ArchivedLogs:Fair

Fair
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Hive, Micah	20 January 2015 Warning: touchy stuff.
Location <NYC> {Geekhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
There's an open airy feel to the floorplan of this unit. The door opens up into a wide expanse of common space that is not so much divided up into rooms as it is simply multipurposed. Ash-grey resin flooring underfoot runs up against the paler grey of the exposed stone in the walls; between the stone support there are wide floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the river on one side of the home and the Commons' central yard on the other. Half of the space has a ceiling at one-floor height, though half of the space is left open with a balcony up on the second floor overlooking the living space below. A slatted stairway heads up to the second floor balcony; on the other side of the room, a fireman's pole running straight down to the basement provides a quicker way /down/. The wide open space here is combination living and dining room; near the windows there are a pair of couches and large armchair around a wide coffeetable; further off a steel-and-glass dining table is surrounded by eight tall black chairs. A full bathroom behind the stairway is done up in dark granite; the glass-doored bathtub/shower is rather expansively large. The kitchen is tucked off in back, beneath the half-height ceiling; in here the appliances and cabinets and shelving recessed into the wall are in brushed steel, wide grey sweeps of tempered glass countertops running around the edge of the room and a large central island holding stoves and oven and deep double sink. Adjacent to the kitchen, beneath the ceiling as well, is a sitting area structured largely around the enormous television against one wall, a wealth of video games for a number of consoles held on the shelves around the television. Crates and beanbags and one low futon folded against the floor are arranged in good viewing distance; opposite the television, a sturdy large pen built out of wood shrines a couch amid a sea of brightly colorful playpen balls. A door in one wall opens up to the apartment next door; a door opposite leads down to the basement. There's a steady whir of a sewing machine over in the television room, from where Dusk has set up on a pair of crates. Dressed in brown corduroys, no shirt, no shoes, his wings recoloured to a deep midnight-blue with a stardust-sprinkling of silver scattered like constellations over the sails and gleaming chromed talons, he's kind of half-focused on the very small onesie he's working on (oddly proportioned in its arms and legs, with holes for wings and a tail) and kind of half-focused on Orphan Black on the television. Across the house there's the quiet sound of Simon and Garfunkel, playing low from Hive's laptop, not really loud enough to carry all the way over the sound of the television all the way on the other side of the floor. The living/dining room is kind of flooded with holographic blueprints, Hive currently sprawled on his belly on the floor, manually rearranging his work with a deep frown. Micah comes peeking in through the door uncertainly, feet taking some time to follow after head and shoulders like a small animal making its way out of a burrow. He looks like he hasn't been home long, hair still a little wet and spiky, work clothes swapped out for a Batsignal hoodie, Doctor Whooves tee, pale blue henley, patchy jeans, and soot sprite slippers. Slipping in to the television room, he glances sidelong at Dusk, a sudden mixture of joy and remorse and a sharp pang of something complicated upon seeing the onesie in progress. "Hey. Are you...I mean you're busy. But is it an interruptable busy?" "Eh?" Dusk looks a little startled at first as he looks up, but this morphs into a fangy-sharp smile a moment later. He looks back down, working his way to the end of his row of stitches before he pauses the television. One wing stretches out as he does this, curling out to hook around Micah and drag him in closer. "Hey, man. For you? Always." It doesn't take much dragging, Micah's arms flinging around Dusk's neck to pull him into a fierce-tight hug. "I didn't wanna monopolise you at your party. I'm so glad you're back. This has all been so incredibly terrible." He mashes his face into the other man's shoulder, already a little teary-eyed. "I love you. An' I tried. Too hard. An' I messed ev'rythin' up so bad. I just..." Not that he's easy to /see/ in their current arrangement, but the hand that he finally pulls away from Dusk snakes its way to his chest, fist circling over his heart. Dusk's wing curls snug around Micah, pulling him close and tight as well. He presses his lips to Micah's neck, head shaking. "No -- no, shit, Micah. You didn't. You didn't mess anything -- I just, fuck. I was a mess, you know? I was scared as fuck and I didn't know what I was doing -- didn't know what /to/ do, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean for any of this. I didn't mean to bring so much shit into your life, you know? I just. Was panicking." He presses his next kiss to Micah's temple. "And I love you guys. And it means the world to me that you -- were willing to -- I just. Never wanted it to be like that. I'm sorry." Micah's head shakes in return, though he just leans in against Dusk that much harder. "No. No, you didn't. Y'wouldn't never. If I hadn't...if I hadn't decided I was the freakin'...saviour of every situation maybe. Maybe your or Isra would've had the space in your head t'think of the people who'd actually. Not ruin ev'rythin' for ev'rybody. But I had t'jump in the middle of your crisis 'cause it's what I...always do." His trembling is subtle, but noticeable enough pressed against the other man the way he is. "Y'didn't bring nothin' bad. All you did was give us your baby when I asked. An' I /love/ Eri. An' they're gonna...be good. Now." Smoosh back against Dusk's shoulder goes Micah's slightly-damp face. "You don't hate me?" "Yeah, the little monster's gonna be good." Dusk's wing rubs against Micah's back, slow, his face nuzzling in against the other man's neck with a bristly-rough scruff of beard. "You should see Ion with 'em it's fucking. Ridiculous. Adorable. I don't know." He breathes out a quick laugh, a little shaky. "I /love/ you. Always. Like I'm going to hate you for -- what. Loving me too much? Fff." “I don't know. I think ev'ryone else kind of hates me. An' I didn't. Expect any of it. So now I don't know anymore. Feels safer t'just ask an' get it over with.” Micah swallows past a hard lump in his throat, the simple physical affection threatening to start the tears all over again. << I don't hate you. >> It's a solid hammering-heavy thud of pounding into Micah's skull. Wham. Hive hasn't looked up from his work. "Everyone?" Dusk's brows lift skeptically. "Seems unlikely. Anyway even if it /is/ true," which is still-skeptical tone implies: probably not, "/I/ love you enough for all the rest of those motherfuckers." This time his lips press to Micah's neck rather than his scratchy-scruffy beard. (OK, maybe a little bit of scratchy-scruffy beard, too.) /Maybe/ the sob has something to do with the harsh thud in Micah's head. Maybe. << Thank you, >> he manages to think far before he's able to speak, taking some time to rein in the single sob from turning into more. "I don't...I don't... The twins thought I didn't want 'em or care about 'em no more an' might still think it. An' Jax thought I wanted t'leave 'im...might still think. That's been...I don't know. Folks been accusin' me of just lettin' 'im /die/ an' not carin'. Mel almost stopped talkin' t'me altogether 'cause I didn't let her take Eri t'babysit long-term? An' I still...that don't make any sense t'me. But she said all these other...things. That weren't. Okay things. An' I have /no/ idea what I did t'Kay but I think he's convinced I'm evil." Fortunately he doesn't have that much strength to offer, particularly these days, because he is pouring most of it into clinging to Dusk. "They can't try t'take you away again." "The pups been through a whole fucking lot that -- I didn't want to put them through, either. Feel like I have a lot of apologies to make." Dusk's brows furrow uncertainly. "-- Mel -- what?" This is just confused, more than anything. "Pretty much anyone babysitting the Gremlin sounds like a terrible idea, I don't --" His head shakes in confusion. "Dude, you're human. I think you've gotta be like Gandhi and MLK and Jesus rolled up into one before Kay starts thinking you're maybe sort of okay." The last, though, just makes him squeeze Micah tighter. His next kiss is pressed to the other man's lips, fierce and hard. His eyes close, forehead resting against Micah's. "I don't know what's going to happen," he admits quietly. "Behind bars I'll still love you, though." "That weren't...that weren't your fault." A fiercer squeeze, if possible, seems intended to reinforce the statement. "Y'didn't even know we hadn't talked to 'em yet. I just. I just had this stupid assumption I didn't even know I had. In my head. That they were gonna be good with it. Because the Egg was so likely t'be like them. An' they had it so...wrong. The way they grew up. An' they're doin' so /well/ now an' that's...more 'cause of Jax than it'll ever be 'cause of me. But that's a huge part of why I wanted so bad t'help Eri. I kept... They think I was expectin' Tola. I was more expectin'...them. Just. With less poison an' severe photosensitivity. An' more time t'prepare." Micah's shoulders sag a little at the question of Mel. "I don't know. I thought she was upset at somethin' I said when she came by, 'cause I was /kind of/ a crazy person at the time. But she just wanted me t'say after. That I should've let her take Eri. An' not lettin' her was sayin' she was weak or that I thought she couldn't take care of Tola. I don't know. She's still kinda upset at me over it but I couldn't say even now that I thought I should've. Let her." Micah's head shakes at Dusk's thoughts on Kay. "I don't know. I didn't...get that from him. Not b'fore. I thought...even if we weren't great friends 'cause we didn't spend that much time t'gether or nothin'. We were at least on friendly terms. Maybe I should've known better? It seemed sudden, but the kind of /horrible/ things he was sayin' 'bout me weren't. Sudden-soundin'. I might've said or done somethin' to upset 'im t'set 'im off t'begin with. It's...incredibly likely. He dropped by right as the withdrawal was startin' t'get bad. I spent the rest of the day curled up in one spot on the couch 'cause movin' seemed like the worst thing in the world. But...that wouldn't. It wouldn't've /suddenly/ made 'im think I'm some kinda horrible predatory person just usin' people with special abilities. Said I had some kinda 'broken mutant fetish' on top of a lotta other things. I just. Never would've thought. But maybe I should've?" The torrent of words is serving largely to put off asking a harder question. "I'll still love you, too. But you don't. Y'don't deserve any of this. It's not fair." "Wasn't /not/ my fault, either. Any of it. /All/ of it, Christ, I'm /usually/ really fucking /careful/ with sex too but Isra, we didn't even think it was /possible/ for --" Dusk shakes his head, forehead resting briefly against Micah's again. There's a small upward curl to his lips, a soft huff of laugh. "Dude, you don't have a broken mutant fetish, you just love broken fucking people. You're a sap you can't help yourself." He slides off his crate and onto a beanbag, other wing curling around Micah to ease the other man down with him. "Since when is life ever fair? Life hasn't been fair since way the hell before my wings grew in." One talon taps lightly against Micah's prosthetic leg. "/Guessing/ it hasn't been fair for you since about fucking ever. Be boring as hell to let /that/ get in the way of enjoying it." "I guess...I dunno. I was tellin' 'em that I just been helpin' genetically enhanced folks more'n more exclusively 'cause. Not...genetically enhanced people. Don't want me anymore. Kay accused me of blamin' Jax for drivin' off all my nice human friends, meanwhile." Micah's head shakes exasperatedly. "I got humans tellin' me t'stick t'my own kind.../not/ meanin' /them/, an' people with special abilities...well, enough of 'em, I guess, thinkin' I'm evil an' I should stay away. I guess broken's really m'only...kind. At all. Fits /me/ well enough." He curls in tight against Dusk's side as he is pulled down. "I know it sounds like a three-year-old complainin' things ain't fair. But there's /levels/ of not fair. An' you just seem t'keep meetin' new ones an' I hate t'see it /so/ much." This new position makes the pair of grey-lensed, green framed (to match Eri's eyes) baby glasses doctored into sunglass goggles clipped to Micah's belt loop more obvious. The physical reminder of the question finally drags it out. "I... I'd asked Ion if it'd be okay for me t'visit Eri. I miss 'em. An' it's good for infants t'have some consistency in who's around, right? He said yes. But that was b'fore I found out Kay thinks I'm a terrible-evil-horrible influence who shouldn't be 'round ever. I...I still want. I love Eri, but. I'm afraid t'ask. I don't wanna start infightin' in whatever family unit this is, wherever it is. If they really don't want me. Then maybe it's better if I don't, but." He holds the goggles up for Dusk. "They're so sensitive t'light. I wanted 'em t'be able t'go out durin' the day. I should...ideally I should fit 'em in person, 'specially since they might've gotten a little bigger. But maybe I should just tell y'how as best I can. Eri's gonna keep havin' equipment needs. For communication, if nothin' else. An' maybe I'm bein' some accolade-seekin', self-aggrandizin', my-opinion-is-always-best jerk. But I feel like I'm the best person t'take care of those? Um. So maybe? If I can't actually visit. I can at least help. In an official medical capacity." "There's levels of not-fair, sure. And people like me --" One of Dusk's wings shifts up in a small hitched shrug. "We get huge heaping fucking doses of it." His smile curves bright and wide. "S'just why I'm that much more badass to make up for it." He's nuzzling in against Micah's neck again when the question comes; his head drops back against the beanbag, eyes slipping down to the glasses curiously. "Huh. Hey, cool." Though his head shakes after this. "Humans aren't even allowed in most of our safehouses," he admits, not really apologetically so much as matter-of-fact; inwardly his mind ripples with a shiver of discomfited tension that doesn't spill over to his expression. "But the Omelette could come here, probably. Ion's already got 'em a tiny-baby sidecar for his chopper." "You are the biggest badass," Micah says with /excessive/ fondness, tipping his head to the nuzzling and nuzzling his chin into Dusk's chest in turn. "Yeah, I figured. It was somethin' like that. No one's been tellin' me who all Eri was goin' t'stay with or where. 'Sides the fact that you an' Isra an' Ion an'...Kay. Would be involved. I didn't think I'd be allowed t'visit 'em at home. But...our house, prob'ly also not a great idea with the twins...um. I figured I'd maybe see 'em at the Clinic for the equipment. I just. Didn't know if it'd be okay t'see 'em at all otherwise. If maybe most of this new family ain't gonna want me to. I don't wanna make no more messes on my account." There's a faint answering shiver of pressure up against Dusk's mind, touching there in response to that tension. Not exactly prying so much as tamping it back down. Shhh. S'okay. "I mean, the monster'll probably be /here/ now and then and it's all -- the same house so if that's gonna be a problem the pups'll probably have to --" Dusk shrugs. "I'll talk to them. See how they're feeling. And I doubt most people will care c'mon you know most of us already." There's a faint brief tightening, a harder clench of tension at the feel of Hive's mind on his, but this eases into relaxation. His wing slides against Micah's back, lips pressing in against the other man's collarbone. "Fuck, I missed you." "I don't know. I didn't know there was this mystical enclave of awesome genetically enhanced families out there. Or maybe m'stupid self would've told you t'send Eri there t'begin with." This time when Micah says it, it's in a lighter tone. "I just don't wanna assume nothin's okay again. It ain't been goin' too well for me so far." Some of the exceedingly stressed cords of Micah's muscles release a bit at this holding close, at the caress, the kiss. His hands pet along Dusk's back, a kiss placed to the corner of the other man's lips. "Missed you so hard." "Mystical, shit, dude. S'about as fucking mystical as /this/ place is. Where do you think everyone /goes/ after we pull them out of hell? They're sure as fuck not all here." Dusk shakes his head, shrugging his wing again. "There's a /crapton/ of families of freaks out there. Pretty much all with about as fucked-up starts as this one." His hands curl in beneath his wings, slipping fingers beneath Micah's shirts to run against the other man's side. His next kiss is soft, full on the mouth, a small smile tugging his lips up afterward. "... Yeah?" A gentle-careful tug pulls Micah's hips in a little firmer against his own. "Just how hard?" "I might be playin' it up a little in m'head 'cause it /rescued/ m'sorry behind when I didn't have no other options. An' also 'cause I didn't know 'bout it 'til now, s'all." Micah shivers at the touch, trembles from more than just the contact. The small sound that catches in his throat is nearly a whimper as he melts into the kiss. Eventually, he slides the goggle-sunglasses onto a side table to keep them safe for now, hands sketching along the outsides of Dusk's hips and in toward his stomach. "Want I should show you?" "I mean, you want to accuse me of being a goddamn wizard I'm not gonna deny it." Dusk's muscles firm up, taut beneath Micah's fingers. His hands slide up the other man's back, hips rolling up slowly against Micah's as he claims another kiss, fiercer, hungrier. "Yes. Oh, God, yes." "Pretty sure you're /some/ kinda wizard," Micah concurs with entirely more warmth in his voice than is warranted for such playful statements. Micah's kiss is eager to be claimed but just as fierce in its return. His hands stroke one each downward across Dusk's stomach and up along his inner thighs, meeting /slowly/ in the middle. "Maybe we should go t'your room. Hive's workin'," his whispers close to Dusk's ear once his mouth is free again. The small flutter-shiver-squeeze up against both the other men's minds feels like a quiet breath of amusement, silent mental laughter ghosting in and then disappearing. Warm. But not particularly bothered. "-- Telepath," Dusk is needlessly reminding pretty much even as this mental pressure drifts in and out. "He'll hear us /just/ as clear up there." Which is maybe why he isn't really bothering to move. Just pull back to strip Micah of his layers of shirts, hands running over the other man's chest as he presses more kisses to his neck. "Love you." "Mmn." Possibly Dusk removing his clothing is a good enough argument, since Micah certainly isn't resisting it. He shivers at the hands on him, his own hands separating again to leave one to a slow stroke at the front of Dusk's corduroys while the other sketches nails up his back and neck to tangle into his hair. His chin tips back, baring his neck to more kisses with another small-shuddery whimper. "Love you."