ArchivedLogs:Fondue
| Fondue | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2016-02-14 Together we can grow something wonderful. |
| Location
<NYC> {Birdhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side | |
This house does not, perhaps, look much like what many people would think when they think of the home of a rock star. Modest and not flashy in a normal sense, it is nevertheless /eye/-catching -- huge tall ceilings, huge tall windows, wide open layout, a balcony from the second floor looking down on the first. Its walls have been studded with a number of long branch-like poles jutting out at angles; from the ceiling hang a few different trapeze-like swings. The furniture is minimalist, low-slung futons and a few overly enormous puffy beanbags, tables set low to the ground. The extravagant entertainment system is the one concession to ostentation. Most of the ground floor is open in layout, foyer opening up into a huge living room, kitchen and dining rooms adjoining it, a small sunny conservatory tucked to the other side of the living room that looks out over the river, a wide full bath off the conservatory. The three bedrooms off the balcony upstairs each have their own bathrooms. There's another full bath and separate smaller kitchen in the basement, together with two spare guest bedrooms and a somewhat cluttered soundproofed room full of musical equipment. It's a sunny day, but frigid even when the wind isn't blowing. When it does, the cold definitely has a vicious bite. In the shade, it's even worse. Steve strolls over from Commonhaus, his face freshly shaven and his hair perfectly coifed. Against the frigid temperature he wears a long charcoal greatcoat and a blue ombre scarf that looks like the gradient of a clear sky from horizon to zenith and lends more color to his eyes. He knocks on the door to Birdhaus and immediately returns his red-gloved hands to his coat pockets. The door to Birdhaus slides open in short order. Horus is bright, today -- his feathers bear their usual patterning but have been reshaded, still white where they're always white but shades of deep dark crimson to lighter red where he's usually speckled and shaded brown and grey, black still tipping his wings. There's a very faint iridescence to some of his primary flight feathers, gleaming in the light -- there's a /lot/ of light, bright glass hearts glowing pink and red where they've been hung around from the ceiling -- as he skitters back from the door, eying Steve Very Critically. "Hello, Horus!" Steve's /greeting/ is bright, even if his person is not so much. He hastens inside with an apologetic dip of his head and produces from his coat pocket a silver pocket watch on a chain, faceted iridescent crystal set into its cover in an abstract geometric design. Holds it out toward Horus with a little bow. "It doesn't have a battery, you have to wind it -- by turning that ring," he points out. "I've heard that's not so common these days." Horus chirrups happily, beak clicking as he snags the chain from Steve. There's still a stream of twittering coming from him as he swoops back up towards his room. He's flitting down a moment later, the pocketwatch gone but a broken toy held in one large taloned claw instead. He extends it almost daintily out to Steve -- a battered old Twin Beech model airplane, dirty, one of its tailfins broken, paint faded and chipping, that he presents solemnly to the older man. Spence is trudging out from the kitchen by now, quiet in socked feet. Jeans, a black t-shirt reading 'Stand back, I'm going to try SCIENCE'. Nibbling on a cookie, looking Steve over with furrowed brows. "{Pa's downstairs.}" His French is a little muffled because -- cookie. "{Do you want a cookie.}" Steve accepts the model airplane, his smile startled but pleased. Then just a little wistful. "{Thank you,}" in Spanish, as he cradles the plane in the crook of one arm. Then, in French, "{Hi, Spence. Thank you, I'd love a cookie.}" Horus bops Steve lightly atop his head before vanishing back upstairs. Spencer disappears into the kitchen, reappearing in front of Steve a moment later with not one but two different cookies -- one crinkly and chocolate-caramel, one raspberry thumbprint -- wrapped in a napkin. "{Pa's been cooking /all/ morning.}" His lips have twisted slightly to the side, eyes flicking towards the basement stairs. "{Except the last ten /hours/ he's been changing.}" Steve is still in the process of shedding his heavy coat by the time Spencer returns -- granted, it was not a long trip. Underneath he wears a dark blue blazer, sky blue shirt, and gray trousers. "{Oh, thank you!}" He brightens at the /bounty/ of cookie, setting the model airplane down with his coat before accepting. "{That's a lot of cooking /and/ a lot of changing.}" His eyes dart to the basement stairs, unsure. "{Should I wait? Clothing choice is a serious business for him.}" Spence considers this a moment, leaning against the back of a futon, his tongue poking into the corner of his mouth. "{He might be down there forever,}" he tells Steve after some consideration. "{And /then/ you'll never have your lunch and /then/ you'll miss your show. You should probably go get him.}" Steve lifts his eyebrows very slightly, perhaps mildly alarmed by the prospect. "{That would be unfortunate! I'm sure his outfit looks great, anyhow.}" Armed with cookies, he descends the stairs and -- stops in front of Jax's door, hesitant. Finally lifts a hand to knock. "{It's me,}" he adds, a moment later, in Spanish. "{Are you alright?}" "{What?} Oh gosh. {Are you here already oh no} oh no {how did it get so late sorry!}" The door cracks open a moment later, Jax's bright blue eye peeking out through the crack. "{I'm fine! I just, um. Sorry I lost track of. I thought I'd be ready by now I'm -- oh. Oh you look. Nice.}" Steve starts to run his hand through his hair, but stops himself with a faintly self-conscious smile. "{Thank you. And it's alright, there's still time. If you need to change.}" Then, looking down at his hand. "{Do you want a cookie?}" "{Oh, I don't know if I -- maybe I should just -- Cookie!}" Jax brightens, finally taking a step back to pull the door open wider. "{That would be excellent.}" His cheeks are flushed pink -- sort of a contrast to the red and black colour scheme of his outfit. Crisp black slacks, a neat black button-down with red contrast at the trim of its collar and cuffs, thin (very faintly metallic) red piping crosshatching one shoulder. An asymetrically cut red and black jacket over top. His makeup has been carefully applied, sharp-winged black eyeliner with red and silver contrast eyeshadow, black and silver ombre lipstick. Hair jet black, today, frosted with metallic red tips. The black eyepatch he wears sports a cheerfully glittery red heart in its center. "{/Two/ cookie.} Guess there ain't really a lotta danger'a you spoiling your lunch." Steve is still holding out the cookies, standing outside the door, as if he has utterly forgotten what he was doing, pale blue eyes rapt as they take in Jax. "Oh, gosh. You --" He blinks rapidly, finally stepping inside. "{You're beautiful. No, I mean you're always beautiful, but --}" Blinks again. "{No, I could probably eat a whole plate of cookies without spoiling my lunch. But take one, please. I have something else for you, too.}" With his free hand he pulls a pink envelope from the inner pocket of his blazer, sealed with a shiny metallic red heart sticker, covered with small doodles of strange, fae-like Putti shooting arrows /at each other/, and addressed 'To my Valentine' in tight but neat cursive. "{Do you really think?}" Jax brightens, bouncing slightly on his toes. "{Tag did my hair but I have take so long with makeup and clothes. and -- oh.}" He smiles bright, plucking the card from Steve's hand. "Do I open it now? Is that what I do?" He's not actually waiting for an answer. He's just turning the card over -- his smile is even /brighter/ at the drawings on its envelope -- and unsealing the envelope with an odd amount of finicky care. "{I do. Really.}" Steve smiles, wide and guileless. "You look absolutely amazing." He surrenders the envelope, blushing fiercely. "{Don't have to -- but of course you can.}" Kind of belatedly, as Jax is already doing so. The card is double-layered, a sheaf of white paper with a lacy cutout edge over a larger piece of red construction paper. The top sheet bears a color drawing of an adorable golden retriever. Big eyes. Head tilted. Floppy ears pricked up as far as they will go. A round tag hanging from his collar that looks just like Steve's shield. Carrying a big red lacy heart in his mouth that reads 'Be Mine' in flowery script. Inside, written in Steve's crabbed hand:
There's a slow flush that spreads through Jax as he reads over the card. Then reads over it again. It blossoms deep red in his cheeks, first, but then spreads out to glow soft and warm in the air around him. "-- /Oh/." His smile is bright and brilliant as he looks back up, rocks forward, throws his arms out to wrap Steve in a fierce tight hug. "Oh, you -- that's -- you -- /oh/." He's a little choked, his eye a little bright, when he pulls back. Kisses Steve, hard. Hugs the card against his chest, now. "... We should go up. I made food." Steve smiles wider when the glow blossoms around Jax. Gathers him close with one powerful arm, the other held wide to keep the cookies clear of hair, makeup, and clothes. Eyes go a little wide when Jax kisses him. Touches his own lips after, as if he expects to find himself wearing lipstick now. "Glad you like it. {And yes, please! I'm so hungry.}" This all tumbles out rather rapidly as he leads the way back out toward the stairs. "Oh! Cookie?" he reminds Jax, holding out the cookies again. "{What's for lunch?}" Jax's lipstick proves surprisingly resilient to kissing; it is still firmly in place and Steve's lips remarkably free of pigment after he pulls back. He nabs a cookie from Steve, trotting eagerly up the stairs in the other man's wake as he munches it. "Oh! Oh I got it all ready come on." Upstairs he slips his hand into Steve's, tugging the other man along towards the sunroom. There's a sprinkling of origami flowers scattered over the low table in the center of the room, brilliant in a dazzling array of swirls and splashes of colour. Tucked onto one edge of the table, a bouquet of flowers -- glittering glass ones, the elegant fluted vase swirled in blue and sparkling silver. There's an envelope propped up against the vase, too, plain red with 'Steve' written on it in Jax's stark pointy-sharp writing. In the center of the table, plugged into a powerstrip beneath it, a squat black fondue pot, small bowls and little forks set out alongside it already. There's a cooler underneath the table, though there's already a plate of neatly cubed pieces of bread and apple slices set out waiting. Jax hastens into the room, switching the heater on the pot on and stirring it. "There's um, there's chocolate for dessert too." Steve finishes his own cookie on the way up the stairs, but peers curiously at Jax's face after he finishes it. "That lipstick...are you doing that? With light? Or is it some modern makeup wizardry that keeps it on?" He lets Jax lead him, his eyes going quite wide when he sees the table laid out. "Oh, wow! I love...fondue." He's blushing /very/ fiercely as he picks up the card and opens it. "Oh, gosh, no, /this/ is the magic of lip primer." Jax kneels down on one of the plush cushions alongside the table, stirring again at the cheesy sauce heating in the fondue pot. He glances up with a quick smile, a small crinkle of his nose. "Oh! You do? Good, Hive said I -- I wasn't sure what to -- I just wanted to do somethin' that you'd --" His cheeks flush dark. "Good." Steve's envelope holds a card, as well. A small single square of paper; the miniature painting on it is bright, done in Jax's readily identifiable whimsical-surreal style. A bright forest of greenery -- a garden overflowing with herbs and flowers, vegetables, a large flowering peach tree in one corner. One flower in the center of the garden is unfurling, a radiant glowing star nestled amidst its spreading petals. On the reverse side of the colourful painting, simply:
Steve smiles, cradling the tiny painting in his hands. Reverently, "{This is beautiful. Thank you.}" He sinks down to a cushion, as well, watching Jax stir the pot. "Hive? {He would know, yes.}" He's /still/ blushing as he tucks the valentine back into its envelope, then the envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket. "{Thank you for the meal, also.}" He's quiet for a moment. "{So...there's a story. An embarrassing one. About me and fondue.}" His smile goes crooked. "If you want to hear it." "{I just hope you like it. And I /know/ you're going to like the musical, it's... Wait, a pregnant story --}" Jax's brows furrow, confusion spreading across his face briefly. His brows scrunch -- it takes a moment before his expression resolves into a laugh and a deeper blush. "/Oh/ oh right -- yeah -- no I mean. Wait do you want t'tell me embarrassing stories?" Jax leans across the table, taking Steve's hand in a quick squeeze. "{I want to hear all your stories.}" | |
