ArchivedLogs:Death and Kisses

Death and Kisses
Dramatis Personae Shane, Peter, Daiki	2013-12-24 '
Location <NYC> The Sharktank - Village Lofts - East Village
Everything in this bedroom comes in pairs. Two beds (pushed together to the center of the room to form one larger one), two desks, two bookshelves, two dressers, two closets. The walls hold a scattering of artwork in Jax's typically whimsical-surreal style. The right side of the room is impeccably tidy; desk neatly arranged: often a laptop or a nook, but otherwise cleared off, everything tucked in its drawers save for a small arrangement of textbooks and music books and little colourful glass figurines or pale bone sculptures on its upper shelves. Closet neatly in order, clothing (favouring pinstripes, vests, slacks) pressed and hung, shoes on a shoe tree inside the door. Books on the shelf neatly categorized. The left side of the room is a riotous spill of colour, bright eclectic wardrobe (lots of skirts and dresses and clothing with many bright patterns) haphazardly thrown together; desk cluttered with books and notes and an assortment of bones, its shelves also holding little glass or bone sculptures, though this alongside a wealth of mechanical parts or small robots in various states of completion. The floor here tends towards clutter; more robot-parts, clothing, treacherous Legos lying in wait for unsuspecting feet. Sometime later, tonight, tomorrow, there will be a deluge of /people/ here, no doubt. Invitations have gone out but it is not yet partytime. The house smells freshly of pine from the (as-yet-undecorated) Christmas tree out in the living room, though in the bedroom at the moment it largely smells of green jasmine tea. Daiki is pouring two cups; though it's after lunchtime he's still dressed in white pajama pants and no shirt, a fair amount of rough-red abrasion scuffed and scraped across his chest. Shane is sitting on the bed, with a minty-fresh scent and lingering wetness to skin and hair that implies recent showering; he hasn't even /bothered/ with clothes yet, although his chosen outfit for the day is set down neatly on the bed beside him. He's watching his computer screen instead, humming along to the Corpse Bride's 'According to Plan' as the movie plays. There is a faint, delicate knocking at the door, followed by a steady rattle; behind it is one Peter. At last, the weather seems appropriate for his hoodie -- though he's actually wearing a brand new one -- navy blue, with the hood up, making it tricky to see his dark face unless you really stop and try. Beneath that, he's got on black dress slacks -- and a black nylon backpack with all sorts of numerous goodies stuffed inside of it. Among them is a plastic bag of freshly made teriyaki and peppercorn jerky; *somebody* got access to a dehydrator. "Hi," Peter mumbles, a little shyly -- a moment after the door is opened. And then he's shuffling his way in, head down, fingers squeezing tight at the straps of his backpack, cheeks slightly dark. "Peter." Daiki's voice is soft, a flush darkening his cheeks as well. He glances towards the bed where his t-shirt has been discarded, but then just looks back down to his tea. His eyes skip between Peter and Shane with a hint of -- something. Apprehension, perhaps; it makes itself known less in his calm expression and more in the stronger creeping tug of his mutation, a heavier pull of affection and desire than before. "Would you like some tea?" Shane's nostrils are flaring, head tilting even before that knocking comes on his bedroom door. His eyes skip up from the screen to Peter, gills fluttering once quickly. He pats at his damp skin with his towel, and reaches out to his pile of clothes, grabbing boxer-briefs to pull them on. "Party's not till later." Shirt next, a thin sleeveless undershirt and then a soft grey button-down. "Hey, Daiki," Peter offers, a little weakly, before: "I'm... um, sure. Yeah, okay." He drags his eyes off the floor and toward Shane, as he gathers up his clothes and begins dressing; what began as a slight darkening in those cheeks is rapidly picking up velocity, turning into a full-on fluster. "--thanks. Hey, Shane, I--" The backpack is slung off with nothing more than a roll of his shoulders; he throws it beside the bed. Peter's body slightly *tilts* toward Daiki, as if drawn by magnetism; nevertheless, his eyes remain on Shane -- even if he seems unable to look him directly in the eyes. "--yeah, I know, I just wanted to..." His words trail off; his eyes hop back up to Shane's: "--hang out." Daiki pours a cup, in quiet. He stands, offering the tea out, steaming still, to Peter between cupped hands. "Now?" Shane's ridged brows hitch upward. "Why now? Been kind of busy around here, I don't -- have a lot of. Hanging out time. S'Game Night, though. Tonight. That's a good time for hanging out." That lean toward Daiki gets a little more pronounced when he comes closer to Peter; Peter accepts the cup, eyes flitting between the teens -- before settling back on Shane. He breathes out a huff of breath across the surface of the tea, letting it cool -- before his face twists into just a smidge of a frown, eyes cast down to the drink. "I've been kind of... scarce, I guess. And I've... missed you. I..." He shuts himself up by taking a gulp of tea. And then, Peter's eyebrows scrunch together, just *staring* at the cup. "--what is this? Wait, this is tea?" Daiki dips his head in a small bow after Peter takes the tea, slipping back to take a second cup; he moves away with it, settling down on the mattress beside Shane to offer him the tea. Shane doesn't try to resist the pull; he leans up into Daiki's side, nuzzling at the other boy's neck with a small murmur of thanks though the warmth in his tone has nothing, probably, to do with the tea. He does take the cup, though. And /snorts/, quick and amused. "Dude he asked if you wanted tea. Like. Those were the words, would you like some tea. What did you think it was?" His grin is bright. "Fuck have you been doing anyway." "I just..." Peter's nose scrunches up. He's /still/ staring at the tea; as if there was something wrong with it. "...never had... like, I thought it was -- /ice/ tea or something. This is tea? This is okay," he decides, suddenly. "I mean, it's kind of weird? But..." He drinks again. /Greedily/, this time. Probably enough to burn the tip of his tongue. Peter grimaces, shaking his head, posture shifting as he begins to slip toward the bed, balancing the cup on his fingertips. "--everywhere, I guess. No where. At work. School. Parents have been picking me up every weekend. They... with the whole -- virus thing, they kind of flipped. Okay, also a lot of other things. But mostly the virus thing." He hooks his foot down in his backpack, slinging it up to his /other/ hand, deftly reaching inside. "It is tea, yes. A very good Chinese pearl jasmine. It is too cold for iced." Daiki slips his arm back around Shane in return, closing his eyes and exhaling quiet and happy at the nuzzling. The pull of his mutation strengthens even as its /quality/ changes, calmer now, less laced with desire and now just with soft warm affection. "Virus thing was pretty shitty," Shane agrees with a lazy shrug. "People say it's over now but it's really not, you know? It's /everywhere/ now. Like. Around the world. And there's a cure but it's -- creeps up on you. Who the fuck knows. You might go to bed thinking you have a cold and wake up zombie." Sneak. Sneak. Sneak. Peter is closer, now -- next to Shane and Daiki -- even as he rummages with one hand and drinks with the other, finishing the cup quickly and setting it aside. The plastic baggy full of teriyaki beef jerky emerges; the backpack drops down to the floor. "...yeah," Peter agrees, a little reluctantly, with Shane's assessment -- only adding: "I keep telling them it really wouldn't matter /anyway/ but..." He sets the cup down, fidding with the plastic baggy. Pulled in like iron to a lodestone, his shoulder bops against Daiki's, then against Shane's, even as he fishes out a strip of beef. "...they kind of know, about -- they saw the suit." A little more quietly. The contact strengthens the sharp tug of mutation, as it always does. Daiki closes his eyes, breathing slow and deep; the strong pull at least /stays/ innocent, quiet and warm with Daiki's calm. Shane reaches up, pulling Peter /down/, across Daiki's lap to rest Peter's head in Shane's. He also steals the beef. CHOMP. "... Really. Uh. Did they ground you forever cuz /I'd/ ground you forever." "Nnhgh." And suddenly, Peter is laid out across Daiki's lap, on his back, his head in Shane's lap -- peering up at him, blinking. Squirming, just a little bit, but not in a bad way; if anything, his squirming seems to be an attempt to scoot a little bit *closer* to the two of them. As the beef vanishes, Peter shifts his posture, plopping the back on his belly and fumbling with his fingers to pull out another strip -- and dangle it out in front of Shane. His other hand slowly curls, /tentatively/, around Daiki's middle. "--um, yes. Well, no. I think -- I'm allowed to come to the party," Peter says, finally. "Actually, I think this is the first time I've been allowed out unsupervised. Also, they took the suit." His face scrunches at this, as if he finds /that/ particular decision completely incomprehensible. The second strip vanishes in just as short order as the first. Shane's fingers curl slowly through Peter's hair. "Good." That's all. "They don't want you to die," Daiki explicates mildly, at Peter's uncomprehending look. "What did you think they would do? They worry." His touch is -- very hesitant. Very, very tentative, fingertips slowly lowering to trace lightly against the arm that Peter curls around him. Peter bristles beneath Shane's curling fingers, head lifting up into his hand and palm; his eyes close. He makes a sound -- somewhere between a purr and a breathy churr -- mostly, it's just a noise he's making to indicate that he enjoys the curling fingers -- both Shane's and Daiki's. He huffs, eyes slipping nearly closed. "Yeah, just -- I don't go out /anymore/," Peter says, maybe just a /little/ huffily, though he's quick to add: "Well okay I went out during the zombie thing but, I mean... that doesn't count. Does it? I guess it does. Yeah, okay." He exhales, hard and heavy, before: "How is Karrie doing...?" He squirms a little bit more closely, fingers curling against Daiki's hip, fishing out /another/ strip of beef -- before just nudging the bag toward Shane. Like a /trough/. "Kinda does count." Shane shrugs. "Not that that stopped us. But. /My/ dads are a little more sanguine about the whole danger thing." "Not exactly sanguine," Daiki objects. "No, okay, yeah, they hate it. But sometimes there's crisis... es. I guess they just -- get that. Your folks don't live constantly /expecting/ that everything's trying to kill them." Shane's claws curl inward, slowly tracing in light scritches against Peter's head. His other hand fishes out more beef. Chomp chomp chomp. "It's a pleasant luxury. But /everything/ is not trying to kill Peter, at least. So they can afford to have it." Daiki's hand slips down further, fingers splaying lightly against Peter's chest and his eyes fixed on Peter's face. "Karrie is tired." Peter's eyes close completely at the mention of /everything/ not trying to kill him; a soft, content breath escapes him as Shane's claws curl delicately against his chitinous scalp. Scritch, scritch; Peter's head angles up into the claws, his own hand curling to trace along Daiki's hip, up across his flank, toward his back. His other hand reaches up -- quick and sudden -- to dart behind Shane's head and /pull/, just a shade away from rough, dragging him down and darting his face up to deliver a quick, peckish kiss to his mouth. Flushing, as he does it. "--mm'sorry. About... Karrie, being... yeah," Peter remarks, curling his fingers deep on the back of Shane's head. His eyes flicker to Daiki, then back up toward Shane. "--about everything, really. But, we're still alive." He blinks, before adding -- as if as an afterthought: "Holycrap, we are. We survived a zombiepocalypse." Shane's eyes blink closed. He tips his head up, pressing his mouth back to Peter's. Not quick or peckish but deeper, hungrier. His forehead rests against Peter's afterwards. "She dealt with a lot." "Survived." Daiki echoes this pensively. His hand moves absently against Peter's chest, a light slow petting more friendly than sensual, in contrast to Shane's kiss. "For some value of. Half of us died during it. At one point or other." "I think maybe Karrie died during it the most," Shane admits, unhappily. Peter relaxes underneath Shane's kiss, kind-of melting; he grows a bit warmer, cheeks flushing with color -- fingers deepening their grip at the back of his plastic-y hair, squeezing. The hand at Daiki's waist loses some of its tenacity, but only because Peter's focus is intensifying on Shane; when the boy pulls back to rest his temple against Peter's head, he delivers a squeeze to Daiki's hip, lazily humming. The mention of Karrie's manydeaths coaxes a frown out of Peter, though he soon admits: "/I/ didn't," he hums, gently, before adding -- his hand moving out of Shane's hair to cup at his cheek, legs shifting and curling up against Daiki's lap. "--what's it like? Do you... is it -- bad? When you..." His lips purse, brow scrunching; he doesn't even want to /say/ the word -- not in proximity to Shane or Daiki. Daiki looks to Shane at this, at first. He studies the other boy's face for a long quiet moment, then looks down at Peter. "Bad is relative, isn't it?" His hand stays pressed to Peter's chest; his other snakes tighter around Shane's waist. Shane's gills flutter, very quick. He takes a small sip of tea. "Don't die," he says in a smaller more clipped voice. "And then you won't find out." Instead of replying with words, Peter snakes his hand hard around Shane's neck -- pulling him down to press his mouth against his with a fierce, possessive kiss. Shane returns the kiss, hard and deep, his fingers curling around the back of Peter's head to hold him close, too. Daiki flushes, a distinctive twist of desire curling through the pull that radiates from him. He slips himself out from beneath the others quietly, taking Shane's cup and topping it back off with fresh hot tea. He glances over at the others, briefly, and lowers his eyes as he slips from the room. Shane returns the kiss, hard and deep, his fingers curling around the back of Peter's head to hold him close, too. Daiki flushes, a distinctive twist of desire curling through the pull that radiates from him. He slips himself out from beneath the others quietly, taking Shane's cup and topping it back off with fresh hot tea. He glances over at the others, briefly, and lowers his eyes as he slips from the room.