ArchivedLogs:Role Confusion

Role Confusion
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah
In Absentia	25 November 2013 Life is confusing. (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <XS> Chimera Room - FL2
The guest rooms at Xavier's are spacious and comfortable, well-furnished suites readied for visitors. A mid-sized guest suite, its sitting room is large but its bathroom and two accompanying bedrooms -- one a queen, one holding two full beds -- snug and cozy. Its windows look out over the front yard, providing a wide view of the forests and lake in the distance. In here the decor is subdued, tawny golds and ash-grey stone with hints of green thrown here and there to brighten it. Monstrous creatures prowl the room's artwork, amalgam in shape -- lion heads, dragon wings, scorpion tails; small glass figurines hunch on the bookshelf and hang painted on the walls. It’s daytime on Monday, and classes back in session means that the school is -- if noisy again -- at least kind of /orderly/ about it, quiet in between the bells and running on a /schedule/. A schedule that Shane is clearly ignoring; he probably should be in class right now. Maybe even Jax’s class, who knows! Even /Spencer/ is in class. But instead he is here in Jax and Micah’s guest suite, curled up in a corner of the couch with his violin in hand. There’s some very late breakfast on the table in front of him, cold strips of roasted venison, though they’ve been barely touched. He’s dressed like it is classtime, pinstriped slacks and dress shirt and bowtie and vest. His laptop is open beside the plate of food; there’s been an episode of The Walking Dead playing, though it’s currently paused. He’s got his phone out instead, his bow set aside on the arm of the couch so that he can send a text message. Micah opens the door to the suite without knocking, fully expecting the room to be empty. He is returning from another morning of fishing, as is entirely too evident by the lingering fish smell clinging to him after cleaning the fish and dropping them off at the kitchens. His olive green jacket is slung over one shoulder, long-sleeved blue and green plaid button down shirt open over a white T-shirt, faded-patchy jeans worn over hiking boots. His auburn hair is now in a state that may qualify as a /spectacular/ mess. The coat finds its way to a hook before Micah notices Shane is in the room. “Hey, Shane...do you have a free period right now or somethin’?” Shane hits send and sets his phone down beside his bow on the couch’s arm. “Oh my god.” His words come out in kind of a shivery breath; he sounds, for a moment, /delighted/. He stretches his free hand out, beckoning Micah closer. “You smell /delicious/.” He glances up only after this, shrugging a shoulder. “I’ve got six classes this term, I don’t have free periods.” He looks back at his phone to check the time, answering: “Russian right now. You catch a lot?” Shane’s reaction earns a chuckle from Micah. “Well, I’m not sure if that’s a better or worse reaction than everyone else shooin’ me off ‘cause I’m fish-smelly. I was actually comin’ up t’shower an’ change so I can exist in the world again.” He does move closer, reaching out to pet at Shane’s spiky hair. “Catch was pretty good. Usually goes well if I’m out there first thing in the mornin’ when it’s quiet an’ cold as all get out.” He frowns at Shane’s reply on class schedule. “There a reason you’re not in class? You feelin’ okay?” Shane closes his eyes, bumping his head up into the petting. His hand lifts, fingers curling around Micah’s wrist to pull his hand down, nuzzle against it with a deep breath. “Don’t. Shower just yet, you smell good.” He sets his violin on the table, tugging at Micah’s hand and patting the sofa cushion beside him. “Do you not exist now? You feel pretty solid to me.” His eyes stay closed, cheek pressed to the back of Micah’s hand. “{I feel great,}” he answers in Russian, “{why would I want to waste that in class?} -- who cares, anyway, it’s supposed to be break now. It’s not /my/ fault zombies ate our vacation.” “I’m not gonna argue too hard. Sittin’ for a minute actually sounds nice. Where there’s heat. Did I mention it’s cold out there?” Micah allows himself to be tugged down to the sofa. “I exist. I just meant that no one wanted me stickin’ around out there.” He gestures vaguely at the door with a lazy hand-wave. “Uh...languages are so very not my thing. You could’ve just said anythin’. Was that an assurance that you’re doin’ so well in that class that you’re too bored with it to go?” His lips quirk over to one side. “Classes got cancelled at a different time, is all. Worst vacation ever, but this is make-up time so y’all can get back on track.” “S’way too cold. I’ve been texting Anole but he hasn’t answered me or B in -- a long time. He doesn’t do well with cold.” Shane glances towards his phone with a frown, but then turns his attention back to Micah, nestling against the man’s side when Micah sits. “/I/ want you sticking around here. Except you smell /edible/ -- I guess if I’m being honest, though, everyone /always/ just smells like food.” Which might not be the /most/ reassuring as he nuzzles against Micah’s neck with a small rumble of growl that sounds distinctly more hungry than affectionate. “I said I feel good so fuck class,” he clarifies. “And I’m /always/ too bored with it to go. And seriously if you think an extra week of class is going to get /me/ back on track you’re even /more/ delusionally optimistic than I /usually/ think you are.” “Oh, hon… He didn’t stay here through all the outbreak mess? That can’t have been the best choice. He’s kinda...lizard-like. Would he’ve found a safe corner in the sewers an’ gone into hibernation mode? I dunno if that’s a thing for lizard-like people or not.” When Shane cuddles closer to him, Micah wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders and gives him a little hug-squeeze. “Bored because school in general or bored because it’s too easy? Sometimes when somethin’ comes real natural to a student they’ll let you take the final exam, give you credit for the class if you do well on that without actually havin’ t’sit through it.” His hand returns to its idle petting of Shane’s hair-spikes. “Y’do remember I’m /not/ food, though, right?” he asks with a teasing tone. “He wanted to -- to check on his people. But then things got /so/ bad and now it’s freezing on top of that, I -- he’s probably dead,” Shane admits unhappily. “He’s not much of a fighter.” His arm drapes loosely around Micah, gills whispering quietly against his bowtie as they flutter open and closed. “Bored because -- what the fuck is the point of any of this?” His head gives a small shake. “I don’t know. It /is/ easy. But I’m still failing like. Every -- almost every class this semester. I’m pretty sure they’re only not expelling me out of pity. Or nepotism, I think they really don’t want to lose Pa.” His mouth curls up into a quick smile at the teasing question, and his head tips back; he dots a light peck against Micah’s neck. “I bet Dusk would argue with that,” he answers, just before his teeth close -- carefully /gentle/, at least -- against Micah’s skin. “Honey, y’can’t know that. Maybe he joined up with the Morlocks an’ is doin’ okay. Ain’t much reason for zombies t’end up in the sewers. Usually takes some plannin’ t’get there t’begin with. An’ they’ve got a lotta fighters down there. Plus side is that they keep isolated a lot, too. Might not’ve run into as many infected folks t’be spreadin’ the illness. An’ folks like Anole as don’t talk so much are less susceptible, anyhow.” Micah’s arm curls tighter around Shane. “Don’t give up hope on folks ‘til y’have to.” He brings his hand up to pet Shane’s agitated gills back down. “I’ll talk t’Jax about the process of gettin’ you t’test out of whatever classes you think are too easy. You give me a list an’ we’ll see what we can do. Nobody wants t’/actually/ waste your time, hon.” Micah’s lips turn into a slight frown at the question of points. “Ain’t there anythin’ that interests you? Anythin’ y’wanna do? I know things are...way less than ideal. But there /are/ options. Places like the Clinic an’ /here/. Workin’ online like Dusk does. Places that are open t’folks like Jayna, even, workin’ out with people. It’s...not /good/ but it’s not /impossible/, either.” The commentary on Dusk brings an immediate bright blush to Micah’s cheeks. He tips his head away at the tiny bite. “Hon, y’can’t...that.” “But he talked to us a lot,” Shane says, very quietly. “Before we knew how it spread. Before he disappeared. And if it did get down into all of them --” He shudders, his arm tightening around Micah. “You know how much college Dusk’s had? He never even finished high school. And you don’t even need to know /how/ to fucking read to make a goddamn coffee. I can already do that, Montagues just doesn’t /let/ me because god forbid their customers know about the freak they have hidden in back. Even if I do graduate, colleges aren’t going to want me. Might as well just stick to washing dishes.” His smile does return, though, with another small nuzzle to Micah’s neck. “Oh, there’s /plenty/ I want to do. I just don’t need Russian class for it.” His lips are pressing to Micah’s neck again when his head tips away, but he pulls back, curling down into the corner of the couch with his hand falling back to his lap when Micah protests. His gills flutter again, eyes fixing down on his clawed fingers. “Right. Sor -- um. Right. I didn’t mean to -- I know I’m not --” His claws press down against his slacks. “Sometimes I forget,” he says, much quieter. “I’ll talk t’Jax about that, too. Maybe sendin’ someone t’check on ‘em as can handle themselves if the situation’s hairy. Should see how they’re holdin’ up. Almost certainly they’ll need supplyin’, at least.” Another frown tugs at Micah’s lips, disappointed with himself for not thinking of it sooner. “You can do college entirely online now, did y’know that? Don’t ever have t’do anythin’ in person, if it comes down to that. Just...y’gotta know what you /want/ t’do before we can figure out the best way t’try to get it, right? We want t’help, but y’gotta /meet/ us partway for it t’work.” Micah’s colour deepens at the repeated nuzzle, the almost-kiss. He looks relieved when Shane finally moves away, though the relief is only momentary. Concern takes over when Shane appears obviously upset. “Hon, it isn’t...it’s just one of those lines that ain’t good t’cross, okay? Y’need parents. An’ family. I want you t’have that an’ I can give you that. It would just be too messy t’blur up roles that way. You do get that, right? We can talk it out more if it’s still...confusin’ or whatever it is.” “Should tell Dusk.” Shane is still looking down at his hands, claws lengthening and pulling back in. “I mean, if you talk to Pa about it he’ll go /himself/. And it’s dark down there and --” He shrugs uncomfortably. “You both almost died there before.” His claws scritch slowly along the pinstripes in his slacks, sharp tips tracing along the slim white lines. “I know. But I still don’t know what’s the -- point, you go to college so you can get jobs. And I sure as hell don’t want to stay /here/ my whole fucking life, I don’t even like this place.” His head shakes after this, gills still fluttering. “I do have that. You /are/ my family. But I mean, you and Pa are each other’s family and you still --” His brows furrow deeply. “B and I are -- I mean, you can’t like. /Un/ family someone by --” His inner eyelids blink a few times, rapidly. “-- Can you?” Now he doesn’t seem entirely sure. He shakes his head again, though. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about -- I know I’m not -- you’re not into -- I really shouldn’t have --” He finishes this with a fist rubbing in a circle against his heart. “No,” Micah asserts simply, certainly. “He wouldn’t. I’m not in the habit of completely forbiddin’ things, but… I was there. With the almost-dyin’. An’ he won’t be goin’ back down there again without all /kinds/ of back-up.” He watches Shane’s hand move. “What I’m tryin’ t’tell you is that there /are/ options, Shane. If y’let us help you t’find ‘em. But this is /your/ life, so you gotta give us the direction. This is one of those things where /you/ are actually in charge.” Micah scoots closer to Shane on the couch, reaching out an arm in offer of a hug. “Honey, no. We’re family, of course. An’ ain’t nothin’ gonna change /that/. I just...want this t’be a clear thing for you. An uncomplicated thing. Where y’know it’s my job t’look out for you an’ t’take care of you an’ t’help you an’ t’love you an’ that I am not expectin’ anythin’ /from/ you. That those things are just what I’m s’posed t’do an’ what I want /for/ you, as a parent. /That/ would...or at least /could/ muddy all of that. An’ ‘cause I’m the adult an’ the authority figure or whatever, it’s /my/ job t’prevent the muddyin’. ‘Into’ don’t even get the chance t’enter into it. Does that make any more sense? I /want/ t’talk about this until it’s okay, because it’s obviously upsettin’ t’you.” Shane shifts just slightly to tuck himself under the offered arm, but his shoulders are tense, his posture stiff. He’s quiet, gills still fluttering as his fingers grip down against his knees. “It /was/ uncomplicated,” he insists softly, “but --” His brows knit together, and he fidgets briefly, uncomfortable. “-- Ba, I don’t really know how to. Say -- things. That /I’m/ feeling about --” His shoulder hitches up in a jerky shrug. “I feel like anything I say right now is just going to come out like I’m trying to make you feel guilty or bad about -- all this when that’s -- you don’t owe me any kind of /explanation/ for why you don’t want to fuck me, that’s ridiculous. It’s /okay/. That you don’t. And Pa doesn’t. And I’m not trying to -- sometimes I just forget. And that’s -- on me, you’ve both made it really clear and I -- haven’t been /respecting/ that, I just.” His eyes still lock on his hands, clamped against his knees. Micah’s arm wraps snugly around Shane, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s important for you t’understand an’ be okay with us sayin’ no. An’ for you t’respect that, you’re right. But I /want/ you t’tell me what you’re feelin’. Especially if y’want an’ need t’talk about it. That’s a good thing. An’ you shouldn’t worry about me...feelin’ bad or whatever. I know that’s not your intention. Just...if you wanna talk, I wanna listen. No matter how bad y’think you are at sayin’ things.” “I /am/ okay with you saying no, of /course/ I’m okay with -- I don’t need to understand it.” Shane’s cheeks flush darker; he’s still not looking up at Micah. “I just /don’t/ get why it’s complicated. It’s /not/ complicated -- to me anyway. Why does looking out for me and taking care of me and helping me and /loving/ me mean there’s this wei -- ngh. This arbitrary /line/ there about how you’re allowed and not-allowed to show it. You take care of Pa, you look out for Dusk. /Dusk/ loves me. I love him. /And/ you and Pa and Dai and B and Peter and I don’t /know/ why /sometimes/ suddenly that means sex is wrong, I do /all/ those things with /all/ of you and we don’t magically /stop/ taking care of each other because we were naked together.” His words hitch, intermittently, not with tears but just the rapid shifting of his gills breaking up his breaths. His claws press down harder, prickling through the fabric of his pants. “... I always just figured it was because I’m kind of a freak,” he admits, softer. “And /that/ I get, you know? It made sense when I just tell myself it’s because I’m /ugly/ so you guys aren’t interested. Because I /know/ I look kind of horrifying to most people. But then this whole thing where it’s actually just because you -- love me or some shit, /now/ it’s confusing. Because this is what I /do/ when I love people. You know? Sometimes I want to take care of them and sometimes I want to help them and sometimes I want to take them swimming or hunting or rock climbing or sometimes I want to get high and find /new/ shapes in the stars and /sometimes/ I want to just. Make them feel good. And not because I think you’re expecting anything from me. Just because I /love/ you.” “I know, honey. I know you’ll respect it whether y’understand it or not, ‘cause you’re a good person an’ Jax taught y’all right on that. But I /want/ you t’understand. I’m not about makin’ rules arbitrarily. It’s best when everyone knows the reasons for things t’avoid misunderstandin’s an’ failures t’meet expectations.” Micah pets down Shane’s gills when they flare again. “With all of those other folks, it’s more equal between you, right? You both are equally expected t’take care of each other an’ all of that. It’s not like that in a parent-child relationship. The parent has both more authority /and/ more responsibility. Power structure’s uneven, an’ it’s by /necessity/, not choice. I mean...what if we were, for example, t’/have/ a more physical relationship. Would y’say ‘no’ t’me as readily as someone else, if there were somethin’ y’didn’t want or weren’t comfortable with? Or would the fact that you’re s’posed t’listen t’me make you hesitate? I have no way of really knowin’ that. That’s the role-confusion thing that I’ve been talkin’ about.” Micah’s brow furrows at Shane’s description of /why/ he thought they wouldn’t be with him. “Ohgosh. Ohgosh, honey, no. That’s not… You ain’t ugly or freakish or horrifyin’ or any of that. You’re unique an’ beautiful an’...that’s not it at all. It’s just...different /kinds/ of love. Not romantic-love, parent-love, kinda. I just...don’t even think of you /that/ way ‘cause I think of you as my /kid/. An’ that’s just such a different thing from a lover. Does that make any sense?” “When am I shy about saying no to you?” Shane asks, but then immediately afterwards: “Why /would/ I say no to you. I /want/ you. But if I /didn’t/ want you for some reason I’d -- I mean, how is it different than you and Pa? You have authority over him. He listens to orders you give him. But that doesn’t mean he /stops/ being able to say no either. How do you know /he/ wouldn’t hesitate because of that? You know because you talk to each other. I’m pretty sure there’s confusing fucked-up power imbalance in every relationship ever and it’s all for different reasons. -- Did you know,” he says in a softer voice, with a small frown, “that I actually /can’t/ say no to Daiki? Like. My brain just won’t. Most people have a really hard time with it but he and I have been together too long to -- anyway it’s scary as hell in some ways but it’s really not in others. We spend a whole lot of time talking -- over gchat usually -- about what my boundaries are. And in person he’s /really/ careful to -- anyway that’s not the point. Pa’s last Master was like ten years older and ten hundred times richer than him, and /that/ puts strange pressure on a relationship too cuz there were periods where he was pretty much depending on Eli for rent and all. Eric’s a cop, he probably should just never sleep with /anyone/ in his jurisdiction at all. I don’t think you could point me to two people ever who don’t have complicating reasons why one of them /might/ feel pressured into agreeing with the other.” His cheeks flush darker, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “... besides which half the time when I fuck this shit up it’s because it /doesn’t/. Make sense. I don’t think -- sometimes I’m even thinking of it like sex. Like it’s not even about knowing how /relationships/ are different, I just don’t even know what /things/ I’m doing are the wrong things, you know? Like it’s okay if I hug someone but there’s some /lines/ and if I put my hand on /one/ side of it it’s a hug and if I put my hand on the /other/ side it’s inappropriate. At least if I’m being affectionate except if I touch them in the same place when I’m /sparring/ then it’s not inappropriate anymore. And if I kiss you on your cheek it’s okay but if I kiss you on your lips it -- might or might not be okay if I do it for too /long/, I don’t even fucking know. None of it makes sense to me. In my head it’s all just /warm/ and nice until suddenly I went too far and fucked it all up again.” “It’s different between me’n Jax because there isn’t an inherent power discrepancy from the nature of our roles in regard t’one another, like there is with parents an’ children. What we have is a voluntary power exchange; I only have any authority over him because he /asked/ me to an’ because he gave it t’me. An’ he can take it back whenever he wants. Ain’t like with kids. Y’all are pretty much legally obligated, to a certain extent, t’do what your parents say. An’ parents are legally responsible, again to a certain extent, for your actions. That gives the parent authority an’ the kids don’t /give/ it t’them. They can’t take it from them, aside for some really specific legal manoeuvring that hardly ever happens. It just /is/. No choice.” Micah nods at Shane’s examples. “Those are all still choices an’ y’can withdraw from them anytime. An’...bein’ with Dai can be scary, like y’said. I don’t want...any ‘scary’ in our relationship, honey, I just want you t’have someone t’trust an’ rely on. An’ Eric’s...ugh. That’s complicated an’ borderin’ on all kinds of inappropriate, too. That’s why Jax reacted so...poorly t’him bein’ with you.” Micah gives Shane’s shoulders another squeeze. “I’m sorry this is all so confusin’ for you. ‘Cause those lines are kinda decided by the society you’re in. An’ usually people learn those rules just from modellin’ an’ observation an’ they don’t even realise. But you an’ B didn’t get the chance t’do that naturally, an’ that’s just one more unfair thing in the pile of unfair things y’all have been given. It’s...somethin’ y’should pick up a better idea of over time. In the meantime, I’d just default t’askin’ people more, just what they’re okay with. An’ Jax an’ I will try t’help you sort out the confusin’ stuff like this whenever we can.” “But we chose to be with you guys.” Shane’s voice is quiet; he doesn’t sound like he’s arguing, really. “And being with anyone can be scary. I don’t think there’s a single day that I don’t wonder when you and Pa --” He exhales heavily, slumping into Micah’s side. His eyes close again, one hand lifting to start curling around Micah’s waist, but then he just drops it back to his own lap with a hard swallow. “I’m sor -- I’m not trying to be difficult. I just really love you guys. Like a whole fucking lot. I’m not ever really sure how to show it. This is just always what feels most natural. To me. I’m trying to. Unlearn everything. About being me. But I’m never really.” His smile is a little bit crooked. “... all that good at studying.” “We’re not givin’ y’all up, hon. Not ever. So y’don’t gotta wonder or worry or any of that ‘cause it ain’t that easy t’get rid of /either/ of us.” Micah hugs Shane closer, and shakes his head at Shane’s aborted return-hug. “Y’can hug me, Shane. It’s okay. I’ll let y’know whenever somethin’s not okay, just like earlier. Y’don’t have t’worry about that. I’ve got it under control. An’ y’can always /ask/ if there’s somethin’ y’want from me. Worst I’m gonna say is ‘no’.” He smiles back at Shane’s joke. “But you’re tryin’, an’ that’s what’s most important. An’ I’m not upset with you or even frustrated with you. Maybe frustrated with your /situation/, but that’s more on your /behalf/ than anythin’.” His hand rubs a gentle circle on Shane’s back. “Does...any of that make any more sense now? I can ask Jax t’talk about it with you, too. ‘Cause he could prob’ly say all the same things, just differently.” Tentatively, Shane curls his arm around Micah. His eyes close, his cheek nestling against Micah’s shoulder. “It’s still confusing,” he admits, apologetically. “In a lot of ways everything was always so much simpler. Before. In the labs. I at least always knew exactly what I was supposed to -- be.” His legs curl up onto the couch, and he balls up more snugly at Micah’s side. “I think I’m kind of all talked out about it, though. Maybe later. More -- talking. Can we just.” He hesitates, gills fluttering once more. “Do you have a lot to do right now, can we just. Stay. For a bit, we can -- I can put something on,” he says sheepishly with a gesture towards his computer’s Netflixed TV show, “that’s not zombies. I’ve been watching Doctor Who so I know what Spence and B are always on about. But I kind of just. Want to. -- This is nice right now.” His fingers press against Micah’s side, though his voice drops small and hesitant in his uncertain question, “-- I think? This is okay, right?” “It’s simpler when someone else tells you who t’be. But it doesn’t let you be you. An’ figurin’ /that/ part out is really what it’s all about, in a very ‘afterschool special’ kind of way.” Micah nods at the request to delay additional talking on the subject, reaching up to press down the fluttering gills. “We can stay for /a little/ bit. You should go t’your next class, though. Whenever that starts. In the meantime, cuddles are more than okay.” He squeezes Shane’s shoulders tighter again. “That was good askin’.” Shane doesn’t answer this; at least, not aloud. He just leans forward to switch his laptop from The Walking Dead to Doctor Who, and then nestles back against Micah’s side, tucking his head against his father’s shoulder, a small smile tentatively touching his lips.