ArchivedLogs:Cold Hands

Cold Hands
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jax	8 November 2014 Warning: significant amounts of cuddles.
Location <NYC> Candyland - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The stairs lead up into a landing hall, bright as well with a set of bay windows and a wide cushion-strewn ledge beneath them at its far end. To the right of the landing the first doorway opens into the bathroom, warmly coloured in yellows and reds and sandy tiles; its large bathtub-shower also holds a mosaic on one wall, strange fire-creatures and manticores echoed in the small fiery faeries sprinkled at sporadic intervals around the rest of the room. Past the bathroom on the right-hand side is a smaller door into a linen closet before the actual door into Spencer's bedroom. Spencer's sturdy furniture set has been designed with rambunctious children in mind, most of its structure climbable with a loft-bed connected by a short tunnel to an also-lofted reading nook with a sliding door to turn it into its own private cave; the desk and dresser sit beneath the bed and there is a shelving unit beneath the platform that serves also as steps up into it. A slide down off the bed falls down into large squishy beanbag and the whole of the structure has been designed and painted reminiscent of a spaceship, a theme echoed in the way the closet doors have been painted to look like the TARDIS. On the left-hand side the first door leads into the master bedroom, bright-lit not just from its huge windows and skylight but from a rather exorbitant overabundance of lamps. It's colourful in here, the hand-crafted wood furniture (king bed against the left-hand wall, pair of small nightstands to either side of it, a pair of dressers flanking the closet on the right, a large desk with a multitude of drawers and shelves along the back) cheerfully painted, the walls home to plentiful artwork, brightly coloured glass figurines scattered around the shelves and stained-glass suncatchers hanging in the windows. One set of windows leads out onto a balcony, stretching out to share with the guest bedroom adjacent; it's set up for /lounging/, a large hammock at one side, a pair of hanging net chairs flanking the table on the other. Next to the master bedroom is the smaller guest bedroom, sunny-yellow and furnished with queen bed, dresser, a small desk of its own; doors here lead out into the balcony as well. At the end of the hallway shortly before the window nook, a hatch in the ceiling drops down a rope-ladder that leads up into the tiny attic-space; not so much a proper /floor/ as it is a sloped-ceiling nook of space beneath the roof, it nevertheless has its own circular window and skylights and rather than left unfinished it's been furnished with beanbag and folded futon-mattress and a tiny low table with drawers tucked beneath it. It is /early/, at least for a Saturday. People might be up and about in the house, bustling to get ready for work and school, were it a weekday. But it is not, and it is chilly, and as such Micah is ignoring the peeping rays of early morning sunshine to keep his face turned half into a pillow and body burrowed away under layers of blanket. There is enough excess blanket around that his fuzzy Exploding TARDIS blanket being bunched up and hugged against his chest does little to detract from the burrowing. Jax is quiet as he slips back in from work -- he's dressed in a rather /rumpled/ Mendel Clinic guard uniform that he's peeling out of even as he enters. Drops his shirt and undershirt and socks in the laundry, hangs his pants in the closet; the shimmer of makeup splashed bright across him fades away as he slides his way into bed. To nestle up close against his husband, worming his way under the blankets and tucking himself up snug against Micah, leg wrapping around his husband's (to warm chill-cold foot against Micah's) and similarly cold hand seeking out the warmth of Belly to splay out against. Purrrrrr. Micah barely stirs at Jax's arrival and fussing with clothing and closets, just settling a little deeper into the blanketpile. The sudden /coldlimbs/ earn an undignified squeaky sound of protest. His eyes slit open slowly to regard the ice creature latched onto him. "S'it snowin' already?" he asks in a husky half-asleep voice, tugging the blankets up over the both of them a little further as if this will help matters. In answer at first, Micah just gets /more/ purring, a soft pleased thrumming in Jax's throat that is paired with a small smile at the squeaking. He presses his lips to Micah's shoulder, then the hollow of his throat, nestling in closer with a contented nuzzle. "S'too /dark/. I'll be a furnace again by noon." Micah's arms disentangle from his fuzzy blanket bundle to wrap around Jax instead, pulling him in tighter. "Hm. I was gonna suggest gettin' a cat again, but I'm afraid the resident arctic tundra cat-creature 'round here might be too much for a domestic cat t'handle." His chin tips up, baring his throat to the nuzzles and kisses, even if they /are/ chilly ones. "Noon's a long way away. Think we'll survive the hypothermia 'til then?" "We should get a cat again," Jax replies bright and immediate, "can't never have too /much/ purrin' in one place. Anyway then I'll have someone t'keep your belly even warmer for me for when I need t'come home an' thaw." His lips close against Micah's skin, sucking lightly at his throat and then releasing. "Maaaybe," he sounds unsure on the subject of Surviving, until, more confident: "with a careful application'a some Earl Grey pancakes an' scramble an' tea." “Can poke about the SPCA website later. Prob'ly need t'get a kitten 'less we can find an older one's got a history of livin' with dogs before.” Speaking of purring, there is definitely a rumble at Micah's throat, beneath Jax's lips, accompanied by a soft-low pleased hum. “Mmn. Kitchen's like, a million miles away. An' has no blankets.” His (thankfully warm for having been snuggled away) fingertips trace along the length of Jax's spine to its base. "Mmmn. Blankets can move." Not that /Jax/ is moving, instead shivering at the trace of fingers and kissing Micah softly again, this time along his jawline. "Can't move the kitchen t'us, though. But," now his lips are touching Micah's, slow and gentle, "... feelin' a powerful cravin' to get somethin' --" He presses back, a feline roll of spine up against Micah's touch. "-- warm into me." “Seems like a bad plan to cook wrapped in blankets, though. Might catch somethin' on fire.” Micah's hands trace back up, this time with fingers curled in to ply nails lightly to skin. “Do have a lotta fire extinguishers about, but prob'ly burnt blanket isn't the best of breakfast smells.” His chin tips back down for easier access to kisses, this time. Another shiver, another press of lips. This one comes with a slow roll of hips against Micah's. "Guess I'll jus' hafta store up some warm from you. /Then/ do a breakfast." Though he can't stifle a yawn, here. He tucks his head down against Micah's shoulder to cover his mouth. "... mebbe after a nap. Clinic shifts felt /long/ lately." Micah presses back into Jax as the other man moves against him. "Mmn." Jax's turn to hide his yawning leaves an opening to the opposite side of his neck that is too good to pass up. Micah nuzzles in, a brief flick of tongue-tip to soft skin followed by a much less brief plying of teeth. "Mmn," the second time comes in more of a warm exhalation than a sound. "S'a lotta plans. Which one y'need first? Pretty sure I can oblige." "Oh-h-h." Jax's breath rushes out soft and pleased. "Nap first. Then warm. /Then/ breakfast? Oh, gosh." His lips press to Micah's collarbone, happy purring resuming as he curls in snug and close, a very faint flutter of glow rippling through him. "... I jus' want all the happies." Micah's kisses and nibbles continue down the side of Jax's neck. His shoulders give a little shiver at Jax's kiss in return. He finally pulls back. "Hm. Oh. Prob'ly I should leave off of... Not very conducive t'nappin'." Though his hands have their own thoughts when Jax resumes purring, petting along his flanks, one scritching at his husband's stomach as the other sketches up his breastbone. Jax giggles, nuzzling in against Micah, glow deepening at the belly-scritches. "I don't know. I ain't cemented in this plan." His mouth presses a little bit longer to the older man's. "Warm could come first. Get all melty for nappin'." His arms slide around Micah's waist, this time pulling his husband half over top of him. "-- Oh, gosh, did I tell you..." Though here he just trails off, a little melty already as he kisses Micah again. Jax's glowing really serves as nothing but encouragement. Micah deepens the kiss when their lips meet again, leading easily into another lap at his husband's throat, a firmer bite replacing the earlier nibbles. It doesn't take much to convert /half/ over top to fully so, a soft rumbling in Micah's throat giving way belatedly to, "Tell me?" after another kiss. "Wait, I -- forgot what I was gonna --" Jax's words end in a shiver, a soft gasp; his neck bares further to the biting before instead he turns his head back /down/ so that maybe he can stay un-distracted long enough to speak. Maaaybe. His hands are skimming up along Micah's sides though and all that skin is in itself distracting. "-- /Right/ no right I was thinkin' about. Melty. Happy." He nuzzles in at Micah's throat, fingers now kneading at his husband's shoulders. "-- ran into a new teacher. Yesterday. Come up t'me askin' after if I was Shane's dad." The effect of the 'wait' is immediate, Micah pulling away from the bites and kisses, shifting his weight off of Jax, head quirked to the side in questioning and brows lifted slightly in concern... And perhaps faint confusion as Jax continues his petting. The change in conversation topic does /nothing/ to help the concerned-face. "Ohgosh. S'he okay? D'we need t'schedule a meetin'?" Jax giggles at this reaction, lifting his head to press another kiss to Micah's neck. "-- She said she found him refreshin' t'talk to an' a pleasantly enthusiastic student. Wanted t'give me a permission slip for teachin' him a class special." The glow in him is deepening at this, fierce. He tugs Micah back over top of him. "Thought I might explode in shock. /An'/ happy." This is followed up with just as fierce a kiss. “Huh,” serves as Micah's bemused reaction, though Jax's tugging him back earns a broad-pleased smile and a resumption of nuzzling. He rocks his weight back over easily, perhaps a little deliberately pressing Jax back into the mattress. “Oh...huh. What class's this?” His smile pulls lopsided. “That's good news an' all, but no explodin' for you. Just had this discussion 'bout the burned blankets not makin' good breakfast.” Though that isn't /stopping/ equally enthusiastic return kisses. "... throwin' rocks at things." Another giggle accompanies this. "Which honestly given Shane's size jus' puts me in a David an' Goliath kinda mindset. -- Was jus'. So nice. T'hear someone /appreciatin'/ him for once." He shivers beneath his husband, arms sliding downwards to curl against Micah's hips. "Maybe jus' a little explodin', hmm? You're puttin' me in an explodin' kinda mood." The intensity of his next kiss suggests maaaybe not so much talking about setting things on fire, at least. "Just...rocks at random things? Is it like...combat rock throwin'? Applied physics? Competitive stone skippin'?" Micah sounds incredibly amused by all of this, betraying his agreement with Jax's pleased assessment of a teacher /liking/ Shane (and immediately, no less!) even more than his nodding along. "Feel like we should bring her cookies. An' by 'we' I mean 'you' on account of I don't wanna poison a teacher that actually /gets/ Shane." How little that encouragement is needed, Micah's hips rocking into Jax's as arms curl around him. He returns the kiss, hungry and claiming. "Maybe a little. If y'promise not t'set the blankets on fire," he allows with a grin before finding Jax's neck for another nip. "Actual permission slip said, 'throwing rocks at stuff'," Jax informs Micah with just as much amusement. "She said she wants t'have us t'dinner with her an' her wife. Can bring cookies." His legs shift, spread to wrap around Micah's hips, his head tipping back to invite the nipping. "I'll try m'best, sir." Even if he's maaaybe sneaking a peek towards the corner to check on the current status of fire extinguisher. Just before another kiss once he's reassured himself. "I'm gonna trust with a teacher involved that they won't throw rocks at inappropriate things," Micah chuckles between kisses, licks, and nips delivered at Jax's jawline, down his neck, at the hollow of his throat, along a collarbone. One hand each finds a shoulder to hold down as his spine slips, hips pressing in again at Jax curling around him. "Always got two within easy reach," he reassures when Jax's eyes are drawn to the extinguisher. "Good." Jax's shoulders relax, yielding easily to the press of Micah's hands. "Then please." It's a breathy-soft whimper of a word as his legs tighten around Micah, his breathing quicker and the glow inside him brighter. "Please."