ArchivedLogs:Both

Both
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Tag
In Absentia	2012-12-24 Warning, kisses.
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - 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 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. Christmas Eve in New York City. Chilly winter sunlight struggles through a layer of brooding clouds, with no promise of rain or snow to come. There is a hint of bustle out on the streets, more festive than nervous for once. An evergreen tree stands in the living room of Lighthaus, looking vaguely incongruous, like the forerunner of a taiga preparing to invade. Tag lets himself in and struggles out of his combat boots. He wears many layers of clothing under his hot pink windbreaker, but shivers incessantly all the same. One leg of his blue jeans is rolled up to expose magenta-and-purple striped socks. His gloves are shocking purple and very scuffed, and a matching backpack looks like it might burst its zipper. Lighthaus is not empty when Tag arrives, though Jax is at work till later in the afternoon and Spencer next door and Shane in his room. Dusk is here, sweeping; though everything was swept yesterday a dog and a cat and an eight year old and a pine tree has left a showering of pine needles scattered yet again across the floor. As is his habit at home, he's dressed only in jeans, barefoot, no shirt; his wings shift somewhat restlessly at his back. "Yo. Tag. What's up, you gonna be off work for once tonight?" "Hey Dusk!" Tag shucks his windbreaker to reveal a hoodie covered in red, orange, and yellow flame designs. He pads over to drop his backpack on the couch, then himself beside it as if there were no strength left in his body to even remain upright. Not half a second later, though, he has popped back up to offer Dusk a hug. "I got a /bonus,/ isn't that crazy?" His hood slips off his head and a mess of pale, icy blue hair tumbles free along with a hair tie that had worked itself loose. "Yeah, I'm off tonight /and/ tomorrow night! Is gaming still on? I mean, with all these other haps..." Dusk's wing curls soft and warm around Tag's shoulders; he switches his broom to his other hand to hold it out of the way of hugging. "There /have/ been kind of a lot of, uh," his lips curl up into an amused smile, "haps. But yeah we're gaming come on with all the shit everyone needs a little relaxation. And uh -- gonna be kind of crowded around here tomorrow too. Twins kind of invited their whole school over." Tag's clothes are still clammy from the outside air, but he stops quivering and relaxes into the embrace of warm, massive wings. He wraps his arms around Dusk, laying his hands and cheek unselfconsciously against the taller man's torso. "Man, I've had some /fierce/ gaming withdrawal." Pulling back, he looks at he broom, then at the floor. "I was thinking about getting started on the food prep, get the stir-fry done and be out of the way by the time Jax gets back. Can help you with cleaning up if you need it, though." Suddenly, he looks up at Dusk. His eyes are cornflower blue. "You doing OK, all things considered? I haven't seen much of you cept coming and going, and...the news." Dusk wraps his wing tighter around Tag, brushing it softly against the back of Tag's head. He shivers briefly, at the touch of just-been-outside hands against his chest, muscles tightening and goosebumps prickling his skin, but he doesn't pull away. "Mmm, well, we got your fix, then. Real premium shit. The first hit's free, too." His sharp smile curls wider when he admits: "... all the other hits are also free. Um. /Big/ party's not till tomorrow, I don't know, might have to do the /real/ cleanup once gaming's finished." His brows hitch up at Tag's sudden question. "Haven't really seen much of you either. Seems like there's been a /plague/ -- uh. Of busy. Not just of zombies." "Oh, yeah. Hands are kinda frozen. It's that wind." Tag sighs, but does not sound overly sheepish about using Dusk as a heating pad. "Feels like snow out there, though they say it isn't gonna happen." He finally releases Dusk. "Thanks, I...guess I got more than just /gaming/ withdrawal." His cheeks flush, though probably as much from warming back up as anything else. "I got two and a half jobs. Quit the temp place, but then picked it up again cuz it pays better than delivering stuff." He shrugs. "It's good, though, I need to keep busy. Can't sit still. You know?" Dusk is slow to let go even once Tag does, wing loosening straightaway but not quite dropping /away/. "That's okay. I've got your fix of that, too. S'free also." His smile curls a little crookedly. "Yeah. Yeah, I feel you there. I've had -- a hard time with that these past months, too. Jobs are good. Can save up, buy a nice tent for when we're all evicted." Tag brushes his hand, not so freezing cold now but still cool, along the inside of Dusk's wing. "I already got a tent, but I should probably save up anyway." His brows knit slightly. "I've lived in some punk houses before. Maybe we can start one. Not necessarily a /punk/ house in particular, I mean a collective or commune or something. Kinda half way there already, yeah?" The slender fingers of Tag's hand follow the curve of the Dusk's wing. "I should let you get back to...things." He mumbles this absently, without much conviction. "Cleaning, I mean. Or I could..." "Everyone's already two steps ahead of you on that, actually. Jax and Micah wanted to start a co-housing place and Hive's already looking into property. /Probably/ nobody's gonna need tents. Maybe." Dusk shivers, drawing in a slow breath as Tag's fingers trace up against his wing. His other wing curls inward, brushing softly against Tag's arm. His hand lifts, fingers cupping gently at the side of Tag's face. "Big party's not till tomorrow. We've got time." "Oh, that's a relief!" Tag lets out a sort of nervous chuckle. "Because I'm not great at doing anything organized. Pretty OK at pitching tents, though." This time he blushes in earnest, caressing Dusk's other wing as it encircles him. "You hungry? I mean, I /can/ still make stir-fry, but...I'm also full of blood." He leans hard into Dusk's hand, like a cat whose caretakers have been away for too long. "Though, to be honest...I just really want to touch you. Whether or not that involves being food." "I'm always hungry." Dusk's head tips downward with Tag's lean into his hand, lips brushing softly against the side of the smaller man's neck. His tongue flicks out, tracing lightly against skin. "/And/ I want to touch you. And really want to kiss you. Can it be both? Stir-fry can wait." Tag closes his eyes and shivers, though he's clearly not cold any more. His hands trace Dusk's wings back to where they join his shoulders. His tiny fingers kneading the powerful muscles that move those wings. When his eyes open, they're vivid purple instead of blue. "It can totally be both." He nuzzles Dusk's neck and turns, pressing their lips together. A small hungry moan shivers out of Dusk, his mouth pressing back full and deep to Tag's. His muscles shift and flex as his wings curl firmer around Tag, not simply caressing anymore but actually lifting the smaller man, holding Tag's body against his own. He lets the broom clatter down against the wall, backing up towards the ladder leading up to Tag's loft. His other hand slips beneath Tag's shirt, fingertips skimming warm against the other man's stomach. "Then both."