ArchivedLogs:Almost Questions

Almost Questions
And Almost Answers
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Hive
In Absentia	18 September 2013 Serious talks, then...kissiness forewarning.
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. 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. It's only Wednesday, but it has been a hectic week already for Jax. Between classes he is teaching and classes he is /taking/, bodyguard shifts and appointments at the studio, he's been scarce around the house. Zipping in here and there, long enough to get Spencer from school and make sure dinner is prepared but past that he has been gone all the nights and most of the days. Tonight, though, finds him /actually/ home, school done, a late appointment at the studio just concluded and no night shift on the schedule. It's late when he comes back home, the weather outside dropping sharply cooler after nightfall; it makes his the black tank top (embroidered on its chest with a pair of cherries) he's paired with his baggy purple-and-silver UFO pants kind of inadequate, and he represses a shiver as he locks the door behind him. Past this, though, he's /bouncy/ as he toes off his shoes, a wired sort of energy that seems fueled by too much caffeine and sunlight. He hangs his keys on a magnetic strip by the front door, unhooking his black messenger bag from his shoulder as he heads inside. Micah is in the living room tidying up. Admittedly, it's his own mess that needs putting away: a light sprinkling of tools to return to their toolbox, piles of packaging material separated into trash and recyclables, the vacuum cleaner still sitting out from sucking up stray work-dust. Micah's hair and clothes (faded jeans and old standby black Reading Rainbowdash T-shirt) are lightly dusted, as well. To show for it all is a curtain track with a heavy but plain white curtain hanging from it, though it is still thrown open with the fabric all gathered to one side and held back with a sash. The sound of person-entrance catches Micah's attention, looking up from latching his toolbox closed with a bright smile. “Hi, Jax! I got the thing put in for the loft-room. Figured Tag'd probably wanna decorate the curtain himself, so it's just blah-white for now.” "Oh!" Jackson's first exclamation is bright and surprised, but it fades to a softer, "-- oh," with a guilty glance thrown to Spencer's room. A quick smile spreads across his face as he looks up and over the curtain, bouncing further into the room to drop his bag onto one end of the couch. "Oh gosh, you're all. Handy. I bet he'll make it crazy-bright." Some touches of illusion fade once Jax is in the house, scars reappearing along his arms, apparently-smooth head dusted over with a prickly short coating of dark fuzz. Others just /shift/, purple eyeshadow and faint glimmer of lip gloss both shifting to a bright metallic silver, eyepatch losing its sprinkling of silver stars to sprout a glittery purple dragonfly instead. Heedless of Micah's dust-covering, he drops down beside the other man to curl his arms around Micah and deposit a light kiss on Micah's cheek, his lip rings warmed by the fiercer-than-usual heat radiating off of him. "Thank you. That's -- it makes kinda a cute room, don't it?" Micah giggles at Jax's assessment. "Puttin' things together's kinda what I do. Rooms are /way/ easier t'fit than people. Didn't take very long at all. An' yeah, I'm sure it won't ever look exactly the same from day t'day, either. It'll be fun. Kinda...living art over the living room." Micah answers Jax's thanks with a half-playful little kiss to the tip of illusionist's nose. "You're kinda extra-hot t'night. Been usin' a lot of energy? Need cookies? There's cookies. Well...you know there's cookies, look who I'm talkin' to." His grin goes lopsided at that assertion. "But y'could /eat/ the cookies." Jax's nose crinkles up at the kiss, arm curling tighter around Micah. "Okay, s'kinda what you do but you're /still/ handy. An' awesome. You know, s'plenty'a people who're /terrible/ at what they do, bein' great at it is still pretty neat." His forehead bonks up lightly against Micah's, a warm smile curving his silver lips. "You're extra hot every night, honey-honey." There are other things shifting around the room; the bright-painted dragonflies on the wall changing colours and starting to flit from one wall to the next. Out the window the streetlamp-lit view of the street and the park beyond is changing, strange silhouetted monsters starting to prowl among the cars and perch on the streetlamps. Jax shakes his head with a small shrug. "-- /Not/ usin' a lotta energy, s'the problem. Just. Holding onto a lot. Cool off some once I burn it off." He glances towards Spencer's room again, teeth clicking for a moment against his lip. "Nooot that I ever turn down cookies. -- Your day go alright?" "I'd be in a right bad spot if I were terrible at what I do. Company'd go splat in a heartbeat." Micah's arms wrap themselves loosely around Jax's shoulders, his cheeks colouring a pale pink at the hotness comment. "Just gotta put on more light shows, I guess." He watches Jax's glance dart a second time. "Everythin' okay?" He releases a hand to pet at the other man's head and the dusting of new hair there. "I can /so/ get you cookies, but I'd have t'get up first. S'been a good day. Work'n dinner'n some homework time with Spence an' some returnin' stolen ferret an' cleanin' an' curtain installation an'...cleanin' again, lookit that." "Gettin' up sounds like a /lot/'a effort." Jackson leans back instead, against the base of the couch, tugging Micah along with him. "And it sounds like y'been on your feet a while already." His head nuzzles up into the touch against his fuzzy prickle of hair. "Everything's good," he assures Micah with a quick smile. "Just --" His head shakes. A creeping network of vines is slowly taking over the living room ceiling and walls, unfurling blossoms apparently constructed of softly glowing stained-glass. The restless energy in him is slowly fading as the illusion spreads, posture sagging back against the couch. "I been down today, um. Had more paperwork to --" His teeth scrape against his lip again. "I got another court date. Not till November but. For -- um, for the kids. The adoptions -- s'been like -- three years but they might actually be mine soon. For real." Micah allows himself to be tugged readily, tumbling against Jax's side to continue with more thorough head-scritches. “Mmn. We'll put the cookies on a slightly later IOU, then.” His smile broadens at the announcement. “Jax, that's /wonderful/ news! I mean. I'd say they're really /yours/ already, but. This'll just make it all legal-official.” The arm not actively involved in pettings squeezes tight around Jax's shoulders with excitement. “Is it just the last court date now, or they got other hoops y'need t'jump through in the meantime?” "Oh, I got a couple more meetings with the OCFS folks but s'long as I don't -- go on no crime sprees or take up beatin' 'em in the meantime s'mostly formality." Jackson nestles up against Micah's side with a soft happy sigh at the head scritching. "It's kinda amazing, it's been so long and -- I think they get scared sometimes that I'll just. Give 'em /back/ maybe now they'll feel more comfortable knowin' this is their home for always." His hand falls to rest against Micah's thigh, fingers rubbing there absently. "Micah --" A small blush spreads through his cheeks. His head tips slightly to look at Micah, eye lingering on the other man's face. "There's still -- time for. Um." Tiny faeries with colourful wings and bright hair start to peek out of the glass flowers, flitting out between the vines. The fierce heat burning beneath Jax's skin starts to ebb, slowly. "-- Um, what I mean is. You've become so much a part of -- I mean I love you kind of a --" The blush deepens, and beside Micah he fidgets a moment, awkwardly. "I mean I /think/ you love the -- um. Do you? Love the – boys?" "Good, good." Micah presses his lips to Jax's head in a series of prickly little kisses between scritchings. "They're gonna be so happy--that /has/ been a long time comin'." His eyebrows scrunch at the idea of /returning/ the boys. "Give 'em /back/? I mean, even if that were /remotely/ gonna happen, where would /back/ even be? The labs? They /can't/ think that you'd really do that. But...it is nice t'have things all official-like, regardless." His fingers move to trace along the side of Jax's face as he starts blushing, Micah's cheeks answering with a paler echo of colour. "Of course I love them. I'd do anythin' for those boys..." Sudden concern tightens his features, his lips pressing thin. "Is...is there a problem? I know they can get real fussy 'bout your personal life in custodial matters. They ain't raisin' a fuss on my account, are they?" "I wouldn't do nothin' like that. But with what their lives've been like -- it's hard for them to feel settled sometimes. Makin' it official will be --" Jackson's eye widens at Micah's concern, head shaking abruptly. "Oh! Ohgoshno. Nonono it ain't -- they ain't raisin' a /fuss/ they just. Were askin' if you -- if we were -- how serious we was, if you was gonna --" Jax's blush deepens; he sits up a little straighter, drawing in a deep breath. His makeup is fading, as the life on the walls grows, silver vanishing, the scars on his face reappearing along with sleepless shadows beneath his eyes. He swallows, his hand moving to rest over Micah's against his face. "It's just. You've kinda become -- so much a part'a our lives an'. An' I know /I/ want -- you. To be part'a it for. Always. An' I didn't know if you -- wanted. Wanted to also --" His fingers tighten around Micah's hand, the look he flicks up to Micah almost shy. "I mean there's more red tape an' you'd hafta come with me to the rest'a the meetings an' -- but. There's space on the paperwork for two parents. An' I know that's -- like. Huge an' crazy an' so much to -- I don't need no answer from you /now/ I just. You could -- think about it." “Oh, oh, good,” Micah sighs, the heightening worry in his features draining away. “It's just. Y'hear the horror stories about institutional discrimination against same-sex couples. An' they aren't /s'posed/ to. But...things happen, still. An' I didn't want no kinda standin' in the way of this 'cause it's your /family/ an' that's the most important--” His babbling cuts off, his eyes widening as he grasps the full intention behind Jax's less than direct not-quite questioning. “Is this...have the boys said anythin' about that? 'Cause it...I mean, it doesn't feel like it, but it hasn't been so long that I've even been here. I wouldn't want to...that's a /big/ way t'push into someone else's life, y'know? Especially when they're as cautious about people as--well, as the twins are. Not so much Spence, I'm pretty sure /he'd/ try t'be adopted by the entire buildin'.” Micah chuckles a bit at the last assertion, settling himself down a little. “That's just...a lot. T'talk about. What the kids want, too. An' whether it's worth considerin', even, for now, if it'd hinder the process in any way. I wouldn't want t'do that, now you're finally in the home stretch of it. An' I never... I never even really /asked/ about their last 'other-dad' situation? 'Cause I've been afraid of bringin' up as much painful as that almost certainly is. With you or them. But...” A shy sort of smile creeps its way back onto his features as he squeezes Jax's shoulders again. “I'm definitely not sayin' no. Just a lot...t'discuss.” "I ain't talked to them about it, yet," Jackson admits quietly, looking down at his other hand, resting on Micah's leg. "I mean, I'm /going/ to, for sure, this is -- huge and they'd hafta be -- hafta /want/ it, too. I just -- I didn't want to even bring it /up/ with them without knowin' how you felt, you know? Cuz I'm pretty sure that you'd -- understand if they wasn't ready for it but I wouldn't want to. To -- I /know/ they love you a lot. I wouldn't want to even put that thought in their heads if it wasn't gonna be a thing you wanted, you know?" He draws in another breath, his fingers pressing down against Micah's leg. "There'd be /so much/ to talk about, I know. I jus'. Wanted to feel out -- your feelings on it an' --" The blush is deepening in his cheeks. "An' ohgosh this is. Kinda like askin' -- I mean this is like the serious sort of commitment an' even me /asking/ is like. You know I ain't even sure whether or not I believe in marriage but I /love/ you an' I definitely want /you/ in my life for -- oh wow I screwed all this up didn't I?" Jax's eye widens, his hand shifting to scrub his knuckles against his cheek. "Like I probably shoulda asked you first if -- you wanted to be with /me/ for --" The glass flowers on the vines around the room are glowing brighter, fierce and hot abruptly in sudden flares of light spotted against the walls. "This is all -- wrong there shoulda been like. Dinner an' maybe a ring an' ohgosh I'm really bad at this kinda thing I'm sorry. I just -- love you an' I want that to be for always an' /oh/ wow I'm not making the list of things-to-talk-about no shorter am I?" "Yeah, I get that. Not wantin' t'do anythin' that might be...that kinda disappointin' to 'em when they've had plenty enough of it in their lives. I just...wow. That part of things, is pretty much /mostly/ their decision as far as I see it." Micah's hand cups over Jax's where it rests on his leg, his fingers lacing through the other man's. "Ain't got /no/ doubts on me bein' with you, hon. That's...that's a whole lotta less complicated. 'Cause that part is more just you...an' me. An'...I don't even know. I haven't really even pictured a future here without you in it. That's like the most absolute an' certain thing, even if everythin' else is so crazy, there's no knowin' how it's gonna turn up." He stops Jax's increasingly self-conscious and nervous spill of words with a fingertip pressed to his lips. It stays as a place-holder just long enough for Micah to twist his torso to face the other man, to lean in for a kiss with a feeling of need and almost urgency behind it. It is some time before he is able to pull back enough to speak again, a smile tugging at his lips. "Is that you sayin' y'mean t'propose, then?" The glow in the flowers continues to grow, through the kiss, light shining bright enough to be painful to look at. Jax slides his hand up to Micah's waist, then curls his arm around the other man, returning the kiss with every bit as much need. "Oh --" There are tears glistening bright in his eye, but his smile is warm; the glow from the flowers dims as one blossoms instead beneath his skin, softer. "I think I am. I think I do. I just, wow, I shoulda planned this better this is like. The least romantic proposal ever oh gosh I just botched that didn't I?" Not that his smile is any less warm, though as he slumps back kind of /exhausted/ against the couch the temperature in his skin has dropped to a /normal/ body heat that feels almost cool in comparison to his previous feverishness. "Maybe," he says more brightly, "I can do it later an' it'll be somewhere /nice/ an' you can pretend like you're surprised and --" He bites down on his lip, blushing deep. "... Was that you sayin' you'd say yes?" The flower-light can grow as bright as it pleases, Micah is really paying it no mind to be painful or otherwise. He nuzzles against Jax, pressed close, his focus entirely on him. "S'all kindsa romantic an' spontaneous an' I'm /really/ never gonna complain too much about gettin' you all to myself down on the floor." One brow slides up with that, playful though the description is actually /accurate/. Not that he isn't blushing deeper from it. "We can call this the...proposal t'/propose/ if that makes you happier. 'Cause the other thing. That should be whatever you're wantin' it t'be." The tip of his tongue slides along his lips to moisten them, just a quick dart of pink on pink. "Think it was sayin'...I already kinda feel like I /did/. Much as y'can /before/ a question's been asked. But. S'all hypothetical. 'Cause y'haven't gotten t'ask yet." His head nods slightly to indicate to Jax that he is welcome to play along with this, to allow whatever future staging it is that he wanted. "Oh -- oh." Jax's /smile/ is brightening, now, though this at least carries no harsh light with it, just the same soft glow. His arm curls tighter around Micah, and he leans in for another kiss and then another, fierce and deep. "I love you. I love you." His forehead rests against Micah's, his fingers playing against the other man's back. Around the room the vines and flowers and faeries all vanish, first into a muddled swirl of formless colours that then disappear altogether. Jax's shoulders sink downwards, eyes closing as he steals another kiss. "... an' you can have me all t'yourself /wherever/ y'want me, honey-honey." Micah shifts, bringing the rest of his body around to kneel in front of Jax, arms wrapped around the other man and hands slipped under his tank top to explore the now-cooler skin there as the series of kisses deepen. “See, I'm not too hung up on the where part,” he teases breathlessly between kisses. “Got some more thoughts on the whats an' hows, though.” His fingers trace up from the waistband of Jax's pants, in a slow, straight path to the hollow at the base of his throat. “I love you. Rings'n fanciness'n all that or no. Just...you.” "Oh..." Jackson's voice is softer, now, a quiet breathy gasp. His head tips back, collared throat baring to the tracing path of Micah's fingers. "However you want me, sir," he agrees in a throatier murmur, mouth pressing to Micah's once more. "Whatever you want." His hands rest at Micah's sides, skimming slowly up beneath Micah's shirt, too. "... an' good." There's a deeper blush in his cheeks. "I ain't much good with the rings an' the fanciness but I love you so much I don't always got words for it." “Mmn.” Micah slips a finger under the collar to tug it gently closer, convenient access for a line of nips and kisses to be placed along Jax's neck, ending in a longer kiss as he reaches his mouth. His other hand moves back to the waistband to handle buttons and perhaps this excess clothing situation that seems to have developed. “That ain't botherin' me none. Words are pretty seriously overrated sometimes.” "Mmm." Jackson echoes this noise, soft and happy. His hands slide up further, head tilting back from the kiss so that he can aid with this too-much-clothing situation by sliding Micah's shirt off. It's followed by another kiss, deeper and hungrier; he sinks back to lie against the floor, here, tugging Micah over top of him. "-- Words are /definitely/ overrated." It's not until some time later -- a /good/ while later, after more intimate activities have had a chance to wind /down/ -- that a painful-sharp crack of mindvoice stabs its way into Jax and Micah's minds in, perhaps, an effort to /disrupt/ contented post-coital bliss. << Jegus, it's gorram loud down there. You fuckers have enough happy to fill the whole fucking East Village. >> But a moment later: << ... It's cheating if I get to be the first to congratulate you because of hearing it like this, isn't it? Oh well whatthefuckever. Congratulations. >>