ArchivedLogs:Team Meeting

Team Meeting
With a lot of odd requests.
Dramatis Personae Shane, Sebastian, Spencer, Jackson, Micah
In Absentia	4 May 2013 Saturday night dinner at Holland-house! Shane has...an announcement?
Location <NYC> 303 {Holland} - Village Lofts - East Village
<NYC> 303 {Holland} - Village Lofts - East Village This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late bright coloured sealife has made its way into being painted on the wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Shane is being helpful! In the kitchen, with dinner preparation underway, sneeeakily acting as sous chef to get the tedious work done before Jackson enters to turn raw ingredients into deliciousness. He has chopped a mound of garlic and is now chopping onions, inner eyelids closed against their fumes. There are tears leaking out of his eyes /anyway/. But chop. Chopchopchop. He's dressed much as he has been all day -- neat pale linen trousers, neat dark vest. He's shed his shirt, though, the attire less formal for the fact that his otherwise-dapper vest is worn over bare skin. Sebastian is /also/ helpful, though his preparation is for the pets rather than the humans. Getting out cat food, getting out dog food, washing out their old bowls to refill them. He's at the washing stage of this currently. He's also humming quietly to himself as he washes. His attire is lighter, summery-yellow sleeveless top embroidered with darker yellow butterflies, a knee-length teal skirt. His eyes have been dusted with shimmery silvery-teal, too. It's all very domestic though both the twins sport a wealth of bruising, at the moment. Some scraped cuts stark against their blue skin. Spencer is not really helping. Or, he /is/ in that he is /distracting/ the pets, careening around the living room with Obie chasing after him (or sometimes with him chasing after Obie.) Jackson is only just returning from work. He has his thick boxy portfolio-bag slung against his hip and is also dressed pretty summery, pale yellow capri pants and a clingy purple top whose flowy sleeves are kind of butterfly-esque. His hair is vividly multicoloured, dyed and spiked to call to mind a bird of paradise, and he's /finally/ replaced his broken sunglasses with a similarly large mirrory pair that, as he opens the door and enters, his fingers are rubbing beneath tiredly. The tired eases as he slips inside, spends a quiet moment taking off his sneakers and just watching. His expression goes from exhausted to smile in pretty much nothing flat. Micah has so cleverly spotted Jax from across the street! This...may have been facilitated by receiving directions to be approximately here at approximately now. He quietly stalks him into the building, however, for the added effect of showing up /just/ after him. Timing! There is a moment of fussing key in lock, so that no one has to leave their stations to open the door. And then there is a Micah! He is in his usual green canvas jacket, over a Reading Rainbow-Dash T-shirt and jeans patched in random fabrics. He has come bearing a container of strawberries and another of early-season blueberries! Because he has a habit of showing up with sugar. The people in the room are waved at. With /berries/. "HIhihi!" "Hi pa!" The twins chime this in chorus from the kitchen; Spencer, for his part, leads the /charge/. Obie is fast on his heels as the boy rockets across the room for an incoming /tackle/ hug. Careening headlong into Jax steals most of his momentum, so Micah's hug (because Micah is /totally/ getting a hug next) is slightly less /forceful/ -- but only slightly. "Miiiiicah," Spencer is greeting, "we're making dinner." It's a collective enterprise. He's including himself in this. "Well," Shane demurs, "we're chopping shit. Micah there too? Micah. YO." Sniff sniff. The onions are throwing off his sniffing. He blinks back tears. "Hi, Micah." Sebastian is quieter about this greeting. He pokes his head out from the kitchen to examine the newcomers with a small smile. "Hi -- hi -- hi -- hi!" Jackson's smile goes from small-content to brightbrightbright with the successive greetings. He drops a hand, curling it around Spencer's shoulders to squeeze and then release the boy to deliver further hugs. "Woahhh, you guys didn't have to -- I mean /thanks/ -- I mean I woulda --" His nose crinkles. He stops his protesting to add to the Micah-hugs, tight; unlike Spencer's, his comes with a peck to the cheek. But then he's examining the scene in the kitchen more /closely/, and, "Oh /gosh/ what did y'all /do/." Above the rims of his glasses his brows are furrowing as he looks at the twins' cuts and bruises. "Oh gosh y'should -- take care of -- I can cook, you -- what happened?" Berry containers find themselves settled /quickly/ onto a convenient surface when there is incoming Spencer. Because kidhugs are the best hugs. "Speeeence!" Spencer is swept off his feet and spun around a full 360 degrees before he finds himself back on the floor. Like nothing happened. Also, there are Jax-hugs! But these are more squeezy and less spinny. "Oh yay, dinner! I brought dessert!" Micah takes a moment to pull off his shoes and jacket, leaving these near the door before delivering the berries to the kitchen. Presuming there is a clear bit of counter somewhere to leave them on. Jax's comment earns the twins a second look. "Ouch...yeah. Is everybody okay?" Spencer /giggles/ and giggles some more at the spinning, squeezing Micah and laughing kind of /exhilarated/ at this. "Micah! Bastian says once we fix Jerusalem he's going to build me a /rocketpony/." "I -- I didn't /promise/ rockets," Sebastian says with a crinkle of his nose, "but we can /try/ --" "We're fine," Shane assures the adults bright and toothy-grinning. "They bit /each other/," Spencer adds, gnashing his own teeth in demonstration. Chompchomp. "They were just bein' /sharky/." "We're always sharky. I got all the ingredients out, um," Bastian is glancing around the kitchen even as he fills the petbowls with food. "For channa. Not for dogfood," Shane clarifies. "And, yeah, we just, kind of, sparred -- /hey/! Micah! Question!" Sebastian shoots Shane an /alarmed/ look when he says he has a question. He doesn't even know what the question is. He's just alarmed by /default/. "Oh -- oh. Sparring." Jackson's nose wrinkles and though he gives the injuries another cursory look his worry has, at least, dissipated. Mostly. Healingfactor helps with worry but only /partly/ because still: "Ow." But he slips around into the kitchen, preemptively stealing berries (with sort of a /guilty/ look) even though they are for dessert and dinner isn't even cooked yet. "Channa! I can do channa Micah, do you like channa." He deposits a kiss on the cheek of either twin. "/Rocket/-pony? That sounds awesome. Like a rideable one or like a Jerusalem-sized one?" He's noooot at all worried about a fullsized rocketpony in their house, nope. Just asking. Casual. "Ohmygosh can we /paint/ it? Can it be a /Rainbow Dash/ rocketpony?" With this thought he is abruptly Totally On Board with the rocketpony train. "Rocket /pegasus/ pony? Because that would be perfect!" Micah is grinning broadly at that idea. Or, perhaps, that the twins were just /consensually/ sort-of injured. From sharkiness. Regardless, there is grinning! "Yeeeah, bitin' happens, sometimes." Shane earns a quirked brow. "Question?" But Micah is marching right along with /other/ questions. Shane will have to sneak his in somewhere. "Ohgosh, yes, channa! I like food. Especially spicyfoods." Jax's berrytheft has him giggling already. Do not get between Jax and sugary things! "Yeah!" This might not have been the original plan but since it's been mentioned, now it is /totally/ the plan! "Rocket /pegasus/ pony! Rainbow Dash rocket pony! /Pa/, Shelby's going to give me /tattoos/! I can get a Jerusalem tattoo /and/ a /rocketpony/ tattoo." "You should put some of Pa's art on, too," Shane suggests. "Cool. Channa. Uh. Well, we've --" He gestures with his knife towards the kitchen and its assortment of Chopped Things. "Cut. Shit up. That's -- about as far as I know how to --" He shrugs. "Biting happens a lot," Sebastian is blushing deeply as he admits this. "But he just. Sometimes," he explains earnestly, gesturing at his brother with a can of cat food, "you just have to bite him." Shane bares his teeth at Sebastian. "Oh! Oh yeah. /Micah/. Can you make me a prosthetic /finger/." "... just one?" Spencer is confused by this, but that doesn't stop him from asking, "... can I have one /too/?" "A -- finger." Jackson blinks. And sneaks a strawberry this time to go with his pilfered handful of blueberries. But then he's slipping around to put a pan on the stove, oil it, start tossing spices into a smaller pan to toast them. "... just one?" His question is the same as Spencer's. Except he's /also/ blushing, his nose crinkling up as he glances briefly at Micah. "Biting happens sometimes, yeah. Sometimes it's just time for biting." His rubs at the back of his neck, adjusting the heat beneath his pan and then stepping aside to wash his hands. Giggling is pretty much an ongoing activity, barely interrupted for talking. Because, hee! Ponies and bitings and foods! "Choppin's helpful, saves a lot of time." Micah is sort of hovering at the edge of the kitchen, trying to stay out of the way because it is /so full of people/ now. "A...what?" Shane's question manages to draw an inquisitive look. Mostly at Shane's hands...which have their full complement of digits. "Why d'you need a finger? That's a strange request, hafta say." He does manage to spare an /innocent/ look for Jax at the blushing and glancing. Doot-de-doo... "/Because/," Shane says with a longsuffering sigh. He lifts a webbed hand, waggling his own joined-together fingers. He curls his first finger downward, just slightly; it only moves a fraction of an inch before, by necessity, the other fingers are curling with it. "It's a serious handicap. Uh. No -- offense," he's adding with an awkward frown and glance at Micah's leg. "Huge hardship in your life," Sebastian agrees with this with a slight twitch of lips. /Both/ the twins are exchanging a look at the thought of biting, and the grin Shane gives Micah is bright. "There's /never/ enough biting in life," he says lightly. Sebastian slips out of the kitchen, going to put the pets' food and water bowls on the ground near the fish tank. "Can I have /berries/?" Spencer is climbing up onto a stool by the counter, leaning in to put his face Very Close to the blueberries without actually eating some. "Micah can you make /me/ a /laser/ hand?" "You should work at Iolaus's clinic when it opens," Shane decides /for/ Micah, "you're way --" he looks at Jax, and his grin does not /dim/, "--/friendly/ with the freaks." Sebastian's nose wrinkles at this. He blushes slightly. "I don't know how many people will, um, need -- well." He rubs at the back of his neck. "Actually I guess /we/ already know a /bunch/ of people who need things so maybe --" "You do not need a prosthetic middle finger," Jackson tells Shane. He looks kind of amused, though. He's starting to hum quietly to himself as he toasts spices and puts the onions in the pan to start frying. "Laser hand, though, I think everyone needs one'a those. Y'know, the clinic ain't opening for forever yet. An' Micah's /got/ two jobs to focus on that's kinda a lot of job already." Micah's lips are pressed tight trying not to laugh at Shane's...request. "Honey, there are as many gestures as you could possibly /want/ that don't need..." He waves his hand to complete the sentence. "Consider it an exercise in expressive creativity." A shake of his head is intended to dismiss any concern about offense. "Ask your pa," is his response to the berry question. "An' it would be easy enough to make a wrist-mounted laser pointer, if you're just lookin' for hands-free plus lasers." Shane's recommendation has Micah nodding again. "I do mean to talk at him eventually...Jax's right about it bein' forever before they're ready for clinicians to do anythin', though. It'd be an easy enough thing to do contract work there same as I do with the hospitals I work with now. Since I focus mostly on specialized populations as it is... I mean, I been workin' with people already with /no/ fundin' and it's beyond frustratin'. Tryin' to get somethin' worked out for Horus, for example... Man. Just havin' to wait and wait on things to get /started/. If he's actually gonna have ways to fund folks, we could really get as inventive as we need to be." He chuckles a bit at Jax. "Y'know, the second job right now is just helpin' make ends meet. Get enough /payin'/ work on the first one an' the second can step down over time." "Nooo, lasers like /Pa's/ lasers," Spencer explains patiently, "Pa, can I have berries?" "Yeah but that one's universal," Shane says, /so huffily/ (although the laughter in his voice suggests this is not a /genuine/ teenage sulk. "/I/ don't make fun of /your/ disability." "... yeah you do," Sebastian says with a wrinkle of his nose, "You make fun of /everyone/." "Wellok," Shane agrees, "but that just means if I /didn't/ make fun of him it'd be singling him /out/." Sebastian doesn't argue with this logic, though he does scrub a hand against his eye. "Micah," Shane is gearing up for a /question/ again, "do you keep the leg o--" "-- you really going to work at the clinic maybe?" Sebastian cuts in. Hastily. "/I/ want to work there. But. They probably want me to be a doctor or something." "Micah's not a doctor," Shane says. "Or something!" Sebastian answers. "But there's like a /million/ years of school first." Shane fidgets at this. "I -- weshouldtalkaboutschool," he says suddenly to Jax. Jackson isn't facepalming through any of this by sheer virtue of the fact he is tending a pan full of onions. But his face does scrunch up in a wince, even if his smile is amused. "You get the first one off the ground proper and maybe you'll make yourself time to actually sleep," he says lightly. "And, Spence, you can have a couple berries. Just a couple, you can have the rest after the meal." His brow furrows, though, just a little: "... about school? What's up, love?" "Oh, no...sorry, Spence. Your pa's lasers are beyond my abilities, I'm afraid." Micah takes a side-step to get close enough to ruffle Spencer's hair. Shane's aborted question has him blushing (really, it isn't /difficult/ to accomplish) without needing to be completed. But! Open dialogue about disability is a personal policy. "Depends," he answers simply...because there are still child-ears in the room. So, Micah's transition to answering 'Bastian might be a little quick! "It's somethin' I've thought about. Don't mean no guarantees on it, though. Who's 'they'?" He quiets when Shane spits out the all-one-word need for serious discussions. "-- depends on what?" Shane is pressing and now it seems more genuinely curious than voyeuristic. "They-the clinic-Doctor Saavedro-they," Sebastian answers, "Doctor Saavedro says he might come teach at my school -- that'd probably be interesting, he's -- smart." His curls his fingers through his hair. Spencer is reaching for the whole /container/ of blueberries, and Shane is kind of distractedly shepherding this to be in line with Jax's 'a couple' by scooping out a small handful to drop into Spencer's hand instead, shifting the containers to the other side of the counter. "Um," Shane says, "Just. I think. I'm going to drop out." Spencer's eyes widen. "Of /school/? Can you /do/ that?" He doesn't seem like this is an idea he /likes/, vaguely wide-eyed-horrified at the thought: /he/ maybe takes after the more studious of the twins. "Of school," Sebastian agrees a little glumly. Perhaps they've already /had/ this discussion because he doesn't seem surprised by the announcement. If a little sad. Spencer slides off the stool with his handful of blueberries to go tug at Micah's sleeve. "I bet Bastian could help with the lasers," he confides, maaaybe Just Slightly Overestimating his brother's technical prowess, "and /you/ could make it into a /hand/." He eats a blueberry, then offers the handful towards Micah for Sharing. The question makes Jax blush, too, turning his gaze down to his pan. "'tween the lot of you you're gonna make a cyborg army an' take over the /world/." He is -- probably more surprised by Shane's announcement than Sebastian, he freezes in his food-tending and there's a brief ripple of lights. But he's decidedly calm in answering, at least: "Why?" "Help or hindrance...like with anythin' else," Micah continues with both the blushing and the being a little vague around the child-ears. "Got a lot of metal'n poky bits involved to always be entirely comfortable...you're a clever one, sure y'can work it out." He switches gears to address 'Bastian again. "S'more a matter of what /you/ want, ain't it? Big decision t'be lettin' Theys make for you." Shane's announcement earns a frown, but Micah doesn't comment. He /does/ pluck a single blueberry from Spencer's pile when they're offered. Munchmunch. "Well, yeah but. I mean. S'good to know what a job is looking for if I -- want that job, right? Learning is fun but school's kind of a means to an end." Sebastian shrugs, leaning against the counter to watch Jax cook. Shane fidgets. His hand rubs at the back of his neck. His eyes flick, between his brothers, between Jax, between Micah, too, including him kind of automatically in his quiet, "-- can we um maybe sit down?" He gestures to the kitchen table. Jackson's brow furrows, expression creasing with a deepening of concern. He scrapes at his pan, pours a little water in along with the tomatoes and chickpeas, and covers it to let it simmer, turning the heat down. His fingers run through his hair. When he takes his seat it is with posture a little curled-up, one leg tucked beneath him and the other pulled up towards his chest. He is largely just frowning, here. And also trying /not/ to frown which leads to a fluctuating scrunch-relax-scrunch of expression. "You wantin' that would be the important part, though, yeah," Micah says to 'Bastian with a smile. Shane's glance seems to include him in the request for a team meeting. Clearly his role in this is as Spencer delivery system. He snags the little one up, by one arm around the waist, with the practiced ease of someone who spends an awful lot of time hauling children around. He's just sort of carrying him like an oversized paper-wrapped package to deposit him on a chair. Thunk. Micah takes the seat next to him, half-falling into it in a boneless manner. Spencer does not object to this manhandling, kind of grinning at it as he eats another blueberry. He has older brothers. He is manhandled all the /time/. He scoots his chair nearer Micah's once they are seated, quietly sneaking another blueberry into Micah's hand. "You can't go to the ocean again," he informs the twins. Shane looks -- kind of guilty at this littlebrother reprimand, ducking his head. "Yeahno. I don't. I didn't. We're not --" He shakes his head, curling into a seat opposite Jax. Sebastian takes the one beside Shane and sort of automatically reaches to curl his hand into his twin's. Squeeze. "It's just -- since getting back it --" Shane takes a deep breath, lets it out again. "It's been hard, you know, I kind of blew the fuck up at the dragonkid who killed Eli and then /his/ advisor came to tell me how stupid and immature and animalistic I am and, uh," His head ducks again, sheepish, hand rubbing uncomfortably at his gills as his other squeezes Sebastian's. "And I fucking hate her but she's not -- /wrong/ exactly. I mean I don't know. It just. Made me think a lot, you know, and -- this whole school thing is really /dumb/ sorry Bastian but I don't mean that in the normal way everyone's /supposed/ to think high school is dumb. I mean I could go through and get /his/ grades," he squeezes his brother's hand again, "and be a model student in every way and you think that's going to mean shit to colleges I apply to? Jobs I apply for?" His head shakes, slightly. "Diploma or no diploma, people are going to look at me my entire life and think animal before they think anything else. That's been true everywhere I've ever been and if it's fucking true at /Xavier's/ of all places it's sure as shit not going to be different anywhere else." The sprinkling of cursing through his words is not, evidently, indicative of any kind of anger; he's speaking pretty calmly, just sort of blandly stated. "I don't belong there, that -- was made /really/ clear. I'm not -- really actually sure where I belong but I don't think high school's going to help one way or another with it. I've -- been working. Um. For Mel at Montagues for a while, I didn't want to /tell/ you because you'd freak out that you weren't doing enough but I /know/ money's tight and I think I'm more help there than I will be pretending like biology homework is going to make people /not/ think of me as an animal. I'll get my GED if -- I mean I don't need classes for that. I just. I don't. Want to go back." "Um." At first that is the only reaction from Jackson. He's removed his sunglasses to actually look properly at the boys and his eye narrows as Shane speaks. Beneath the table, his fingers curl tight into fists. "Who told you --" There's a hard edge in his voice but he draws in a slow breath, swallows, slowly unclenches his fists. The news of Shane's job has him opening his mouth and closing it again just as quickly. Proooobably preempting himself from freaking out that he's Not Doing Enough. There's silence. Another deep breath. Jax lifts his hand, pressing his palm against his eye. "Shane --" He hesitates, slumping tiredly forward to rest his elbows against the table. "I ain't gonna lie to you and say that it's -- you already know way better'n I do what doors close before anyone knows anything 'bout you 'cept how you look. And I wish that weren't true but the world -- is. What it is. And there /are/ good people out there and there /are/ chances for you but --" His hands are curling into fists again. Hard-clenched enough to leave nail marks in his palm when he finally unclenches one. And then sneakily reach towards Micah though then he pulls his hand back, just dropping it back into his lap. His voice is even, though, if kind of soft. "It's your decision to make for yourself. Not finishing high school will probably close /more/ doors, though, and /I/ don't want to see you with any less opportunities just cuz --" His gaze lowers. "You ain't an animal. And anyone who /says/ somethin' like that to you clearly don't know you at all. But I do. An' I know you're capable of a whole lot of /great/ and maybe -- I can only /hope/ one day the world'll catch /up/." More blueberry! Munchmunch. Spencer gets another hair mussing in return. Micah makes a displeased sort of judgemental face at the repeated word choice from the advisor. /Not/ appropriate. He is already reaching a hand out to Jax, under the table, when he starts going fish-faced pre-freak out. Should he want it. He remains silent through the Parenting Moment, though he nods a few times in agreement. Shane's gills ripple at the sides of his neck and the breath he lets out is heavy. Kind of /relieved/, though, perhaps this is not the answer he was expecting. "I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't -- want to -- I mean I /wanted/ to --" He blinks, eyes bright as his gaze drops. "I think you're the /best/ animal," is Spencer's comment, but then, Spencer wants to be a shark. The twins shoot him crooked grins in tandem, but Shane's is a little watery. "I don't -- I'm not /going/ anywhere this time I -- and Bastian's staying in school and -- but I just --" He has run out of words, though. He doesn't say any more. He slumps back against the chair. "I don't know. Is this dumb? Am I dumb?" Sebastian squeezes his hand again. "... I think that teacher was pretty dumb," he says, looking a little WIDE-EYED at his daring in saying this. Teacher! Dumb! "... but I'll miss you, there." /This/ makes Shane's expression crumple. For a moment. Then he looks upward, fixing his gaze firmly on the ceiling. "Sorry," he's apologizing to Jax and Micah both. "There's dinner and I interrupted and. But. You're. Not. Mad?" Jackson takes Micah's hand, squeezes it /tight/, his own too-warm and a little shaky. Just a little. He exhales a slow breath, shaking his head. "Mad? Honey-honey, I --" His fingers lace through Micah's, and he drops his gaze to the table, then lifts it back to look at the twins. "Yeah. I'm -- I'm pretty furious, actually. But I'm kinda mad at the /world/. Not you. I -- /I/ want you to stay in school. I want a lot of things for you and I don't know how to --" His jaw clenches. He drops back heavily into a slump in his chair, in unconscious mirror of Shane's posture. "I don't think I'm gonna /stop/ being mad till the world's a safe place for you to live. But I ain't mad at /you/. I -- s'probably maybe a decision you've thought /through/ plenty but if it -- if you've really given it thought and it's what you want I --" The squeeze of his hand in Micah's is probably edging towards painful. "-- m'your family. We ain't gonna /stop/ being here for you. Help you /make/ a life and /screw/ what the rest of the world tells you." Shane's repeated apologies finally prompt Micah to speak, if only to reassure, "No apologies, hon. You're not interruptin' nothin'." He presses back at Jax's hand when it squeezes. And when Jax squeezes harder...well, he has a high pain threshold in that way that people who go through a lot of medical procedures in childhood often come to. Micah lifts the hand to his lips, lightly placing a kiss there. "I might should go stir things a bit to make sure nothin's stickin', though," he adds by way of excusing himself to do just that. It's a quick enough errand. Shane exhales, heavily, at this reassurance. "OK," he says, quiet, pressing his palms to rub against his eyes. "I'll -- OK. I mean if you think --" He swallows. "I guess I'll. Think about. It. And maybe -- I don't know. I need a smoke," he grumbles, standing with one last squeeze of Sebastian's hand to slip away from the table, ruffling Spencer's hair on his way. Sebastian drops his head into his hands. Just for a moment, and then he looks back up with a small smile that doesn't really touch his black eyes. "He's probably the smart one," he admits wryly. "But I can still dream about MIT even if --" He shrugs. His legs curl up next to his chest. "You can make robots there," Spencer says cheerfully. "That's where /I'm/ going to go." This does draw a bigger smile from Bastian. "Yeah," he agrees, quiet. "Yeah, I bet you will." He leans forward, arms crossing on the table and his cheek pillowing against the crook of his elbow. His eyes follow Micah as the older man gets up. It's a steady silent sort of consideration, eyes drifting between Micah and Jax quietly. And then closing. Jax stands, when Shane does, not saying anything more but wrapping his arms around Shane tight and squeezing because he is not getting away without a /hug/. But after this his fingers scuff through his hair restlessly, his smile kind of wan. "Not every school's terrible. Maybe you'll go to MIT. But you'll still be brilliant even without 'em." He watches Micah. And watches Bastian watch Micah. It puts a faint thoughtful crease in his brow and a faint flush of colour in his cheeks but then he stands, leaning down to kiss Sebastian on the forehead. "That don't go no less for you, honey-honey. Choices /you/ make in life, m'gonna be right here to see you through 'em." For Spencer, just a grin. "Iiiii think any college'll be thrilled to have you. In. A decade." Apparently Micah's food-stirring activities are being observed by quite an audience! Stir. It isn't terribly exciting. He places the lid back on the pan for ongoing simmering purposes and wanders back to the table. He leans on the back of his chair rather than sitting down. "Y'can make robots lots of places. But they are pretty enthusiastic about 'em there. S'a good plan." A little smile pulls at the corners of his mouth at the hugs and kisses and hair-rufflings going on. Shane sinks into the hug, wraps his arms around Jax to hug back /tightly/. And then intercepts Micah's wandering path back to the table with one, too, a fierce squeeze that holds a lot more strength than his wiry-skinny arms suggest they should contain. But then he's wandering back to his room (scrubbing at too-bright eyes with his knuckles) and grabbing his pack of cigarettes to disappear to the fire escape before anyone can hear him sniffling. Sebastian's cheeks flush, slightly, as he drops his eyes away from Micah. A small smile curls at his lips for Jax's words. His only answer is to get up, squeeze Spence's shoulder. "C'mon. We could work on Jerusalem some more before dinner's ready." This makes Spencer's eyes light as he wriggles out of his chair. Seriousbusiness talks are forgotten because there are /robots/ to work on. He pops his last blueberry into his mouth. "I'm going to make robots right /here/," he tells Micah, but then he's /dragging/ Sebastian off towards the bedroom. Which leaves Jax, alone with Micah in the kitchen. He exhales a long shaky breath. His fingers scrunch into his hair. "-- Food's not burnin'?" He glances back towards the pan. Then towards Micah. Micah reciprocates Shane's hug, holding him tightly until the teen makes signs that he wishes to move away. "Happy roboting!" he calls after Spence and 'Bastian, grinning broadly. Then... well, it got less crowded here quite quickly! Jax's shakiness is immediately bolstered with Micah-hugs! This is a hugging group. "Some of the sauce was startin' to stick, but it took up well with some stirrin'. No harm done." "Yeah. Thank you. No -- harm done," Jackson echoes softly, curling his arms around Micah and holding tight. He makes no move to check in on his food, just tips his head down to press his face against Micah's neck. He's quiet, breathing slowly, his fingers tracing lightly against Micah's back. "... who the hell would tell him he's like an animal?" His tone isn't quiet-calm anymore as it was when the kids were at the table, just clipped and hard and angry in sharp contrast to his usual gentle tone. He exhales sharply. "It'd be real /nice/ to tell him that he's being dumb and he should stop angstin' and stay in school," he says, kind of tired-wry. And then, with a more hopeful note: "... It'd be /real/ terrible of me to eat all the berries right now wouldn't it?" Micah's arm wraps around Jax's waist and pulls him closer. "My sincere hope is that isn't exactly what the person /said/, since they're an advisor at a damned /school/ for kids that /specifically/ have unique needs. Y'gotta...language is important and they should be modellin' better behaviour. Shane said it was 'dragon-kid's advisor'? Should be able to figure out who it is, since you teach there. Have a talkin'-to." His other hand rubs comforting circles on Jax's back. "It'd be best for him to stay in. It's like...there's prob'ly gonna be more places that'll hire. If this clinic gets finished, for example, they'll need lots of staff that aren't even medical. But y'need a diploma to get hired for /anything/." He sighs heavily. "I can play gatekeeper to limit your berry intake. Should save some for the kids t'have later." "I hope it ain't what they said," Jackson agrees, kind of muffled against Micah's shoulder. "I mean, Shane ain't never /not/ been honest with me but also seein' things through /hurt/-eyes is sometimes kinda -- skewed." His fingers curl up into Micah's shirt, and for a while he is quiet. When he finally speaks again, the hard edge has bled out of his tone. "It'd be best," he agrees. "I ain't -- I don't know. I mean, I s'pose I could just /make/ him but I -- /I'd/ like him to stay. In the end, though, s'his --" He stops, exhales again sharply. "... I'm a pretty terrible parent. I should just /make/ him." But he doesn't really sound like he /intends/ to do that. "I --" Here he is more hesitant, lifting his head to meet Micah's eyes. "-- thank you." "Not that I think he wasn't tellin' the truth at all, no. It's just...sometimes /summarisin'/ things through your own impressions can colour exactly which words were used. But maybe not. I'm just.../hopin'/ it was more misinterpretation than what actually happened." Micah kisses Jax's head softly. "At best, y'can only /really strongly/ suggest things. It's not like tyin' him up and stuffin' him in a classroom is gonna help. Might...be useful to conference with folks at the school about it. They got a counsellor?" He locks eyes with Jax to add firmly, "You /are not/ a terrible parent. You gotta stop sayin' that." "We got counsellors, yeah. Might be useful though. Not if people there've been making him feel like --" Jackson presses his lips together hard. He drops his forehead to rest against Micah's. "Kinda feel like it a lot. But -- it's -- kinda a terrible world. Sometimes." There are smokey tendrils of shadow starting to curl up his forearms, cling dark and wispy against his legs. "Y'know, I -- you --" Abruptly, he blushes, fierce and deep red, squeezing his eye shut. Squeezing Micah a little harder. "It's worth a try, at least. Before he goes abandonin' hope altogether. Maybe everybody just needs to have a talk-it-out. Though...I do kinda think most things can be solved by talkin', so's prob'ly a personal prejudice at play there." Micah offers up a little smile with the touch of playfulness in his tone, in attempt at lightness. "I--you didn't finish your sentence," is gently teasing, the hand rubbing Jax's back shifting position to walk tickly fingers up his spine. "Be nice if everything could be solved by talkin'." Jackson closes his eye again. A slight shiver passes up his spine at the movement of Micah's fingers, and he twitches up a lopsided smile. "I just --" His blush is fiercer, spreading out to tint the air around them. "I -- am -- I'm glad. That you -- were here. /Are/ here. For -- I mean that was -- sort of a family, um -- I don't know how you felt about -- it was kind of a big --" His fingers curl a little tighter into Micah's shirt. "I'm just glad," he says softly. Micah's cheeks pick up a faint pink of their own, a sort of empathetic blushing as Jax hasn't managed to complete a thought yet. So many sentences cut off in their infancy! "I'm glad to be here." He nuzzles his chin against Jax's shoulder. "So long as it's not, y'know, an intrusion on...things..." /That/ was specific. "It wasn't -- I mean, Shane wanted you to stay and --" Jax's blush remains. "And I'm glad you did," is softer, "I -- you're --" The red that is leaking from him is brightening. He scrunches his eye shut tight, opening it again to glance over towards the simmering pan on the stove. "... I cook for you," he admits abruptly, sudden and kind of shy. "When you -- I mean, when I. At meals. I always count extra like you're going to be here and I don't -- think I even notice I'm doin' it except nights when you ain't there's -- too much extra." His hand lifts so rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Sorry," he mumbles, "that's -- I just -- you -- ain't never intruding." "Y'know, I was kinda surprised he's ended up bein' the huggy one," Micah muses idly. Actual, completed thoughts lead to a more legitimate, intense colouring of his skin, pink deepening to red. "I... if that's a... I can be here more. I was just tryin' not to crowd. 'Specially when the kids first came back. Family time, y'know? An' with the twins feelin' like the whole world is tryin' to chase 'em off... I just wanna make sure this stays safe space for them." "He's definitely the huggy one," Jax says, "I mean they both are if they /trust/ you but Bastian -- doesn't -- trust most people," his voice drops lower as he glances over towards Spencer's bedroom door. "I -- I appreciate that, though, they -- they been through a /lot/, it -- ain't real surprising it don't take much to make 'em rabbit off again." His hand lifts, cupping the side of Micah's face, thumb brushing against the older man's cheek. "It -- it /is/ family time," he says, softer and shyer. "It's -- still family time when you're here." Micah nods. "That's what I mean. I don't want him t'feel like he's gotta be lookin' over his shoulder when he's at home, 'cause there's folks as he don't trust yet takin' over his space." His hand is back to working circles between Jax's shoulder blades. "There's no rush to push 'em." His head turns into the other man's touch. "That's sweet of you t'say." Micah barely waits for the words to be out of his mouth before pressing a soft kiss to Jax's, attached to the sentence like punctuation. "No -- no, I don't want to push 'em, I just -- he seemed like he wanted you there and I --" Jackson's red is not fading, and his words cut off into this kiss. His hand drops to Micah's hip, his smile brief but warm. He squeezes Micah briefly closer. "S'just -- true." He kisses Micah again, light, and then finally detaches himself from the other man. Because there is cooking still to do.