ArchivedLogs:Present

Present
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve
In Absentia	2016-05-13 "You're here."
Location <NYC> S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters - Interview Room
The room is small, but nicely appointed. The walls are painted a neutral buff color, the furniture light-colored maplewood and upholstered in earth tones. Here and there, little splashes of brighter green trim and edging pop in unexpected places. There is the expected table and straight-backed chairs near the door, though there is a chess board built into the tabletop and neat drawers with chess and checkers pieces along the side. A brown L-shaped couch occupies one corner, bracketing an oval glass-topped coffee table with a matching armchair. Nearby, a sideboard supports an arcane computerized coffee machine as well as a simple pitcher of water on a tray with cups. A wide window admits ample natural light during the day and affords a view of the midtown skyline. All of this notwithstanding, the door locks from the outside and is always guarded. Late afternoon sun is splashing warm in through the window, spilling down over the couch and coffee table. It's an occupied couch, at the moment, though its sole occupant isn't -- precisely /seated/. Presumably Jax was seated, at one point, but now he's twisted himself around, kneeling, his back to the room, eye focused out at the city. He's dressed plainly -- plain white tee, plain grey sweatpants. A dark scruff of beard shadowing his far-too-pale face, dark hair grown out a little shaggy around his oddly unadorned ears. His fingertips are planted lightly against the window, a faint tremble in his hands that is echoed in the very pale shiver of light -- barely visible with the brighter sun -- that quivers around him. A soft chim issues from the panel beside the entrance. The lock clicks open, and a moment later the door opens for Steve, then closes behind him. He's wearing a pink pinpoint Oxford shirt and charcoal gray slacks, his shield slung across his back. For just a moment he stands stock-still, his lips parted. Then he's crossing the room in three long steps, inhumanly fast. Sinking to his knees beside the couch. Stretching out his hands out but not quite touching the other man, his fingertips shaking. "Jax!" His whisper is hoarse, low. Jax's fingers press down harder against the window, his breath hitching as Steve crosses the room. He doesn't turn, though, not at first. His head tips forward to drop against the glass, the tremor spreading from his hand up into his shoulders. Something shivers around Steve, too -- a faint glow that flushes in a warm halo around him and then fades away. Jax doesn't move from where he kneels, just pulls in a shaky breath. "Are you here?" His voice is very quiet. Steve's breath catches in his throat. His hands close the last couple of inches to Jax's shoulders. He gently coaxes the other to turn around. "I'm here." His voice breaks; but then steadier, quieter, "I'm here." Jax's shoulder trembles beneath Steve's hand, unsteady and, by his usual standards, quite cool to the touch. He curls a little tighter in on himself, initially, at the touch, but then turns. His eye glistens bright, his hand dropping from the window to touch lightly to Steve's arm. "Oh. /Oh/. I -- I -- you. You're. /Oh/." Steve's hand stops shaking when Jax turns to him. His fingers curl firmly around behind the other man's shoulders, gathering him closer. "They're still sorting out the logistics of visitation, but since I already have my own badge and biometric profile and all that..." He trails off when Jax's fingers come to rest on his arm. His eyes blink shut and he breathes out, slow and shivery. "But yes. I'm here. And you'll see the pups and Spence, too, soon." The mention of his children hitches Jax's breath again; as he squeezes his eye shut the tears that had been threatening to spill over do so now, trickling down Jax's scarred cheek. "Are they okay?" The hitch in his breath carries over to his voice. "Are -- are /you/ --" He swallows, slowly opening his eye again to look at Steve's face. /Study/ Steve's face, eye still gleaming. "You're here." "They..." Steve begins, but hesitates, frowning. "They're tired and stressed and worried sick, but they're dealing." His hands knead firmly at Jax's shoulder and back. "Me -- I'm. /Kind of/ a mess." His eyes are watering, but a corner of his mouth ticks, the ghost of a crooked smile. "I'm dealing, too. And I'm here." He presses a kiss to Jax's forehead, then to his damp cheek. "How are /you/ feeling? Tian-shin said you'd been very ill..." Jax exhales, slow and shaky, leaning in heavily against Steve. His arms curl up around the other man, sliding beneath the shield, his head tucking in against Steve's shoulder. "B'll be home from Boston soon, right? That. That'll be -- better. Better for them t'be together. Better for..." He swallows, fingers scrunching up hard to wrinkle the dress shirt into his fists. "In the other place they kept. Kept -- kept our powers shut... off. It. Makes me... makes me pretty sick. I'm still -- adjusting. Back." He bites down on his lip, forehead still mooshing hard against the bigger man's shoulder. Softer: "... which. Ain't the real answer, I guess. I'm. It's been. I been..." He shakes his head, gripping Steve tighter. "B will be back soon, yes. She stayed down here as long as she could, and it was -- better." Steve's arms tighten around Jax fractionally, but he forces his grip to ease a moment later. One hand slides up to the back of Jax's head, rubbing gently. His own shoulders tense and relax in turn. He nuzzles Jax's neck gently, his own face cleanshaven and smooth. Doesn't press for a clearer answer. Just holds the other man close. He opens his mouth again as if to speak, but no words come out. The tears that roll down his face come quietly, dampening Jax's shoulder, soaking into his shirt. Jax doesn't say anything more just yet, either. His hand curls up to rest at the back of Steve's neck, his other arm wrapped tight and hard around the other man's back. His eye scrunches back shut where his face presses up against the (formerly) crisper fabric of Steve's dress shirt, the light quivering around them in time with his unsteady breaths. Steve doesn't move for some time, save for the intermittent shuddering of his shoulders -- less and less frequent. Finally, he lifts his head from the crook of Jax's shoulder. Slips his hand beneath the other man's chin and tips his face upward, the better for Steve to study. The whites of his eyes are a little red, but his gaze is rapt with wonder. "I love you," he says, soft and low. "And you're here."