ArchivedLogs:Transactions

Transactions
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Lucien
In Absentia	26 December 2013 Jax and Micah go to talk to Lucien about the twins'...present. Cue all the awkwardness and blushing.
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. Knock knock knock! It's quite late for a casual social call, but Jax has texted ahead of time to make sure it's /okay/ to swing by once he's off work. He's in guard uniform again, plain black pants, red-trimmed black button-down with red Mendel Clinic logo on the pocket. He's got his black HERBIVORE hoodie on over this, silver jacket, hair brilliantly lime-green with purple streaks. Silver-black-red makeup. Red and black striped scarf and knit cap and mittens. A fidgety restless bounce to his step as he waits on Lucien's doorstep. It is late and /cold/. Micah is dressed as is typical for him in such weather: orange Jayne hat, olive puffy coat, massively long candy corn striped scarf, green striped gloves. He has been home long enough to change into casual clothes, at least, jeans visible under the coat and Batsignal hoodie with chocolate brown Firefly dinosaur shirt hidden beneath it. His cheeks are rosy already, perhaps from the cold or perhaps whatever has him fiddling with the ends of his scarf as he waits at Jax's side. It does not take long for the (freshly painted /new/) door to open. Lucien is casually dressed, jeans and a dark button down in a fading gradient of greys. He opens the door wider, gesturing the other men inside. The house is only dimly lit at the moment, and looks somewhat different than before. New kitchen cabinets, new couch and loveseat in the living room though Matt's favourite armchair is still there, a lingering sawdust-and-fresh-paint smell from where windows have been replaced and the hallway has been repainted. Fewer fish in the aquariums. "Please. Come in. Can I take your coats?" He holds out a hand, beckoning. "Would you care for something to drink?" Jax is already starting to unwind his scarf from around his neck as he steps inside. His cheeks are /preemptively/ flushing, teeth toying restlessly with his lip rings. "Ohgosh, hi, thank you." He tucks hat and gloves into his jacket pockets and slips out of his coat, surrendering it to Lucien before stooping to unlace his boots. "Um -- oh." He fidgets at the cuffs around his wrists, glancing upwards. "Some -- more light would be good," he says with a deeper blush, and then, "Oh wait, drink. Yes. Please." Micah's face also does not lose its red colouring for stepping inside the warm house. “Evenin' Luci. Thanks for havin' us this late. Place's lookin' amazin' again. Are they done all the work that needed doin' yet?” He quits his own hat and gloves, shoving them into one coat pocket before overstuffing the other with scarf. Unzipping the coat, he pulls it off and lays it over one arm before working off his boots. “Oh...if there ain't a place I can just put it m'self. Thanks, hon.” He rights himself once the boots are off. “Some tea wouldn't go unappreciated if y'please. S'gone an' got cold out again.” "Oh, the work is largely finished save for the study. I will still need to replace some of the furniture but --" Lucien turns his hand upward. "It is livable again. Though I also," he says with deep regret, hanging up Jackson's jacket and turning to pluck Micah's off the arm and put it in the closet as well, "need to replenish the entire stock of my bar and much of my tea cabinet. You know, stealing I can understand but many things they simply destroyed." His lips press together, and he starts off towards the kitchen once coats are hung, to pre-warm a teapot and cups with hot water. He switches on lights along the way -- hallway, living room, kitchen, turning them all on and sliding the dimmer switches up to their brightest levels. "If you'd like to make arrangements," he adds lightly, "I actually have a fair bit of free time in the upcoming week, though after the New Year it is busier once again. -- Ah, that is. I take it your children /have/ spoken with you already?" "That is kinda terrible. I mean, everyone was lookin' for food an' warm clothes an' -- but just tearin' things apart for no reason ain't --" Jax shakes his head, leaving his boots neatly lined up against the wall and drawing in a relieved breath when the lights switch on. He stands to pad after Lucien towards the kitchen, folding his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. The question pulls his cheeks even more red. "Oh -- ohgosh. Yeah, they -- they mentioned that they'd -- ohgosh." He lifts a hand, rubbing his cheek with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Yes, they. Told us. An' that is what we come to talk about but not to -- arrange. We just, Luci, I apologize but that weren't a gift that we can accept." "Well, at least that means it's comin' along. Sure you'll have everythin' done up proper again in no time. S'a shame, all that goin' t'waste." Micah trails along behind the others, moving through the halls. He fusses his hair a little bit straighter from the right mess his knit hat has made of it. Lucien's mention of arrangements dials his faint colouring into a fierce crimson flush. "Oh. Ohthat. Right. We were comin' t'say that...won't be happenin' like the boys were plannin'." His hands fidget with the pull tab of the zipper on his hoodie. Lucien measures out coconut oolong into a basket, tipping the water in the pot back out once it is warm. He's just going to fill the pot from an electric heater when he stops, setting it back down on the countertop and turning to look at the others with a faint lift of brows. A ghost of a smile crosses over his lips, fading away again as he inclines his head in acceptance, turning to fill the teapot. "{I am sorry,}" is in mild French, "that you did not find the gift to your liking. Really, you did not need to come all the way here just to cancel." Now Jax's other hand comes up to clap against his cheek, face sort of buried against the ends of his sleeves. "Oh gosh, no, honey-honey, it ain't -- oh /gosh/. I mean, /you're/ definitely to my --" He makes a wordless muffled /noise/ against his sleeves, shaking his head quickly. "It ain't that I don't want -- because believe me, you're -- um. It's just. We been tryin' to work with Shane on -- appropriate parent-child boundaries and /sex/ for Christmas ain't --" His hands drop, face still furiously red. "Plus, Luci, you're my /friend/, I don't. Want. /That/. From you." “No, honey, don't...apologise. Y'ain't done nothin' an' it's nothin' personal, just...” Micah nods in agreement with Jax's explanation, taking a few moments just to /blush/ mutely. “Just weren't no kinda appropriate. 'Specially with the boys bein'...any kinda involved with it.” He chews at his lip. “It didn't seem like the kinda thing t'discuss just...over the phone. Y'know?” Lucien flips over a timer -- it is /actually/ an hourglass, of which there are a few different sizes in the cabinet beside the tea-things. "The boys simply thought that with all the stresses in your lives of late, you could use some small respite." He leans back against the counter opposite it, fingers curling loosely in against the counter's edge. "I am not sure why friendship is incompatible with enjoying the services I provide." His eyes fix on the hourglass, watching the black sand trickle downward. "-- Though it is presumptive of me to assume you would enjoy --mmm. I am not generally," the corner of his mouth twitches just faintly again, "in the habit of refunding deposits for appointments but in Sebastian's case I can make an exception." "Ohgosh. Of /course/ I'd enjoy -- that ain't even a --" Jackson hides his face behind his sleeves again. "Luci," it's somewhat muffled against his sweatshirt now, "you're one of the most attractive -- people I have /ever/ -- this ain't. About. Ohgosh. It's just with the boys and --" He drops his hands with a wince. "It ain't -- incompatible, I guess." Now he looks uncertain. "It just -- seems like -- I'd want -- if we were gonna --" But here he just stops, kind of /flustered/ now, weight shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. There is no end of blushing this evening, it seems. Between his /own/ discomfiture and Jax's extreme stammery-fluster, the heat and colour have already crept into Micah's neck and ears. “Thanks for...understandin' as far as the twins are concerned.” He shakes his head, looking down at the zipper pull pinched between his fingers. “Lucien...honey. We done had this talk already. You ain't a.../service/. You're our friend. An', at least for me, I don't want t'be doin' anythin' /you/ don't want.” "Yes, we did." Lucien's eyes shift over to Micah, another half-smile toying with his lips. "I recall that last talk ending --" His hand turns up, fingers curling outward towards Micah. "Quite pleasantly." The red creeps outward, bleeding a faint crimson glow into the air around Jax. His eye fixes very intently on the sand in the timer. "Luci, I don't. Want to just --" He scrunches his eye shut, taking a deep breath. "S'just, you /are/ beautiful an' it ain't just because you're gorgeous it's -- I don't want to feel like I'm. /Using/ you, if we -- ever did -- I jus' want /you/ to be enjoying --" Once again his words trail off, flustered. Micah nods again in agreement with Jax, the heat in his face burning brighter yet at that little smile and reminder from Lucien. "Honey, I just...meant what I said. You're my friend an' I love you an'...if all y'want is t'feel what I'm feelin', I can give y'that without needin' anythin' more. Without pushin' anythin' y'/don't/ want. That still makes sense, right?" Almost shyly, he slips his fingers into Lucien's hand, like an awkward teenager at a school dance. Lucien removes the basket of tea from the pot when the sand runs out. He doesn't pour the tea yet, though. He studies the others' faces, exhaling a long slow breath. "It made sense before, and it makes sense now." His fingers curl warmly against Micah's, mind reaching out in habitual scan of Micah's state and mood. A warm trickle of happiness washes back, a faint buzzy tinge of pleasure curling out as well. "I am not sure why you have reverted to assuming again that I would not enjoy it, though. I do not /accept/ clientele whose company I do not enjoy. If I accept an engagement, it is because I /want/ to." Jackson opens his mouth, and then closes it again. His brows furrow, eye searching first Lucien's face and then Micah's. He fidgets again, shifting his weight back against the counter opposite Lucien and dragging his teeth against his lower lip. His teeth click in restless worrying at a lip ring, but he stays otherwise quiet, dropping his gaze to the ground with a small frown. Micah's eyes fix on his hand and Lucien's, a soft breath nearing on a sigh at the warm feelings the other man imparts. His own feelings are a surface of flustered discomfiture that was already obvious on his face, a background of the typical love-friendship-concern that is always directed toward Lucien, and a lingering knotted-stomach nervous near-sickness that hasn't managed to abate completely since his afternoon of enhanced target practice with Regan. "I reverted t'that assumption 'cause it's what y'/told/ me, hon. Y'don't know what y'want 'cause y'can't. You're not sure what's okay 'cause y'don't know what that /is/ anymore. When I'm kissin' someone an' I ask if they're okay with it...I need more'n an 'I don't know', sugar. Otherwise I just feel like I'm takin' advantage. An' I don't want t'do that." Redder circles appear on his cheeks at the mention of the kiss, feelings that are echoes of the ones from that night weaving through what Lucien can sense from him. "You are not well," Lucien murmurs first, thumb tracing slowly against the back of Micah's hand and his eyes narrowing on the other man in scrutiny. His eyes close, weight sinking back against the counter. "Micah, I did not -- you are not --" There's an uncharacteristic note of strain in Lucien's voice, lending his gentle baritone a discomfited edge. A faint tension works its way into his jaw, but it eases off with his next slow exhale. His expression relaxes back into bland neutrality. "-- You are very quiet." His eyes have opened again, fixing on Jackson with this remark. "Don't know what okay is?" Jackson repeats this, a little puzzled, looking over Lucien with concern written into his expression. "-- Not well?" The concern isn't /lessening/. "No, yeah, I -- just thinking I guess, I don't -- the /appointment/ ain't important, Luci, I jus' -- is everything alright?" With both of them, perhaps; his gaze flicks between the other two uncertainly. “I'm fi--” Micah shakes his head, changing the answer to something more satisfactory mid-sentence. “It's nothin' I can't handle. I'm not sick.” His eyes stay on their hands, deliberately not looking back at Jax. “You didn't...? Did I misinterpret what y'told me? I don't mean t'misrepresent you, but that's what I /heard/, at least.” He presses his hand more firmly into Lucien's, allowing him to give the other man's hand a small squeeze. "No, you are not sick, but you are unwell all the same." Lucien's other hand lifts, fingertips touching lightly to Micah's chin to turn the other man's face up towards him. His eyes study Micah's a long moment. "Small wonder your boys thought you could use an escape." He releases Micah's hand, turning to pour three cups of tea. "Wait one minute." He leaves them in the kitchen, slipping quietly out of the room. Jax's brow furrows deeper. "Luci, that weren't --" Now he looks a little at a loss as to /who/ to turn his concern on, fingers scrunching through his hair. "Micah? Honey?" He bites down on his lip, frowning still as he looks to his partner. "What does he mean, what's wrong? With -- him /or/ you, oh gosh." Micah flinches slightly under the close scrutiny, but doesn't look away, teeth just digging into his lower lip sharply. He doesn't deny Lucien's assessment, simply nodding when Lucien excuses himself and taking up the other man's position leaning against the counter for support. "Ain't my place t'tell you what's goin' on with him an'...I /can't/. Talk about it. I'll tell you in a few days, okay? I just can't for now." His fingers grip tightly against the countertop. Lucien returns in short order, a red envelope in his hand with a pattern of leaves and flowers decorating it in gold. It is somewhat bulky, twenty crisp hundred dollar bills tucked away inside it. He sets the envelope down on the counter beside Micah. "Please, return that to the twins. Did you drive here, or would you like a ride home?" Jackson steps in closer to Micah in Lucien's absence, curling his arm around his husband's waist. He kisses Micah's forehead, and then his temple, squeezing the other man snugly to him. "Oh --okay, I --" His tone is hesitant, concern still clear in his expression when he pulls back just slightly to look at Micah better. "I don't -- want to push you into talkin' about nothin' you ain't --" He bites his lip, too. "-- Just, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I /love/ you, I just. I love you." He doesn't pull /back/ when Lucien returns, though his grip loosens. "Oh --" He stares down at the envelope blankly. "Right, we -- I come on the subway but you don't gotta -- it ain't far. Just, Luci, honey, we didn't -- come here because we don't. /Want/ you, we come cuz we -- love you, I don't. Understand where this got all complicated." Micah's eyes squeeze closed at the kisses, though he opens them again to nuzzle into Jax's shoulder soon after. "I know, honey. There's just some practical concerns that get in the way sometimes. I promise we'll...talk about it. In a few days." He turns his face to bring the nuzzling against Jax's neck. "I love you, too, honey. I can handle it. S'just...time, okay?" He does pull back slightly when Lucien returns, though he takes up Jax's arm to place a kiss to the inside of his wrist as he does so. He nods at Lucien's request, taking the envelope and folding it to fit into his pocket, though it still sticks out of the top a bit. "Thanks, honey, I will. I drove. I can drive us. Not t'worry. S'that mean y'want us t'go? I...didn't mean t'be upsettin'. Sor--apologies if I...said somethin'..." Lucien's eyes track the envelope as Micah puts it away. His jaw clenches just a little bit tighter, weight easing back a half-step away from the other men. There is a stretch of silence, his gaze settling down on the three cups of tea, still steaming. His hands lace together behind his back, and he draws in a slow breath. "Please go," he finally affirms, voice quiet and steady. "{Good night.}" Jax's hand runs up against Micah's back, fingers rubbing at the back of the other man's head through the nuzzling. "I --" He bites down at his lip again, expression screwing up unhappily. He closes his eye tight at the small kiss, nodding. "OK. Time. OK." He takes a step back, arms wrapping against his chest. "Oh --" His expression scrunches up again. He takes a step toward Lucien, hand lifting -- but drops it abruptly to his side, rocking back onto his heels with a kind of /confused/ look. "Honey, you --" He bites his lip harder, small depressions dug into it when he finally releases it. "Okay." His tone has gotten smaller, meeker now. "I love you. Goodnight, hon." His shoulders tense up, arms crossing against his chest again as he turns to head back towards the door and get his boots back on. Micah nods at Jax's repetition, letting go so that he can step away. “Okay,” he also replies softly to Lucien's request. “Love you, hon. Please don't...this isn't...” His hand touches the envelope in his pocket. “Don't want to hurt you. Just...love you.” He waves a small wave as he moves out of the room, also retrieving his outdoor wear in preparation for the trip home. Lucien doesn't answer any of this. He leans back against the counter, eyes still fixed on the cooling cups of tea. He only moves once the other men are heading out, and then only in order to lock the front door securely behind them.