ArchivedLogs:Snow Day

Snow Day
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah
In Absentia	14 December 2013 Working out the sads. (Set directly after cooking with Mel.) (Part of Prometheus TP.)
Location <NYC> Candyland - Village Lofts - East Village
This bedroom is bright, bright, bright, a cheerful riot of colour in contrast to the more minimalist scheme outside. It, too, has a plethora of lamps to lend it even more light than what comes in from the large windows opposite the entry; many of them bear stained-glass coverings in cheerful mosaic patterns to add still more colour to the room. The walls have been painted in pale blue with darker blue trim, though one is instead a mural of surreal fantastical artwork, odd unearthly plant and animal life spread across it in vivid colours. There is scattering of furniture here -- a bed on the wall adjacent to the window (usually dressed in vividly patterned mismatched sheets), a dresser opposite the bed, standing beside the large closet, both in wood that has been painted black and then covered in a swarm of brightly coloured images, too. The wall near the door bears an enormous handmade shelving unit, similarly painted; it is filled largely with meticulously organized art supplies. By the window, a desk stands in as-yet-unpainted wood; besides laptops and drawing tablet it often bears an eclectic mix of items, too. Comic books, knitting supplies, a hiking pack of climbing gear. Conveniently, Jackson had /already/ changed into pajamas upon arriving home. This makes it all the more easy to get comfortable in bed. He's curled up on his side on the mattress, with Obie tucked against his stomach gnawing happily on a Kong. Jackson has his phone in hand, scrolling slowly through his contacts though he isn't /contacting/ any of them. He's turned on all the lights in here, a sunlamp shining directly at the bed. There's a faint glow that surrounds Jax, fluctuating in intensity though it never gets too bright. True to his earlier statement, it is only a matter of minutes before Micah knocks softly on the door, then slips in past it, closing it softly behind him. While not pajama-clad as of yet, he is still dressed down pretty comfortably in Batsignal hoodie, 'UNSTOPPABLE!' T-rex tee, patchy jeans, and socks printed with a Dalek design in a coppery colour. The scents of the kitchen still cling to him warmly, onions and garlic and spices still caught up in his clothes and hair. He moves over to the bed, reaching out to run a hand through Jax's hair. “Hey, honey. Y'need t'talk? Or just cuddle? Both? Somethin' else entirely?” Jackson closes his eye, nuzzling upward into Micah's hand. Obie perks up at Micah's arrival, climbing half /over/ Jackson to drape his front paws over Jax's side and drop his Kong eagerly on the bed. "Ain't even been a year since that last -- snow fight." Jax sets his phone down, hand moving absently to scritch at Obie's side. Obie, in response, just picks up his Kong in his mouth and then drops it again, watching Micah expectantly. "How can that'a been less'n a year ago?" Micah's fingers massage into Jax's scalp at that nuzzling. Obie's antics earn a little smile and a lopsided grin. He reaches out with his other hand to scritch behind the pup's ears, though fully aware that isn't exactly what Obie was looking for. He leans in at Jax's words, kissing the back of his neck softly. “I know... S'an awful lot happened in the meantime. Think there's just so much goin' on all the time that we're just fittin' more in a shorter time than most folks do. Kinda makes time longer, in a way. An' faster, too, as much as a contradiction as that is.” Jackson cracks open his eye, head tilting just enough to look up at Micah. "S'just -- I met you there. An' Luci -- and Nox. And Matt. And now -- that was jus' /February/. By next February, who's gonna be --" He swallows, hard. His eye closes again at the kiss. He exhales heavily, shivering briefly. "Think Mel's right, we /will/ be doin' it each year with a different cast'a folks." Obie /also/ nuzzles up into his scritching, tail thwapping against the bed. He noses his Kong towards Micah, but then gives a small whine. He picks it back up, this time dropping the slobbery toy on the side of Jax's face. He noses at Jax's cheek, after this. "Oh, honey, it's. I know, it's hard. With all the...an' Nox an' Ian an' Matt an'... It's been a hard year. But a good year, too, in spite of all..." Micah seems to have developed an inability to complete sentences. "There's been a lotta loss, but there's also been all the people you've helped, the ones you've gotten outta those labs. Ones you've gotten into the school. An' then there's the kids' adoptions bein' finalised. An' us." He moves in to kiss Jax's neck again, moving down this time to the nape. This serious talk is rather deftly interrupted by dog toy to the face. "Obie, no. Don't drop toys on people's faces." There's a little laughter laced through this direction, however. Micah moves the toy, dropping it on the floor (which is just likely to be interpreted as /play/ by the pup). Pulling a tissue from the bedside table, he wipes Jax's face clean. "Oh -- sweetie," There's a little bit of laughter in Jax's voice, this directed more at the dog than at Micah. "I know, I know, I'm making /sad/ voice. But /slobber/ on my face isn't gonna --" Jax laughs again here, though, soft and brief. "... no OK I guess it did cheer me up." Even though his face scrunches up in a little bit of /gross/ when Obie slurps at his cheek. The beagle /bounds/ over Jax, though, all efforts at cheering-up forgotten when the toy is in motion. He nabs it off the floor, dropping it instead on Micah's foot. Jax tilts his head up slightly to facilitate the cleaning. He lifts his hand, fingertips tracing against the side of Micah's face. "Yeah. Yeah, there's been a world'a good, too. It's just -- sometimes I don't. Know how to --" He's not doing all that well at completing sentences, either, though at least in his case this problem is /chronic/. "'course then other times I get a Kong dropped on my face an' that makes it hard to. Brood. This dog's crampin' my style, I was all set to write sad poetry too." Micah flicks the toy with his foot, seeing as it's already there, sending it rolling across the floor to thud up against the base of the door. “It all...takes some dealin' with sometimes, yeah. Heavy stuff weighs on your mind after awhile.” The bedsprings give a soft creak in complaint as Micah perches himself on the edge of the mattress, his hand still buried in Jax's hair. “I think Obie might be owed a treat, in that case. If I recall correctly, you compared your poetry t'my /bakin'/, so we've all been spared a world of hurt.” Jackson turns over, when Micah sits down. He slides in closer, setting his head in Micah's lap. "I don't really know where to go from here. Think that scares me. I try to think, next February who's gonna be still standin' here an' --" He pushes out a slow breath, hugging an arm around Micah's knee. "I poke around at the news an' there's folks bein' horrified at the stories rollin' out about Prometheus but. Right alongside 'em there's a wealth of folks wonderin' why if these labs exist we ain't /all/ been rounded up for 'em yet." He watches Obie as the dog scampers quickly off after the Kong, snatching it up and bounding back up onto the bed to drop it on Micah's lap. It thumps up against Jax's nose and he snorts, shaking his head reflexively. "... my poetry's /appallin'/. If it was /you/ wearin' this collar I'd read it t'you some time /punitively/. 'Cept you'd prob'ly safeword three lines in an' that'd be the end of that." “We do what we're doin', hon. I mean...I get my business back up'n runnin'. You teach'n finish school an' do your artwork. We get the twins through high school one way or another, an' take care of Spence. We help folks when an' where we can. We love our people that we've got an' we do our best t'protect an' support 'em.” Micah's hand moves from massaging Jax's scalp to his neck, fingers working in small circles. “S'really all we can ever do. S'always gonna be backwards-minded, hateful folks out there. We do what we can t'help change public opinion. You're doin' more'n your share on that front, for sure.” He tries not to laugh when the Kong hits Jax in the face again, really he does. But it comes out in the midst of his protest of, “Obie! No faces!” nevertheless. Scooping the toy up, he sends it rolling to the door once more. And fortunately still has the tissue balled up in his other hand to wipe at Jax's face again. Jackson laughs, butting his nose up against the tissue. "Faces are the quickest route t'grabbin' attention." Though when Obie retrieves the toy again, this time he drops it on Micah's toes. Jax's smile lingers, his fingers kneading against Micah's thigh. His tone has lost it's sadder note, now just thoughtful. "You say all that like it's so straightforward. I don't know how to balance -- /I'm/ gonna start failin' my classes if I ain't careful, I been tryin' to keep the same schedule now I did all spring an' summer an' there just ain't enough /daylight/ for that. I need to --" He shakes his head, tipping it downwards to let Micah's fingers work better at his neck. "I kept toyin' with droppin' out of school. I might could pull it off with a car, s'the commute that kills me some days time-wise. But a car's -- more expense and we don't need that right now." Faces might be quick, but feet earn a pretty immediate response without needing the pause to retrieve the toy. Micah flicks it back across the room again with his toes. "Y'can't just drop out /now/, hon. Y'done so much work just t'get this far...how close are you t'finishin' now? We can make it work. Could get you a car on the cheap an' I could fix it up without addin' too much cost." His hand continues working deeper into the muscles of Jax's neck. "Or...I've honestly been thinkin' that y'shouldn't go back t'the bartendin' job, honey. Y'got enough things y'do that are more important t'you. An' I can help more. Business is pickin' back up for me. Mendel's runnin' an' will be coverin' what I do with folks instead of me tryin' t'scrape by ways t'help outta my own pocket...might even be a little /profitable/ in the end. An' I can always pick up off-time an' weekend hours at the shop, even once my regular work's back up. The twins are both workin' steady an' /want/ t'help with coverin' their own needs. We can do this. Y'don't gotta give that up." "Club ain't even open again since the zombies," Jackson admits, "but night shifts at the Clinic pretty much ate up the couple nights a week I used t'work /there/. An' /they/ might actually need me." His voice is a little wry, here. "Don't think there's hardly a person on their staff what ain't got death threats already. An' ninety-nine percent of it's just /trollin'/ but that last percent --" He quiets, briefly, tight-knotted muscles slowly starting to relax under Micah's kneading. "I still got another whole year after this'n's through. Prometheus kinda pushed back /my/ schoolin' a mite, too. I jus' ain't sure how I'm gonna make it on another year at this pace I feel like I'm burnin' --" His brow wrinkles. "Life jus' keeps bein' expensive. Spence's school's expensive an' /my/ school /supplies/ are /mad/ expensive an' /stagin'/ these rescues -- jus' the thought of more bills on top'a everything --" His teeth scrape against his lip. He turns over onto his back, looking up at Micah, his teeth worrying at a lip ring. "You really think we could make it work?" “No, I get that y'wanna stay on at the Clinic. I get that. But if the club calls y'back I think y'should say no.” Micah tosses the used tissue into the small trashcan by the desk. Both hands freed, he broadens his kneading to include Jax's shoulders. “I think maybe, honey, we gotta let other folks help more...at least from a financial standpoint. Ain't there anybody backin' these raids? You'n your team are puttin' in all this time an' effort an' trainin' an' fightin' an' riskin' your /lives/. It'd be...fair t'try an' get /fundin'/ from somewhere else.” He sighs heavily, considering additional avenues to make things more feasible. “There's other places where...I could cut back on the time I spend at Common Ground t'pick up more work hours instead, for example. It's not ideal, but it's temporary. 'Cause /this/ is important, too.” He moves back to just petting at Jax's hair when the other man turns. His gaze is steady where the Jax's is worried, thoughtful, problem-solving. “Could take out student loans t'help cover the gap while you're in school, too.” "Yeah," Jackson agrees. "Yeah, that's probably -- right. Can't say I'll really /miss/ bein' groped at by drunk men or leered at by my skeevy boss." His brow wrinkles again, this time just /puzzled/. "Backing? No, we ain't -- I mean, s'always kinda just. Been us. I weren't never real sure where you could -- apply for a grant to go do terrorism with," he admits with a crooked smile. "Though I expect there's gotta be some rich person out there interested in throwin' money at us but how do you even go about findin' 'em?" He continues to gnaw at his lip, and drops one arm downward off the edge of the bed, letting his fingers trail down to Obie's head where the dog has returned to chewing his kong. "Oh -- gosh, Common Ground though they do so much /good/ -- mnh. I can look into loans, that'd be better." “Good...well, that's one thing settled, at least.” Micah chuckles at the thought of terrorist grants. “Look, I dunno how this all works, I'm still kinda...comin' late t'the game. I mean...who /started/ alla this, anyhow? Had t'be a first raid, right? How'm I t'know there ain't some shadowy patron of the whole thing?” He rubs gently at Jax's temples, still trying to work some of the /worry/ out of the other man's features. “Honey, loans is fine. It's how most folks do the whole school thing. I can help y'with that 'cause I done been there already. But if I have t'cut those hours, too, I will. They do a lotta good but it ain't like they're /not/ gonna keep doin' it without me. They were doin' it /before/ me, too. I'm not holdin' the place t'gether or anythin'. I'll be there when I can, but if I can't? That's okay, too. /You/ are my first priority. You an' the boys. Everythin' else comes /after/ y'all are taken care of. That /includes/ you gettin' t'finish school.” "It was -- it was folks from the school. On the first one. The -- Prometheus, they didn't. Do their research well enough, I guess. I was kinda bein' a hobo one summer in high school -- not exactly /really/ homeless so much as -- I sorta packed my things in a bike trailer an' um --" Jax blushes, his nose crinkling up. "I was bein' a dirty hippie," he confesses. "Kinda driftin' around 'tween a couple of animal rights groups, tryin' to get this big action together -- anyway I think they just saw me an' figured, random homeless kid, Southern family, /they/ probably hated me right don't everyone down there kick out their freak kids an' fag kids an' what else'd I be doin' sleepin' in a tent all down the coast." "But the problem is that the school -- well, we take the kids' safety /pretty/ serious. Really I think in a way nabbin' me to begin with was one'a the biggest mistakes they ever done made. An' not cuz of anything special 'bout /me/. Just cuz don't nobody lay a hand on our --" His blush deepens. "They hunted me down, anyhow. Busted me out an' the rest of everyone along with me. Ryan, B, Rachel an' Ines -- a bunch of us. Thing was, though, that time nobody knowed it went any further than the one lab. So that was almost the end of it. Didn't become a /thing/ till --" Jax's brow furrows, his head shaking again. "... I'm ramblin'. 'pologies, I don't know if you wanted /storytime/." He lifts his hand, wrapping it around Micah's and bringing the other man's fingers down from temples to his lips to kiss Micah's fingertips softly. "I -- ain't good at this, this whole -- I forget. Sometimes I forget I don't gotta just /do/ everything all my own now, I --" His mouth presses to Micah's palm, for a long still moment. "I love you. Thank you." “Oh...well, I guess it wouldn't be too reasonable t'have the school fundin' these things. S'pose they've already got their hands full doin' what they're doin' an' I'm already about t'go pick on 'em for how they're doin' /that/ here in a couple of days.” Micah shakes his head with a sort of bemused expression as the story unfolds. When Jax starts apologising, he pushes a fingertip to the other man's lips in a shushing gesture. “No, don't. Don't never apologise for tellin' your story. Ain't nothin' about you I don't wanna know, honey.” He moves his hand away from Jax's mouth so that he can lean in, his torso pressing down and locking Jax into his lap in order to let their lips meet in a drawn out kiss. When he pulls back, it is just enough to grant the space to speak. “I love you, hon. Just gotta /let/ me take care of you, is all. You're always takin' care of everyone else. But /you/ get t'be mine.” "Most'a the students there ain't even payin' no kinda tuition, school's -- /afloat/ sure enough, but not enough to --" Jackson shrugs a shoulder. "'sides which money leaves all kindsa trails an' gettin' mixed up on paper with us like that -- it'd put /all/ those kids at risk." He quiets, for the shushing and for the kiss; the press of lips draws a soft inhale, breathed in against the other man's mouth as he returns the kiss gently. "Oh -- oh." He curls his hand against the side of Micah's face. The faint light that has lingered around him vanishes, seemingly drawn inward to flush out warm and glowing beneath his skin instead. "Yessir. Yours. I -- think I can handle that." His lips press to Micah's again, deeper, though interrupted again by the pulsing vibration of his phone on the bed beside them. His mouth curls against Micah's into a smile. "... cornbread's done." “No, no, I wouldn't think they could,” Micah agrees easily about the school's role. His hand traces down along Jax's side to his hip, resting there as he bends to the second kiss. The phone's alarm going off is enough to startle his muscles into a sudden quick tension, not quite a jump. He lifts away from Jax, relaxing again with his own smile in answer. “Guess we should go do somethin' about that. If you're feelin' up to it. I can always go take it off the stove an' come back if not...” The hand slips back up along Jax's ribs in a gentle petting motion. Jackson tenses for a brief moment at Micah's touch, and then breaks into a laugh, hiding his face against Micah's shirt. "I swear I just had this moment where I forgot /I/ didn't have gills an' I was /totally/ about to tell you t'be careful how you're rubbin' or you'll cut yourself," he explains between laughter. He nuzzles against Micah's belly, sighing happily at the petting and now pressing into it. "I could definitely eat. Wouldn't hardly say no to more alone-time, though. But after food. An' maybe cocoa. Mel mentioned cocoa." Micah /giggles/ at this revelation, not stopping the stroking of his hand along Jax's flank. "I'm not even sure what t'/think/ about that, honey. Guess y'get so used t'calmin' the twins that pettin' at someone's side is permanently linked t'gills in your head now." /His/ head shakes at this, still chuckling in amusement. "Just wanted t'make sure y'were okay first. We can get you /all/ the food. Chili an' cornbread an' eventually the herb bread'll be done bakin'. An' we can leave the oven open a crack after just t'let all the warm an' delicious smells fill up the whole apartment. An' definitely cocoa." His fingertips turn Jax's chin away for one last kiss, then a little playful one to the tip of his nose before he helps the other man to his feet with a grin. "C'mon then, let's get y'fed." "I don't even know. Maybe I jus' forgot we don't share /genes/." Through his laughter, Jax is blushing furiously. "I'm okay. I'll /be/ okay. I mean, chili an' cornbread an' focaccia an' you an' Mel an' cocoa --" He grins bright at the little nose-kiss, taking care not to step on Obie as he gets to his feet, curling his arms in a brief tight hug around Micah. "... I could /almost/ get to like this snow business."