ArchivedLogs:Familiar

Familiar
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve
In Absentia	2016-12-04 "I doubt I could stop punching bigots even if I wanted to."
Location <NYC> SHIELD HQ - Interview Room
The room is small, but nicely appointed. The walls are painted a neutral buff color, the furniture light-colored maplewood and upholstered in earth tones. Here and there, little splashes of brighter green trim and edging pop in unexpected places. There is the expected table and straight-backed chairs near the door, though there is a chess board built into the tabletop and neat drawers with chess and checkers pieces along the side. A brown L-shaped couch occupies one corner, bracketing an oval glass-topped coffee table with a matching armchair. Nearby, a sideboard supports an arcane computerized coffee machine as well as a simple pitcher of water on a tray with cups. A wide window admits ample natural light during the day and affords a view of the midtown skyline. All of this notwithstanding, the door locks from the outside and is always guarded. It's a mild, drizzly Sunday outside. The rain has been falling gently enough to form round, jewel-like drops on the glass of the windows overlooking the city, and the sky is not all that dark for the uncertain rainclouds. Steve is standing in front of the coffee machine, waiting patiently as it whirs away to create the brew he requested. He's wearing a green, blue, and purple plaid flannel shirt and crisp, clean indigo blue jeans. His shield is propped against the side of the couch, which is half taken up by an enormous brindled mutt. Soon enough the door opens. Closes again behind Jax -- he's a bright splash of colour on the grey drizzly afternoon, rainbow striped armwarmers and brightly patterned mismatched thigh-highs paired with very paint-splattered black and purple-mesh wide (wide-wide) leg shorts, a tight purple tee reading 'Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty', hair dyed in vivid and somewhat iridescent peacocky jewel-tones that hair dye really should not be able to achieve. One also iridescent hummingbird actively fluttering in the center of his silver eyepatch. "{Hi, St...}" His voice is a little subdued as he enters -- though then he breaks off, eye widening, breath catching in a sharp hitch. "Oh my /word/ aren't you the most /precious/!" Steve is, summarily, ignored. Jax is beelining instead for the couch, dropping to his knees by it to bestow scritchings upon Zenobia's head. "Pictures jus' don't do you justice you're ten /hundred/ times cuter." When the door opens, Zenobia pops up into a precise, attentive sit, her tail lashing the couch cushion with near worrying force. She tilts her broad head, nuzzling into Jax's hand, the nosing closer so that she can apply kisses to his face with a large pink tongue. Steve turns around and smiles indulgently at the sight, almost forgetting to take his coffee with him when he wanders over to sit beside his dog on the couch. "{Hi, Jax.}" He drops his free hand to scratch at the back of Zenobia's head. "I guess /she/ needs no introduction, but...Zen, this is my dear friend Jax. He's B and Shane and Spence's dad." A slight pause. "Obie's, too." A faint flutter of light blossoms around Jax as a laugh bubbles out of him. He scrunches his eye shut, turning his head to present his cheek to Zenobia's licking. His (purple and green chrome-tinted) nails scratch firmly behind her ears, his smile broad until he catches himself, making sure to carefully shut his mouth against any accidental slurping. His hand lifts back, fingers curling up against Steve's where the other man also scratches at Zenobia's head. The light around him deepens. His eye cracks open, head tipping up as a touch of pink darkens his cheeks. "I'm glad t'finally meet her." Satisfied that she has given Jax's cheek a thorough bathing, Zenobia flops down onto her side, head in Steve's lap, to present her belly. Steve's smile softens with fondness at the laughter, the halo of light around them. He grips Jax's hand tight for a moment, and lets out a shallow breath he had been holding. "The agent in charge called out sick today and Clint took her place. He's also taking a shift in the monitoring center, and says he intends to spend it improving his score in Super Hexagon -- whatever that is." He takes a long pull from his coffee and sets it down, freeing that hand and setting it, warm and heavy, on Jax's shoulder. "{How are you feeling?}" in quiet Spanish. Jax's head dips, eye closing as the red in his cheek darkens. His hand curls tight back through Steve's -- oddly cool compared to his usual fierce heat -- before dropping back to the couch. Then lifting to rub slow circles against Zenobia's belly. "Oh -- oh." Half a whisper. "So it's only Clint who --" He swallows, once, hard. His shoulder relaxes beneath Steve's hand. "{It has not been an easy...}" He trails off, shaking his head slightly. Tipping it up, offering Steve a wan half-smile. "{I think I'm tired.}" After a small pause: "I'm glad you're here, though." Steve nods. "It's just him for the afternoon. I...guess he'd noticed you having a rough time." He quirks a small smile down at Zenobia, who has subsided into a boneless puddle of dog save for her wildly thumping tail. "Was his idea I should bring Zen. Wish I'd thought of it earlier, but now the precedent has been set, hopefully we can have Obie and Flèche come for visits, too." His hand closes down on Jax's shoulder, kneading firmly. "{I'm glad to be here with you, it's...}" He frowns slightly. "It's getting worse all the time out there." Jax is slowly melting a little more bonelessly, too, under Steve's kneading. "I'd -- like that, too. I really miss..." He shakes his head, pulling in a slow breath. There's a tremor of light around him, shivering, unsteady. "I read the news but I'm sure it don't really convey -- an' my team tells me -- but I think they kinda downplay -- like they don't want me to worry jus' how..." His brows pull inward, blue eye lifting to meet Steve's. "... how bad /is/ it?" Steve lifts Jax's hand and kisses his knuckles lightly before disentangling his hand so he can effect a more symmetrical shoulder rub. "{There's a lot to miss,}" he agrees gently. He does not answer at once, brows gathering more deeply in thought. "There's definitely more violence -- against mutants, Latinos, Muslims, queer people. Just about anyone who rubs large groups of white men the wrong way I guess." His head gives a quick shake. "And that would be bad enough, but there's a /boldness/ to the random violence that wasn't there before and...some of it doesn't seem quite so random. It's infuriating, and terrifying." His jaw sets tight. "And /familiar./" Jax's breath catches. The light around him flares -- warmer, brighter -- at the light kiss. "... Steve." Just brief. Just quiet. He dips his head, eye shut tight. There's a long while before he answers. "Are people fighting it?" Zenobia rights herself and looks from Jax to Steve and back again. Then she squirms to the edge of the couch cushion and shoves her head against Jax's chest. Steve's hands clench down almost painfully tight for a moment, but he catches himself and resumes his massage. "{Some people,}" he allows, lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. "{Not nearly enough} Resistance is fragmented -- a lot of targeted communities are pulling inward to protect their own. And people who /aren't/ at risk, or aren't /yet/...just seem to be accepting it." Beneath Steve's hand Jax's shoulders tense sharply. He drops his head forward against Zenobia's, raising his hand to scritch beneath her chin. "What's it like around home? Are people --" He hesitates. A very long time. "Is everyone -- are folks been /safe/?" Zenobia's tail starts swishing again, though not nearly with its previous force, and she nuzzles Jax's chest, calmly solicitous. Steve's head dips, a small nod. "Folks are angry and worried, but we're doing pretty well taking care of each other." His hands slide down to the other man's upper arms, bracing there for a moment as in support. "There's been a lot more escort duty going around, informally, and your team runs security for a lot of community events." There's a thoughtful distance in his pale blue eyes. "That's good, it's important, but it's still very.../reactive./" It takes another long hesitation before, slowly, Jax leans into Steve's hold. His breathing is calmer, his hands slowly lifting to rest, gently, over Steve's. He sinks back, head thunking down against the other man's chest. "That don't sound very Gryffindor at all." Zenobia huffs an audible sigh, and climbs down off the couch to plop her head in Jax's lap instead. Steve draws a long, slow breath as Jax relaxes against him. "Not very. I do my share of punching bigots, when they need punching. I speak out against the direction things are going in, but it feels like people just ignore the parts they don't want to hear." He rests his head against Jax's, eyes sliding shut. "I'm really not so sure how useful I am -- as an icon or otherwise." "Is it selfish?" Jax's voice has dropped very low, here. "That I wish you /wasn't/ useful? To -- to the world, I mean. I -- I miss. I miss..." His fingers tighten, hard. It's with no small reluctance that he pulls one away to drop it to Zenobia's head for more scratches. "There's so many bigots need punchin', out there." "No. It isn't." Steve is quiet for a moment, his breathing slightly ragged. "The battles that we fight don't really mean anything without the people we're fighting for. And though we may be icons or even weapons, we -- are also /people./ Our littles lives give us direction, and drive, and the strength to persevere." He chuckles softly. "Never you fear. I doubt I could stop punching bigots even if I wanted to." Jax's fingers knead at Steve's arm, his grip tightening and relaxing erratically. "Feel like I been kinda short on those lately." He blinks abruptly, squeezes his eye tighter. "'pologies. I ain't -- I don't --" Drawing in a shaky breath, he sits up a little straighter. "Here I'm bein' so rude I ain't even offered you no lunch or nothin'." Steve's nod is barely visible, and his "Me, too" barely audible. He rubs his hands along Jax's arms as if to warm him. "I ate just before heading here, but I could certainly use more. As always." He slides his grip down to take the other man's hands as he rises, pulling him up and into an offer of an embrace. Jax scoops up Zenobia's large head, gently lifting her off his lap before he takes Steve's hands and rises. The warm glow spreads around him again -- soft, but shaky once more. His hands tremble as well, curling in tentatively against Steve's as he steps in to the hug. "I've missed you." Fierce and quiet. Zenobia gets up without complaint, yawning hugely and dropping into a languid play-bow. Steve wraps his arms around Jax carefully. But he sucks in a sharp breath at the fierce, quiet declaration, and crushes the smaller man tight against him. "Oh, Jax." His face turns in against the brightly colored hair. "I'm here."