ArchivedLogs:Bellyrubs

Bellyrubs
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah
In Absentia	20 November 2014 For good luck!
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. Jax hasn't been home long, though he was here earlier in the evening -- a /late/ appointment, though, after dinner, whisking him off down to the studio to, presumably, jab needles into people. But he's back now, some short while /after/ midnight, tucked into a very unsunny sunroom, curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows in a windowseat in black leggings laced corset-like up their sides, furry yellow-and-white legwarmers, knit Funshine Bear wristwarmers layered over mismatched multicolored over-the-elbow armwarmers layered over a long-sleeved purple tee layered under a short-sleeved sunny yellow one, yellow scarf still wound around his neck. He's got his computer nearby, tablet in his lap. Sketching, slow and kind of sleepy, a man on his knees with lips also somewhat corset-laced, mouth sewn shut. Arms sewn together, behind his back, lacing trailing off -- it looks like there is someone else perhaps holding the end of it, though the other figure hasn't yet been drawn. One of Jax's legs is curled beneath him; the other, hanging down, is currently using Obie as a footwarmer, bare toes with sparkly toenails scrunching slowly into sleepy-puppy fur. Micah has been around considerably longer today, home early enough to make dinner then lingering for chores and getting Spence off to bed. He had been working upstairs on never-ending work-related paperwork. E-mails. Spreadsheets. But now is time for tea. He pads out of the kitchen with a pair of mugs in hand, lavender rooibos smelling earthy and soothing. It is likely Pajama O'clock hit long ago, finding Micah in a navy sweatshirt and pajama pants on which tiny TARDISes tumble through space. His fuzzy soot sprite slippers are on over a pair of less impressively fuzzy blue socks. Quite predictably, his hair looks as if he had already been in bed before coming downstairs. "Hey, sugar. Brought y'some warm." See? Steaming tea mug for Jax. Jax's gaze is slow to reroute, dragging up from his screen to fix on mug. Then Micah. His smile is quicker, easier, lingering on his husband rather than the steaming tea. "Brought me some hot, looks like." He sets the tablet aside, on the small table next to his laptop, resting his stylus atop it so that he can take the tea and cradle it gently. He shifts in his nest to make room for Micah. "I got some warm. Jus' a little." Or a lot, actually, given the general space-heater ambience he seems to radiate without actually /keeping/ any for actually heating /himself/. Maybe why he's cradling the tea so happily. "Y'put a dent in work?" Micah's face is bright-smiling if slightly tired-eyed when Jax looks up. He sets his mug within reach on the table before climbing in next to Jax, curling in close around him. Maaaaybe the /warm/ is adding to the motivation to snuggle just a little. "Always do. Just that more of it crops up like Whack-A-Mole. But with Tribbles, 'stead of moles." Nuzzling gently against Jax's cheek and neck, he adds a kiss to the corner of his husband's lips. "How 'bout you?" A soft pleased breath shivers out of Jax, head tipping to allow the nuzzling. He lowers the mug to his lap so that he can stabilize it with only one hand, snaking his other arm around his husband. "Trib -- bles?" This sounds a little puzzled. "Oh. I filled this pretty boy with so many needles." He sounds /so/ pleased at this. "Tooked pictures for his Lady. With his Lady. Was a nice. S'pose that's -- not. What's usually meant. With puttin' a dent. But." Micah just nuzzles in a little closer. “Furry little creatures what breed faster'n rabbits,” he explains. “Sounds like y'had fun. An' so did they.” Pulling back /just/ enough, he brings his mug to his lips for a sip. "I had --" Jax has to stop and think about this, nails drumming against the side of his cup. "It was good. I like -- I mean, I love what I do. But I love it most when s'bringin' people --" His eye lowers, a small upward hitch lifting his shoulder. "They was happy. Celebratey. Startin' a family an' --" He nestles closer to his husband, lifts his cup, too, to sip it, slow. "... you spoke t'Dusk any more? Know how he's doin'?" “Sounds lovely,” Micah summarizes, tea-warmed lips pressing against Jax's cheek this time. “D'pends whatcha mean by spoke. I mean...was Game Night, an' he seemed pretty happy 'bout that. If y'mean like...serious talks? Not s'much. Sure he's still...stressed with ev'rythin' happenin' but tryin' just t'enjoy bein' out an' with folks, right?” "Yeah. Most likely -- jus' tryin' to enjoy." Jax nuzzles again, lightly against the kiss before turning to brush a kiss to Micah's lips this time. He tucks his head afterwards against his husband's shoulder, pulling his other leg up under himself to kneel, nestled close at the other man's side. He's quiet again through another sip of tea before he sits up straighter. "I thought about it some more," he finally tells Micah, quiet. "I don't know what Dusk an' Isra is feelin'. But I want them t'feel confident that whatever choices they make it's -- cuz s'what's best for them an' their family an' their little'n. An' not cuz of no options. So whatever decision they come to, I'm -- open to us bein' a part of that. Whatever that ends up meanin'." “Mmn.” Micah returns the kiss eagerly, eyelids fluttering closed. His free arm wraps around Jax, fingers curling into his hair to pet at it gently. He waits a few beats at that change in posture, seeming portent of something. His lips slowly pull into a wider smile...though some effort is made to contain it just now. “Ohwow. Wow, that's...you're sure? I don't want this just t'be for me or for Dusk an' Isra. You'd want... I know I ain't rightly figured what /they/ want, but if they do, you'd want to?” That's the most precisely phrased question ever. "Well. They can take what time they want t'figure on what they want. Need. Jus'. This is --" Jax draws in a breath, nodding. "M'sure." His voice is quiet, but not hesitant. "Had t'do a lotta thinkin'. Kinda jus' holed up in m'studio a couple nights, y'know? I --" His eye drops to his tea, teeth briefly wiggling at a lip ring. "Sometimes worry? Made some decisions here an' there that -- I don't know. Weren't the best. For other people. Got kinda over my head with --" His shoulder lifts again. "But no. I'm sure. This ain't like that. This is -- /us/. Our family. Together. An' I'm sure." Micah nods slow acknowledgement of this explanation, concern easing from his features at the reassurances. He sets the tea away on the table to free up /both/ arms for a big, tight, squeezy hug. He holds Jax tight against him, another series of kisses added up the side of the other man's neck before pressing to his lips. “Ohgosh. That's... Wonderful. I love you.” Another kiss. “Just...happy that y'were able t'find your own way to it. I...guess we should /tell/ them. Or at least Dusk. I dunno what's the proper way t'do this kinda thing.” There is a subtle excited shake to his hands. Jax curls his hand tighter around his tea, holding it steady as he leans into the hug. His other arm wraps tight around Micah, squeezing back fiercely. A brief glow shivers around him at the kisses, a small smile curling across his lips. "Ain't really sure the protocol on this kinda thing either. S'an odd situation all 'round. Guess jus' -- start with checkin' in an'. See how he's feelin'. They're feelin'. Where they're at with all this. Go from there." Micah's broad-pleased smile only grows more so at that glowing. His arms stay curled tight around his husband, hands petting at the other man's back, and cheek just nuzzling against him as if trying to soak up every molecule of contact and closeness. “Think we should just talk t'Dusk first? Or both of 'em? 'Cause it /is/ a both of 'em kinda question. But I don't know Isra s'well an' certainly can't read her as well. Wouldn't want...accident'ly t'be causin' offense. On account of it's a delicate... I mean, what if she's totally /fine/ an' this is like tellin' a body y'think they're an unfit parent? Ain't /true/. I just. When Dusk didn't /know/ what she thought. An' as much as he sounded like he didn't want...” Micah's face presses in against Jax's chest, mooshing against him as if to just /stop/ his mouth from making sounds. “'pologies, I. Now'm all nervous.” Jax purrs, soft and quiet, nuzzling up close and tucking his chin up against Micah's hair. Floppy-fuzzy ears and bushy-foxy tail sprout -- yellow and white to match his current legwarmers -- as he snuggles in close. "Prob'ly Dusk first. I agree it could be -- I mean, s'delicate. Cuz we /ain't/ sayin' -- it could come off real bad. Like we're -- I don't know, /tryin'/ to steal their -- or say they /shouldn't/ be parents or. But ain't like that at all. Dusk jus' been so freaked. Best maybe to see how he's doin'. Feelin'. An' go from there." He tips his head down, pressing a kiss to Micah's hair. "It's nervous-makin'. We'll talk to him." “Okay. Maybe he's talked with 'er more meanwhile an' they got more...direction. On what one another's thinkin' an' all. Just didn't wanna seem like we was doin' nothin' behind Isra's back, neither. We can feel it out s'more.” It isn't until after the little kiss that Micah fully uncovers his face, looking up to regard Jax. And his sudden /extra/ fuzziness. “Oh/gosh/.” One of his hands slides around to rub at Jax's belly. “How'd I get so lucky t'have you?” The purring grows louder, a deep /thrum/ that comes in time with a warmer sunnier glow. "Bellyrubs," Jax informs Micah happily. "S'how you catch Jaxes." His eyes close, purring resuming in between his words. "Feel pretty lucky myself. Ain't always been. But this -- this is. This is a happy." “Mmn...better keep 'em comin', then.” Micah's other hand joins the first for tummy scritches, as well. “An' I'll definitely,” he pauses, stretching upward just enough to deliver a quick-soft kiss to his husband's lips, “second that.”