt to the delight of every SHIELD employee that's into guys.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"I'll wear the tights around the Triskelion for three days, as much training permits 'em." Another idle toss of the handball lifts it high and hanging above Steve's hand before he catches it again. The wicked grin hasn't lessened in the least. "Get ready to rethink your circulation."

With that, the man whips the handball at an impossibly oblique angle at a speed that no standard human could match. //Standard// human. These two? They're in another grade of play entirely.

James Barnes has posed:
They were meant to be a matched set - Buck the first of many answers to what Steve had become. But it wasn't a perfect match, was it? Steve with a hair more strength and stamina, but Buck with an iota more speed and flexibility. "For the sake of the women of SHIELD....and hell, the guys who like guys, I gotta win this," Buck says.

Then he's all but pouncing like a cat on the ball, leaping up to snatch it out of the air and wing it back, at the same speed.

Steve Rogers has posed:
A bark of laughter echoes off the wall. Steve scrabbles for the blurred sphere after hearing the near-gunshot sound of it bouncing off the wall. A grunt as he catches it and he whips it back, fully committed to earning himself that last point and submitting Barnes to the indignity of potential wedgie picking for 72 hours.

"You're gonna give Janet a jealous streak!" he manages, nearly going knee-down as he lands and quickly tries to ready himself for the return throw.

James Barnes has posed:
He's got his adrenaline fired up, and for all that it's a game they've played for ages, there's that intensity there. So Buck wings it back with a scoop of his metal hand, right into the center of the wall court. It makes another loud *pop* - surely he didn't break it? Then it's a blurred streak of motion, heading back towards Steve.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Impact off the metal palm gives the handball more vector and speed yet even that a raw swat from Steve's serum-boosted hand. He leaps and stretches out to stop the flight of the projectile, but alas: there it goes, tipping his fingers and arcing off into the grass. Stumbling again with a few heavy steps, he gives Bucky a friendly sneer.

"You got lucky, punk," he breathes, heartrate up enough that his ribs rise and fall. A jogging lope brings him to get the ball and with vigor he does dart back onto the court, all the better to wing the handball with all the force he can manage. Whift-POP -- there it goes, arcing high with the amount of backspin to cut its flight short of out of bounds.

James Barnes has posed:
Lili is up and dancing, delighted...and when it comes her way, she leaps up and grabs it. And then chomps it into its next incarnation. "It's okay," James says. "I got way more." He's a bit flushed, and cheerful. "This is fun. Thanks for coming to play. Like old times, only better. In the old days, you'd'a been wheezing like a steam locomotive after something like this." Then he's ambling over to get his own water bottle, before offering it to Steve.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve, very ready to lay himself out belly-down on the court to spare himself the chance at wearing tights for three days, watches in shock as Lili the Devastator destroys the handball. He comes up short in his readied dart towards the wall and laughs breathlessly, hands yet again on his hips.

"Dunno if I would've made it past the second point," the man admits, very able to remember those times when his lungs simply wanted to give up. He meanders over and takes the offered water bottle to squirt a mouthful or two in counter to cotton-tongue. It's offered back to Bucky. "Y'know this makes it a tie." Rather ruefully, he adds, "'nd it means both of us have to wear the tights since your helper decided to help."

Lili gets an amused side-eyeing where she lies happily squeaking teeth against the mangled rubber. Eeky-eeky-eeky-eeky-eeky...eeky-eeky.

James Barnes has posed:
Buck lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender, sighing. "Fair enough, fair enough. Ballet tights on my end?" he asks, giving Steve a hopeful look. "They've got, uh, support." Ho boy.

Lili just grins at them, still happily destroying the thing, reducing it to little shreds. "Man, I need to get her a new Kong, I guess. She's usually really good about that."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"If you're wearing ballet tights, then I get ballet tights too," the Captain notes. Swiping his forearm across his brow, he shakes his head and laughs down at his sneakers. "Those don't seem like they'd be much trouble. Almost tactical. I bet I can order 'em easily enough, Janet's got my measurements written down somewhere."

For proper fitting of dress pants, people, get your heads out of the gutter.

He does give Destructo-Lili another glance. "A new Kong or maybe a tractor tire."

James Barnes has posed:
"A....tractor tire?" Bucky says, turning to peer at Steve, accusingly. "For my princess? Who do you think I am, Steven? Nothing but the finest virgin rubber for my fluffy darling. I mean, yeah, you and I grew up making do and chewing on bike tires when there was nothing better, but....sheesh."

He snorts. "Ballet tights, sure. We'll do it."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Lifting his hands up in defeat, the blond super-soldier just laughs. More slobber-coated pieces of rubber fall from Lili's lips as she continues chewing, brown eyes soulfully upon the two men, and it makes him chortle all the more.

"Uncle Steve'll get you a tractor tire for your birthday, Princess Lili, don't worry. Your handler's not letting you have junk food, but I hear uncles are allowed to spoil the kids." Bucky gets a friendly patpat cuffing to the shoulder. "Ballet tights," he confirms. "We'll suffer together."