Logs:Flat-Footed

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Flat-Footed
Dramatis Personae

Jax, Steve

In Absentia


2021-02-14


"Am I being ambushed?"

Location

<NYC> St Martin's Church - Harlem


St. Martin de Porres Catholic Church is not large, but it has a quiet majesty to it all the same, in the way of many old churches. A tall stone building tucked into the center of Harlem, it is one of the earliest Catholic churches in the city, and it looks it. Inside, the wooden pews stretch off towards the alter, the crucifix an immense and solemn wooden carving that presides over it all. Most of the windows are stained class, rich and vibrantly colourful depictions of various saints and Biblical scenes. Small recesses along the wall hold the Stations of the Cross depicted in intricate stone carvings, and the prayer alcove holds real flickering votive candles unlike many modern churches who have switched over to electric. The vaulted ceiling has detailed painting done between its arches, and the distinctive scent of frankincense often lingers faintly in the air.

Below, the basement of the church has been heavily modernized; there is a pair of meeting rooms for classes, a pair of bathrooms with showers, a door leading out to the tiny adjoining rectory building where the pastor lives. In tribute to the church's namesake, ministries for the poor are a large part of the church community; one room holds a wealth of donated clothing that is free for any to take. With the large dining room and industrial kitchen that serve hot dinners six days a week and distribute donated bags of groceries every Monday, there are frequent visitors through here who are often in need of the helping hand.

Morning service has recently concluded, and the parishioners are making their leisurely way into the great hall in the basement, which has been decorated effusively in pink and red, and well provisioned with candy to boot. Steve has stolen away early, though -- an unusual if not unheard-of state of affairs that will likely inspire some curious but good-natured whispering at fellowship.

Now he is outside in the brisk winter air, lingering near the side door that lets out from the fellowship hall, swiping away intently on his phone while standing just off of the concrete walk, leaning casually against a winter-bare tree. He's in his Sunday best, a gray trench coat over a classic navy suit sharply tailored to flatter his muscular physique, a stark white broadcloth shirt cinched with a tie that looks red from some angles and black from others. His shield harness is slung from one shoulder, probably to make leaning on a tree less awkward, but combined with his posture it lends him a slightly rakish air. The shield itself has been modified, the silver star at its center replaced, today, with a pale metallic pink heart.

Jax has been downstairs helping set the food up but isn't actually staying to eat it, buckling his bright red peacoat over his deep plum suit as he slips out the door. He's tugging black and rainbow knit mittens onto his hands, curling his arms tight around his chest as he hastens down the walk. His excessive pallor only makes his flush that much more apparent when his eyes catch first on the heart-shield and then Steve, head dipping in greeting with a small smile though his steps hitch only briefly. "Mornin', sugar. No coffee for you today?"

Steve looks up as Jax nears, and tucks away his phone, his own smile easy and warm. "Hey there. It was a tough decision, but I'm not keen on the matchmaking that's probably lying in wait for me down there." He glances back at his shield. Blushes, himself. "That was all Tag. Sorry to ah, ambush you like this. A real Millennial would've just texted. I just want to talk -- we can keep moving, so you don't freeze." He gestures toward the sidewalk. "Or get inside somewhere. It's definitely nothing urgent, though, if you've got plans, or just..." His eyes flick over Jax, brows furrowing briefly, concerned. "...don't feel like talking right now."

"My real exciting plans is -- take a nap an' recover from chaperoning a few hundred loud awkward teenagers at the school dance last night. Guess you got no plans you're rushing off to, then?" There's something quietly sadder in Jax's voice as he glances again to the shield, but it's gone by the time he looks back up with a laugh. "Oh gosh I been frozen since 'bout November." He unfolds one arm, mitten pressing briefly against his mouth as he stifles a yawn; for once this does actually faintly smudge the metallic lipstick he's wearing, leaving iridescent traces against the yarn when he drops his hand. "Am I being ambushed? You got me at -- several disadvantages."

"That does sound exciting," Steve says, evidently sincere. "The nap, I mean, though maybe the dance, too?" His gaze lingers on the other man for a moment, unreadable. "You ah --" He starts to lift his braced, gnarled right hand to Jax's face. Hesitates. "-- smudged a bit, there. I'd be impressed with myself and worried about you if I actually succeeded in ambushing you. I was just..." Looks down at the toes of his dress boots briefly. Back up. "I had planned to ask someone to lunch, make up for the missed coffee with interest, but then considered maybe I shouldn't just -- go off half-cocked. Was hoping you could give me some advice."

"Oh --" Jax flushes again, deeper, when Steve's hand starts to lift. His head dips; when he lifts it again the smudge has vanished, lipstick impeccably neat if ever so slightly lighter in shade. "I'm -- sorry, I don't quite --" He wrings his hands briefly, then tucks them into the crooks of his elbows. After a quick glance over his shoulder back to the closed church door he continues -- slower, now -- back toward the sidewalk. "Advice on -- askin' someone out? Like a specific someone or is this a generalized kind of dating advice 'cuz I'm pretty sure you could kinda have -- your pick of --" His face scrunches. "Sorry. What's the question?"

"I don't -- mind," Steve sounds a bit sheepish, "I just thought you might. You actually look great. Without the illusion." Adds, hastily. "With the illusion, too." His wince is fleeting as he matches his pace to the smaller man's. "A date is never just a date with me -- not with the media how it is. Not with me being --" He draws a deep breath. Lets it out. "But no, actually I was thinking of how it might affect Ryan if I started dating again. Obviously Luci can handle the publicity side, but I mean...emotionally." His right hand starts to clench at his side. Then relaxes. "I should just talk to him. I want to just talk to him. But I'm worried I'll make a hash of it. Again." He looks aside at Jax, his eyes just a touch wider than usual. "I understand if you don't feel right talking about this without him. Just figured it was worth asking, as close as you two are."

"You were thinking of -- oh." Jax's eye widens, head ducking in time with a very brief flutter of pink in the air around him. "Oh -- Ry -- right." He starts to lift a hand to his face again but drops it, wrapping it back around his chest once more. "Right. I mean --" His smile is slow, a little lopsided. "You could just talk to him. It wasn't -- exactly a one-sided kinda hash an' I don't think he's got no plans to -- well." His lips press together briefly. "What d'you think would happen if you talked to him?"

Steve blushes fiercely, himself, though it's not necessarily clear why. He nods wordlessly, listening. Frowns, thoughtful. "I don't know -- maybe it'll be fine. I haven't had any trouble talking to him since we ah...made up." Somehow he manages to blush even harder, the heat radiating from his skin almost palpable. "Possibly because that was as mysterious to me as how we fell out to begin with, and I've just unthinkingly avoided any topic I imagined might trigger him since." His jaw sets hard, his head shaking once, quick. "With all that was going on, I desperately wanted us to be okay. Now I actually think about it, that seems wildly unfair to him."

"Well, that sounds." Jax's cheeks puff out, his breath expelled quick. "Sustainable. I don't think it's actually possible to avoid everything that might could possibly trigger him, 'specially if you ain't talking to him about what those things could be or why." He lowers his hands, tucking them now into the pockets of his coat. "Ain't like he's some kinda bomb waitin' to go off, you accidentally snip the wrong wire. I'm like -- ninety-five percent sure he wants to be cool with you, too, and is just terrified he's gonna scare you off again if he talks about -- well. Anything."

Steve nods, slow and thoughtful. "I don't think he's a -- bomb." Though as soon as the words have left his mouth he bows his head. "So I should stop treating him like one. You know, I'm not actually that easy to scare off, just..." His mouth pulls ruefully to one side. "...easily caught flat-footed in this brave new world. I'd like to say I was smoother back in the day, but to be entirely honest I was just awkward a whole different way." He lifts his hand, not pulling back this time, and squeezes Jax's shoulder. "Thank you. Even if I really...ought to have been able to come to that conclusion on my own. Ought to have trusted our friendship wasn't that fragile." His sudden breath out makes a white puff of condensation in the cold air. "Just got -- twisted up about it in my head."

"New world's a whole awful lot to get used to." Jax hesitates before lifting his hand, resting it over Steve's and squeezing briefly. He slows, comes to a stop on the sidewalk, glancing toward the entrance to the subway and then up at Steve. "Well. Good luck. I hope it's a nice lunch and -- relatively paparazzi-free, whenever you do get 'round to asking 'em."

Steve's expression does something complicated and he opens his mouth to speak, though no words actually come out. He plucks at the flap of his coat as if to reach for something, but finally seems to decide against that, too. Tucks his right hand under the opposite arm instead, a nervous reflex he'd mostly conquered in the past year. "I --" Breaks off again. Nods. "Yeah, I hope so, too." Sincere again, though his smile comes slower. "It was -- really nice to talk to you. I'm only sorry it was to pick you brain. I ah, might drop by later," he adds, a touch conspiratorially, "with candy and cards." He wraps the other man in a quick hug, warm and as careful as ever. "At least you won't have to wait long for your nap."

Jax glances to Steve's hand -- then his coat -- then just returns the hug in a very quick squeeze. "S'what I'm here for." The smile he flashes Steve is small, his hand lifting in a wave as he turns to trot down the stairs. "Oh -- it's a long ride back to Queens, unfortunately. See you 'round, honey-honey."