ArchivedLogs:Yours

Yours
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jackson
In Absentia	15 October 2013 Wrapping plans just before the Team heads out.
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. Micah has just finished emptying another load of groceries into the cabinets and refrigerator (after dropping off non-vegan things in more appropriate neighbouring apartments), in preparation for a planned /marathon/ of cooking the next day. He has planned a day off (these are becoming oddly frequent!), not wanting to put actual-person-patients through dealing with his anticipated distraction, considering how detail-oriented his work tends to be. Out of sheer habit, he knocks at his own bedroom door simultaneously with opening it, not necessarily even expecting the room to be occupied. The shopping trip must have occurred straight after work, as he is dressed in his typical workplace attire: a TARDIS blue polo shirt worn over khakis. His hair is a particularly mussed-mess, looking more appropriate to someone who had just woken up than someone just home from the outside world, perhaps betraying more frequent nervous fussing with it than usual. Jax is home, already, and perhaps has been for a while. The room is filled with very /neat/ stacks of plastic tubs filled with supplies. Food, water, medical gear; it's been slightly rearranged since the morning; a clipboard on top of one of the boxes has a checklist that has been checked and re-checked a few times. Jax's backpack stands by the door, packed and ready to go, a bulletproof vest draped over it. Jax himself is not in bed but on it, atop the covers in cargo pants and dark t-shirt, one arm clutching an old worn Wish Bear tightly to his chest. He's been dozing, that much is clear from the illusions drifting around the room, ever-present when he sleeps and still more troubled lately than even his usual nightmares. At the moment, the floor runs red with blood; a few unfamiliar faces meeting brutal ends on graphic loop through his dreams. He's up in a heartbeat at the sound of the knock though, imagery slowly fading. He hugs his bear tighter, breathing halting. A moment later he relaxes, small smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't say anything, just opens his eyes to watch Micah quietly. The images still fading from the room earn a frown, eyebrows knitting as Micah steps inside. His steps on the floor may be a little more cautious than usual, despite knowing full-well that it is not actually slick beneath his feet. He walks over to the bed, leaning over to kiss Jax on the forehead. "Wish Bear was always my favourite," he says instead of inquiring as to how Jax is or how his day has been, knowing full well enough about those topics already. "She's the best colour /and/ has star-friends /and/ a neat telescope. Also, wishes are good." He sighs, chewing at his lip a moment before talking about less frivolous things. "I got a ton of food ready for prep tomorrow. Prob'ly gonna fill all the refrigerators in the participatin' apartments with every soup, stew, chili, curry, pasta, noodle-bowl, and casserole that I know how t'make on the cheap. We have comically large bags of rice, and all kinds of clothes an' first aid supplies an' toiletries an' whatnot on hand in all of 'em already." A hand scruffs through his already-messy hair. "I told Io in as vague terms as possible that it would be really great if his clinic might be able t'handle an unknown number of genetically-enhanced people in need of free urgent care this week." For a time Jax still doesn't answer; his eye slips closed again at the kiss, his smile warming. He lifts a hand, curling it around Micah, not hugging so much as just drifting fingers slowly up against Micah's back as the other man talks. He slides closer to the edge of the bed, reaching up his other hand to nudge Wish Bear into Micah's arm instead. Even after this he doesn't talk; his eye stays closed as he starts running fingers gently through Micah's messy hair, half head-scritching and half a slow rearrangement of its tousled mess, putting it gradually back in slightly more semblance of order. At some point during this he finally looks up again, swallowing before he speaks. "S'some froze curries an' stews in the freezer right now," he offers very quietly, "but t'ain't enough for a crowd. Just for you an' the boys, if you --" His fingers rub down harder against Micah's head. "-- ain't in the mood for cooking," he finishes this, after a pause. "Dusk says Isra's volunteered her place this afternoon, too. An' whatever help you need. I'll give y'her number, she'll be around for -- anything y'want t'call on for." The mention of Io gets a nod. "Good. Good." His nose wrinkles. "His clinic's gettin' kinda a workout afore it's even opened." Micah plants a playful kiss on Wish Bear's head, too, but doesn't take her, tugging at the hem of his shirt instead. “Oh, honey. I should change before I...handle cloth things. Or people. I'm still kinda hospital-y an' drooled-on.” He doesn't move yet, however, letting Jax fuss at his hair. His eyes fall closed for a moment. “That'll be useful for eatin' while new stuff's cookin'. S'gonna be /so/ much cookin', believe-you-me. Gonna haul the mattresses up between cookin' things. Should keep the day pretty busy.” He nods at the announcement about Isra. “Good. Need all the space we can get. Dusk's...got some connections from the Harlem thing as may be able t'take some folks again, too. Likely those with the fewest needs can get sent that way.” His eyes open again. “That's 'cause we've needed that clinic for a dog's age an' he's just the first person t'actually step up an' make it happen. Didn't matter how fast he did the job, was always gonna be late in comin'.” "It'll be busy," Jackson agrees quietly. "Filled the van with mattresses this afternoon. Think I kinda tired myself out on accident." He sits up when Micah tugs at the hem of his shirt, setting Wish Bear down on the bed beside himself and reaching to tug Micah's shirt, /too/, up and /off/. Not that this helps with the hair-straightening. "Can you handle people now? I think I'd like some handlin'." His hands rest against Micah's sides, fingers fiercely warm against his skin. “It's good y'caught a nap, then. Y'don't do that enough.” Micah doesn't protest the shirt-thievery, settling on the edge of the bed at Jax's other side. “You are /so/ warm. That never gets old. S'chilly out again.” He leans into Jax's touch, hands tracing down the other man's arms where they reach out to him. “Think I might be able t'handle that, yeah.” The worried and tired are washed from his expression by a bright smile directed at the other man. "Pretty much your own personal space-heater," Jax agrees with a quiet laugh. He nestles closer when Micah sits, curling one arm around the older man's waist and sliding closer to rest his head in Micah's lap. "Must be obnoxious in summer but pretty much I'm the best bed-mate in winter." His eye closes, fingers kneading mindlessly at Micah's side. "The kids wanted t'come home," he says with a note of guilt in his quiet voice, "but it -- seemed like -- school'd be better maybe. Lots to do. Keep to routine. Have other things t'think about." "Not obnoxious at all. I can handle a pretty impressive amount of hot." Micah grins at this. "Just not s'fond of cold. An' you're the best bed-mate /always/." When Jax shifts to lay his head in his lap, Micah's fingers move to massage at his scalp. "Ain't good for 'em t'miss much school if they can avoid it. Missed so much of it last year. If they just can't take it anymore by the time classes let out, they can always come back up after. I'm plannin' t'be in the buildin' all day, 'cept for Spencer delivery service an' any other little errands for things that come up along the way. Distractions...is nice. Though they might not be able t'concentrate so much on schoolwork, either... They got a lotta good friends at school there. It's...a good place." "Was wafflin' on it," Jax admits, "Spence'd like the pups home, at least, an' he don't got nobody around. Luci said Spence could go hang out with Gaetan an' Sera if he's gettin' too antsy but --" He shrugs. "He'll prob'ly be underfoot a lot." This is kind of apologetic. "An' he needs distractions the most 'cuz if he gets too worried he'll just try an' /find/ me an' --" He doesn't finish this thought, but his face pales slightly. His head butts up against Micah's hand, nuzzling up into the massage. "-- Luci'll be around if /you/ need anything, too, honey-honey. Even if that's just someone here with you through the wait, 'kay?" "Spence can go to Lucien's if he wants, or he can join in the cook-fest. Sure he wouldn't mind throwin' his hands into kitchen chaos. Kiddo's good with science experiments...sure he'd love stirrin' an' openin' an' measurin' an' pourin' things if he got t'feel like he's helpin' an' see what turns out after. He ain't gonna have a spare minute t'be chasin' after you, not t'worry. Y'got...plenty of worry already." Jax's nuzzles earn a redoubling of Micah's massage efforts, plying nails to scalp intermittently when his fingers are over hair. "Luci can always come over with his little ones, too, if that's the best combination for keepin' Spence occupied. We'll be so set." "-- Was thinkin' bout what's the best combination for /you/, too, honey-honey. Don't know what -- you'll be wantin' to do with yourself all day. Kids'll be at school. Luci's steady as a rock, if y'need --" Jax's hand trails around to Micah's stomach, nails tracing lightly against his skin. He draws in a breath, slow and shaky, and lets it out the same way. His head tips back, pressing a soft kiss to Micah's palm, and then his wrist. "No," he answers, very quietly. "I'll have worry t'morrow. Right now I don't got nothin' 'cept bein' here with you." “I know, hon. I pre-planned myself t'be...literally keepin' a lot of pots goin' pretty much all day. So I should be...okay. At the very least busy.” Micah's teeth find his lower lip, snagging it between them. “I'm sure Lucien's got better things t'be doin' when the kids are otherwise occupied, but I'll keep 'im in mind, okay?” There is a happy little hum as Jax's nails meet with Micah's skin, his abdominal muscles contracting just enough to be palpable beneath the other man's fingertips. Micah's own fingertips trace further down along the back of Jax's neck. “Right. Enough worryin' for t'morrow. I think you've already got a real good plan in place for the moment.” "He offered. Wasn't a question of if he's got nothin' better to do so much as -- if it'd be a help. With the cookin' or with you. Y'take care'a everyone so much. Can y'make me a promise that you'll make sure t'take care'a yourself, too?" Jax might not be /entirely/ accurate about not currently worrying, though at least at the moment his worry is focused right here with Micah and not on his team and their mission tomorrow. He shivers happily at the touch to his neck, and his head turns, mouth pressing now to the harder muscles beneath his fingertips. Just a soft light kiss, the hard metal of his piercings warmed by the heat of his lips. "I love you." His breath ghosts warm against Micah's stomach, nails pressing in a little harder as they skim down to curl fingers into the waistband of Micah's khakis. "I promise," Micah swears simply. "Y'got no worryin' t'do on my account." The combination of touches and kisses, warm metal and light breath results in Micah trembling slightly, goosebumps raising on the skin beneath Jax's lips despite only warmth being offered there. "I love you, too, honey. So much." The harder press of nails has him digging his fingertips more firmly into the muscles at the back of Jax's neck, sliding his hand back up to the other man's hair. He flexes his fingers, pressing knuckles to Jax's scalp, trapping the still-short hair between them as his fingers splay apart and then close tight. He tugs from this grip, turning Jax's face toward him and pulling his head up far enough that simply leaning in brings his lips to the other man's for a sudden, rather forceful kiss. Jax's eye widens, breath catching when Micah's fingers grip his hair tight. There's a soft reflexive whimper that sounds in his throat, and his hand lifts to curl fingers very gently around the back of Micah's neck. His body melts in closer to Micah's, a sudden surrender of tension as his mouth presses back. Deep, fierce, returning this forcefulness with a strong swell of need. Micah's teeth press gently against Jax's lower lip, pulling it into Micah's mouth...but with none of the usual worry or nervousness that accompanies the gesture when it is Micah's /own/ lip that his teeth catch. His tongue strokes along the other man's lip, flicking at one of the piercings there before releasing him once more. Micah's hands slip down to allow his arms to twine around the other man's torso, pulling him closer in a tight hug. Jax's arms curl around Micah in return, squeezing the older man tight. His head nestles against Micah's shoulder after the kiss breaks off, forehead tucking beneath Micah's chin. "I love you, Sir." His voice is quieter, this time. His fingers press hard against Micah's side. "I want you. Is it alright to want you right now? I don't want to worry about all those other things. I just --" His lips press to Micah's neck, arms still squeezing tight. "-- Just want you." Micah's chin rubs gently back against Jax as he tucks his head in against him. He pets idly at Jax's hair. “Oh...honey, I don't think I ever /stop/ wantin' you. It's absolutely alright.” His other hand sneaks beneath the hem of Jax's shirt, fingertips tickling along his waist to the base of his spine before curling nails inward to track slowly, lingeringly up to where the backbone disappears into the base of the skull. “If I can /make/,” Micah pauses just a breath, his fingers pressing into the back of Jax's neck, nails digging little half-moons into the skin there at the emphasis of that word, “y'not worry, even for a little while, I'll consider it quite the accomplishment.” "Mmmh." It's a soft happy moan of sound; Jax shivers when Micah's nails dig into him. His head tips forward, nuzzling further against Micah's neck, and he presses hungrier kisses to Micah's neck and collarbone. "Oh --" His voice is soft, a quiet breathy whisper. "Sir, m'Yours. You could make me do most anything y'wanted. Alls /I/ want is to --" His head lifts, lips pressing softly to Micah's for a moment. "-- be yours."