ArchivedLogs:The Art of Giving

{{ Logs | cast = Shane, Sebastian, Micah, Jackson, Daiki | summary = Breakfast and...an interesting choice of gifts. | gamedate = 2013-12-26 | gamedatename = 26 December 2013 | subtitle = | location = <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village | categories = Xavier's, Citizens, Mutants, Humans, Private Residence, Village Lofts, Shane, Sebastian, Micah, Jax, NPC-Daiki | log = 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 myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room 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. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too.

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.

Partytime is over and the bulk of everyone has returned home. There /was/ a whole lot of cleanup to do but after a lot of collective work last night now cleaning is finished with. The living room still smells like pine, the tree twinkling merrily in the corner. A little Nativity set (manger constructed out of bone, tiny figurines blown delicately in glass) sits on one end of the countertop between kitchen and living room, out of reach of excitable beagle feet.

The smell of coffee is warring with pine, right now. Daiki is dressed in deep blue tunic over dark grey trousers, currently in the kitchen not drinking coffee and instead pouring tea into a thermos. There's a large bowl of batter beside the stove, fresh sliced strawberries and bananas in a bowl next to that. Two pancakes are cooking in a large pan.

Sebastian is just emerging from the shower, towel around his waist and candy-sweet smell of his soap on his skin.

Shane hands Bastian a plate upon emerging from the bathroom. /Their/ plates are distinctive, blue-and-black swirled glass in contrast to Jax's largely black-and-red stoneware, and right now Bastian's is just layered with many strips of bacon. Uncooked. Shane is still sleepy-eyed, not yet coffee'd in the early morning; he hasn't actually bothered yet with /clothes/ of -- any sort. He has a towel draped over his arm, though.

Sebastian bonks his head down against Shane's shoulder. "You want to go to work for me?" he asks Shane, taking the plate.

"I'd go to work for you," Daiki cheerfully offers.

"You're too tall," Sebastian objects.

"Pfft, we're all Asian who the fuck's gonna notice." Shane leans up against the couch, arm snaking around Sebastian's neck with the headbonk.

"Mnn." Sebastian dips his head, chomping one strip of bacon off the plate. "'kai have a pancake?"

"Three minutes," Daiki answers.

When Micah creeps out from the bedroom, he is dressed for shop work, all in navy blue, though his hair has the distinctly messy look of having been slept on and not tended to yet this morning. The one good thing about mandatory post-shop afternoon showers is less preparation time needed in the mornings. He heads straight to the kitchen to stare at the coffee pot and determine whether brewing has completed. "'Mornin', hon," he offers sleepily to the room at large as he leans against the counter.

Jackson actually /doesn't/ have anywhere to be this morning, no school, no class, work only at second shift in the afternoon. It's likely he's only up at all because his empty bed means no more cuddles; he emerges from the bedroom shortly after Micah.

He shuffles in fuzzy socks, soft black terrycloth pajama pants, no shirt, no eyepatch into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later with teeth brushed and bladder relieved. There's a wetness around his missing eye that looks very like tears but certainly is not given that his tear ducts are just as missing as the rest of his eye; just drops applied with some regularity when the tissue there grows irritated.

He absently rubs his freshly-washed hands together, stopping to draw in a deep breath of breakfast-smells. "Oh, gosh, pancakes." This puts a little extra bounce to his step. He stops to scruffle at each of the twins in turn, mussing at their spiky kind of /un/mussable hair. He doesn't head /into/ the kitchen after this but takes a seat on a stool on the living room side of the counter, leaning elbows against it and dropping his chin sleepily into his palms. For a second, at least, before leaning over the counter to steal a slice of strawberry out of the bowl.

Daiki gives Micah a warm smile, flipping the pancakes in the pan over and then lidding his thermos. He turns to get out a mug when Micah eyes the coffee, though he stops as he reaches towards the pot. "Are you leaving immediately?" he asks first, though secondly clarifies this into the /actual/ question here: "Mug or thermos?" His current cheerful mood is easily felt, the very /strong/ affectionate /tug/ of his mutation only growing more acutely magnetic at closer range. His warm smile doesn't last long, fading soon into a more neutral expression as he transfers pancakes to a plate and pours batter for two new ones.

"Go to work." Shane lifts his head into the scruffling with a slow flutter of gills. "I'll finish pancakes."

Sebastian slips over to the kitchen, stealing one of the finished pancakes and wrapping it like a burrito around most of his raw bacon. "{Morning, Ba,}" he offers in quiet Vietnamese. "Maybe we can all just /swap/ work for a day."

Shane grins at this. "Anyone can do /my/ job that's no problem. I'd keel over and die trying to juggle Dai's and I don't know /shit/ about fixing cars. Or fixing people either."

"The fun part is learning," Daiki insists with some amusement. "'Bastian could do my job, he mostly already does for Dr. Saavedro."

"Mmm --" At first Bastian cannot really speak around large mouthful of bacon-pancake sandwich. He swallows, and tries again: "-- I can't imagine you getting your hands dirty at Ba's shop though."

Daiki just blushes at this accusation. Looks down at his hands, kind of /impeccably/ groomed.

"Oh, mug, please. Thank you. I got a little bit of time for breakfast an' caffeinatin' the brain cells before I gotta go." Micah chuckles at the offer to switch jobs. "I don't know who alla you knows much 'bout cars. An' I do got a couple of appointments at Mendel in the afternoon. Not sure as I even really know just what it is B actually does at his job." He collects the mug once it is filled, giving another quiet thanks before foraging for almond milk and sugar to stir in. Settling next to Jax at the counter, he nudges the other man's shoulder with his forehead in greeting. His fingers curl around the mug, stealing warmth while he waits for the contents to be cool enough to drink. "Both of my jobs /are/ pretty much hell on your hands," he acknowledges.

"Nobody's linin' up to poke people with needles, I see." Jackson's grin at this is bright, his fingertips absently dancing over the bright ink up his forearms. "S'alright cuz I don't think I could do hardly /none/'a your jobs. I /could/, though, disguise myself as any one of you long enough to botch your work completely an' get you fired, though."

He leans back up against Micah when the other man settles in beside him, kissing the top of Micah's head lightly. "I gotta be down at the Clinic in the afternoon, too. Got a really adorable robot t'ink onto someone's shoulder first, though." His fingers trace lightly against the back of Micah's hands. "My jobs are alright for hands. S'/class/ that kills me, I don't think I've /stopped/ burning myself on molten glass so much as I just built up enough scar tissue not to notice."

Daiki dips his head in acknowledgment, pouring the mug full and relinquishing it to Micah. He gratefully turns over the spatula to Shane, kissing the shorter boy on the cheek and grabbing the other finished pancake for himself. "See you tonight, then," he says to everyone at large, rolling /himself/ a pancake-burrito too, though his is filled with fruit. He grabs his thermos, tucking it into his messenger bag and heading for the door to winterize himself and head out.

"/I/ want a cute robot, can I get a cute robot?" Sebastian eyes his skinny biceps contemplatively.

"For like two weeks, sure." Shane holds the spatula lazily, pancakes still mostly just gloopy wet batter. He doesn't head to the stove just yet, meandering back to the other side of the counter to worm himself between Jax and Micah, butting his forehead up against Jax's shoulder like a particularly insistent puppy demanding attention.

"I don't know what I do at my job, either," Sebastian tells Micah with a sheepish half-smile. "Flail, mostly. Hope nobody notices. I do better for Dr. Saavedro, though. That's just a lot of scheduling and -- I cajoled a holiday donation out of TonyStark for the Clinic so that -- should be nice."

"I donated ten bucks," Shane tells his dads, "Stark donated ten /million/."

"S'pretty much /like/ ten bucks to him, I think," Sebastian says with a small blush.

"And I would so poke people with needles," Shane adds brightly, "I just don't think they'd like the results."

"Pretty sure I'd botch yours up, too, Jax," Micah admits with a chuckle. "Pretty sure most folks ain't lookin' for stick figure ink." At Jax's mention of burning himself, Micah takes his hands and brushes kisses to his palms and fingertips, coffee mug abandoned to the counter. Shane slipping between them interrupts further silliness, but earns the teen a scruffing of his hair.

"Have a good day!" Micah calls to Daiki with a wave as the boy heads out. "Y'all would really heal over the scars from a tattoo that fast?" He arches an impressed eyebrow. "May as well just do temporary ones or henna, then. 'Less y'just like the needle. Then y'could just get new things put on all the time an' not have t'worry about it bein' permanent." Leaning in, he kisses Shane on the top of his head. "Any little bit counts when it comes t'non-profits. You give what you're able. Stark's just been blessed with a lotta 'able'."

"Actually I've done a fair few stick figures. Some folks who like that -- comic you like. B, you can get a cute robot if you want. Though I bet Tag'd do it for you in a fraction of the time an' no pain. Less you like the pain," Jax agrees, "which case I'll do it sure. Kinda jealous, actually, I /like/ the needles but /I'm/ runnin' outta canvas." His fingers unfurl, pressing lightly to Micah's lips and cheek with the light kisses.

"... I can't even really envision ten million dollars," he admits. "You get up that high you may as well tell me eleventy katrillion." His hand drops when Shane worms between them, curling around the boy's side to pet absently at Shane's gills. "Please don't poke anyone with needles. You, uh --" His eyes drop downwards for a moment and then back over to the pan. "-- were gonna take a shower, too? I could do the pancakes. An' I'm /fair/ sure you do more at work than flail, B, else you wouldn't'a got a promotion."

Shane closes his eyes with a contented squeeze, gills shifting slowly. "Mmmno you both /sit/. I'll shower /after/ you both have breakfast." It's with considerable reluctance that he pulls himself away from petting, allowing Jax and Micah their closeness again so that he can go flip the pancakes over.

"xkcd," Sebastian tells Jax. "And I'd get the existentialist. Maybe I'll ask Tag. Though the actual tattoo could be fun."

A quick grin spreads across Shane's face. "Definitely fun. You can tattoo /me/ any time. Doubt a lot of colours would show right but just plain black would look /neat/."

The mention of shower reminds Sebastian that /he/ also has so far failed at getting dressed; he sheds his towel from his waist to pat damp out of his poky hair, slipping off towards the bedroom to return with boxers on and a pair of cargo pants draped over his arm. "Oh -- oh we didn't say yesterday because lots of /busy/ and guests but we /did/ get you a present."

"For /both/ of you," Shane insists, "even if you don't celebrate Christmas it can just be like a. Present. Late birthday maybe. Sorry-your-birthday-had-zombies."

Sebastian wrinkles his nose as he wriggles into pants. "Zombies are a /terrible/ birthday present."

"Oh, if they /want/ stick figures, I can totally sub for you, then," Micah assures with a grin. "An' things are still goin' okay for you at work, B? They're givin' you enough support an' all what y'need not t'feel like you're completely flounderin', right?" Micah eyes the stove with a sleepy sort of longing. "I don't care who makes pancakes s'long as pancakes happen." He smiles and blushes faintly at the gift announcement. "Zombies /are/ a terrible gift. Prometheus ain't gettin' no thank you cards for that one. But y'all didn't need t'make a fuss...sweet of you, though." He scoops his mug up in one hand, taking tiny sips as his other hand moves to trace random patterns on Jax's back.

"Right, xkcd. That one. That art's easy enough." Jax doesn't protest having pancakes made for him. He drops his arms back to the counter, folding them there and pillowing his forehead against his forearms. A happy purr rumbles in his throat at the small touch to his back. He tips his head slightly upward with a small flush of colour darkening his cheeks. "Oh, gosh, y'all didn't gotta -- that's sweet. An' yeah pretty much so long as it ain't zombies s'gotta be better'n Micah's birthday was."

"Oh work's good yeah. A lot of -- fun." Sebastian bobs his head in a nod, disappearing once more to return in a white undershirt, grey button-down held in his hands.

"Don't wear that one." Shane is leaning against the counter, staring down at the pancakes like that will make them cook faster. "I have a purple one clean, wear that."

Sebastian frowns at the shirt in his hand. "Did you need this?"

Shane shrugs. "Purple looks better on you."

Sebastian drops his hand to his side, not putting on the shirt. "-- Anyway you'll have to talk to Lucien cuz --"

"-- we figured you can /always/ use a break and neither of you really tend to --"

"-- /take/ a lot of time for yourselves. So we just got you two hours with him --"

"-- which means working out a good time all your schedules fit it, though --" Shane pauses to flip the pancakes over, turning to get out two new plates.

"-- probably you'll want to wait till he can do it at his /actual/ place and not around here. There's not a lot of, um," Sebastian's cheeks flush darker.

"-- Even everyone who /doesn't/ have our ears can hear everything around here," Shane explains helpfully. No blushing. "His dungeon's soundproofed."

"Plus he /has/ a dungeon did you know he -- anyway I'm sure he'll be happy to --" Sebastian waves his hand towards Jax and Micah. "Show you."

"And he's totally hotter than most zombies," Shane adds. "Though /Zombie/ is /pretty/ cute. /Especially/ for a corpse."

At Jax's purr, Micah curls his nails in and scratches more firmly at his back. "Good!" He answers 'Bastian with a bright smile. "Should be enjoyin' your work, s'the best thing for it. Ain't nothin wrong with you wearin' /colour/, B. Dress shirts is good for work but there ain't no requirement that they gotta be bland." Increasing confusion spreads over Micah's features as the boys speak of talking to Lucien and arranging schedules for this gift. "Why in the world would we need t'schedule with Lucien for a--oh. /Oh./" The realisation is clear by more than just this exclamation, red springing to his cheeks and just climbing in vibrancy as the twins continue to speak. "Oh/gosh/, honey, I don't think y'can just buy folks...folks for Christmas." Micah shoots a helpless look over to Jax for assistance, as if he needs the actual Christian to back him up on this since who /knows/ what they actually do.

A soft happy sigh shivers out of Jax, a very faint glow warming the red and black wings tattooed on his back, brightening the pair of stars nestled at the base of his neck. "Y'do like purple, don't you, honey-honey?" He glances briefly to the shirt and then tips his head back down against his arms.

This, at least, temporarily hides the /brilliant/ flush of red that floods his face as the twins speak. "Wh -- waitwhat." The blush is evident enough when he looks up, wide-eyed. "A -- but -- ah -- you. Can't." For a moment he just stammers without much coherence. "Look, pups, y'can't just. Luci is not a Christmas present, he -- you. And buying /sex/ for -- that ain't -- real appropriate to --" He rubs at his cheek with a hand, head shaking. "Y'can't. Give us Lucien. As a present."

Sebastian's eyes grow wider, too, at these reactions. His fingers crumple into the dress shirt, gills fluttering quickly. For a moment his expression falls, crumpling as well before it evens out into blankness. "Oh --" His voice is quieter, now, enthusiasm drained into just soft contrition. "{Sorry. I'm sorry,} we didn't mean for -- I just thought. Because you /like/ -- and you don't often --{sorry.} He seemed --"

Shane doesn't sound contrite, in contrast. Just puzzled, as he slides the pancakes onto two plates, sprays the pan down and pours batter for two new ones. "What? Of /course/ you can buy -- we're not buying /people/ just buying his /time/. If I bought you a massage or a dance lesson or -- you know pretty much /most/ things are buying /someone's/ time. Just thought it'd be good to buy someone's time in a way you /like/. And it's not like it'd be the first time, we bought Ba time with him before." He sets the bowl of fruit on the counter with Jax and Micah, getting maple syrup to put it there, too. And a pancake each, with fork and knife.

Micah looks back up at 'Bastian's growing upset, though his face is surely no less red, the flush even worse, if possible, due to the addition of Jax's flustered blushing. "Oh, no, honey. It's okay. Y'didn't do anythin' /wrong/. Y'just didn't know that...that ain't the kinda thing you usually get somebody as a present. 'Specially not for your parents. We do like Lucien--love 'im, but he's a friend, sugar." He reddens further at Shane's reminder of having bought Lucien's time before. "Oh...honey, that was different. That was mostly tryin' t'provide pain relief after I got /shot/. An' that was sweet, hon, but...this would be...different. We appreciate what you're tryin' t'do, it just ain't really...appropriate." He pats a hand against Shane's shoulder when the boy comes close for delivering food. "Thank you, though. For bein' thoughtful. An' for the food."

"Oh -- oh gosh, sweetie, no, you --" Jax's blush isn't fading, either, but he slides off his stool to curl an arm around Sebastian for a quick squeeze. "We ain't /upset/, this was -- real sweet. Really it was. Just -- /sex/ things ain't real appropriate gifts for parents and Lucien --" His brow creases briefly as the thought of Lucien. He squeezes Sebastian a little closer and then returns to his stool, scooping a generous helping of fruit and pouring a rather ridiculous amount of maple syrup onto his pancake, though not yet eating.

"So -- you /didn't/ fuck him that last time? Or -- whatever you were capable of with bullet holes in you." Shane's brows raise as he returns to the stove. "Anyway this /is/ pain relief. You can't tell me that all this shit the past few months doesn't hurt because I know it hurts. You guys have a lot of -- worry and stress and /I/ can't do shit to --" He shakes his head, looking down at the pancakes in the pan. "It can be pain relief even if you're not bleeding. Anyway what's this have to do with being a friend, Pa's friends buy art from him and pay for their tattoos."

Sebastian, though, doesn't try to explain any further. He just nods, inner eyelids blinking open and closed as he leans briefly into Jax's hug. His gills still flutter rapidly; it takes a few tries before he manages to collect his breathing enough for proper speech. "OK. {Sorry.} I'll talk to him, we'll find -- something. Else. {Sorry. Sorry -} I." He shakes his head quickly, tugging on the grey shirt and buttoning it up quickly. "Have to. Get to work, I'll. Talk to Lucien when I'm. Off."

“B, honey. Please stop apologisin', y'don't have to...y'didn't do anythin' /wrong/ an' ain't nobody upset. Okay? Y'had the best intentions an' the thought behind it was real sweet an' we just...can't...accept it. Is all.” It's Micah's turn to stand and move over to Sebastian, leaning in to stroke the gills at his neck down and patting at his shoulder, then moving out of the way so as not to delay him getting to work on time. “Try not t'worry about it, hon. Have a good day at work.” He gives 'Bastian's arm one last squeeze before returning to his seat.

Shane's question just serves to spark even more impressive shades of red in Micah's skin, the colouring consuming his neck and ears by this point. “That's...ohgosh. Honey, that ain't really the...point. The intention last time was Lucien usin' his abilities t'make the bullet-rippin'-through-side pain go away. An' he did that an' that was an amazin'ly sweet thing t'have thought t'do, too. But...yes, Lucien did overshoot that a little with his ability an'...is sort of remarkably persuasive, besides, but... That was never the...plan. It was a different thought.” He shakes his head at Shane's continuing extrapolations. “Honey, sex ain't /like/ other things. It's...illegal t'purchase, for one. But besides that, it's more complicated. It ain't the same thing as buyin' a paintin' or a tattoo. It bein' complicated is the whole reason it's takin' so much...t'try an' help teach you what is or ain't appropriate.” His teeth worry at his lower lip. “An' sex ain't the only way t'make things less stressful or less painful. Yes, it's one way. But there's...bein' present an' talkin' an' doin' nice things like makin' breakfast an' givin' hugs an'...all kindsa things that y'can do, Shane. That you /already/ do. You help, honey. Y'ain't gotta feel bad 'cause that's /one/ thing y'don't do with us.”

"Sweetie, you really don't got nothin' to be apologising for, we just -- it's fine, okay? We can talk t'Lucien, it's -- okay. Just -- gosh, y'all already do /so much/ for us, maybe just -- stay away from -- sex when you want to be gettin' a present." Jax scrubs his fingers into his hair, slouching down at the counter. "Shane -- pup, it's." His brow furrows, and he just nods in acknowledgment at Micah's words. "Yeah, things've been hard. But this ain't the way -- you do more'n you know to make it easier already." His fingers scrunch in harder, shaggy bright hair kind of a mess when he finally drops his hand. "See you tonight, honey-honey. Have a good day."

"What 'cause you two never do anything illegal ever, I just --" Shane starts, but is cut off abruptly by an abrupt interjection from Sebastian in sharper-toned Vietnamese. Shane's lips press together, his brows furrowing. He flips the pancakes, grimacing as his gills start to flutter, and he doesn't say anything as Sebastian finishes getting on winter clothes to leave. Sebastian doesn't say anything more, either, hurrying off.

"Okay," is all Shane finally says once the door is closed behind his twin. "Though man if /you/ don't want two hours with him /I/ totally do." He scoops a second pancake onto each of his fathers' plates, dropping them there atop the first. "You should probably keep the money, though. So long as you do something /nice/ for yourselves with it and not pay bills or some shit."

“I'm not sayin' that y'shouldn't /ever/ do anythin' that's illegal. S'pretty much impossible. Just that it's...a consideration. It's one of those things that should set off alarms that somethin's /different/ about a particular thing, from a socially-acceptable standpoint. That's all.” Micah offers Shane a small smile with this, that changes into a chuckle at his comment on how he wants to spend his own time. “Ohgosh, I'm gonna put the whole money conversation off for later, 'cause I actually wanna eat this while it's still warm. Thanks again, hon.” Micah spoons some fruit and a light coating of syrup onto his pancake, cutting bites to finally start eating.

"I -- don't think Luci would --" Jax's cheeks flush deep crimson again. "/You/ ain't of age, /that's/ a whole separate kind of illegal." He ducks his head, hiding his blush as he slumps down against the counter, "Thank you for the food, pup, I --" He just shakes his head, picking up his fork and knife and turning his attention to Pancakes. }}