ArchivedLogs:Going Out

Going Out
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jax
In Absentia	6 August 2014 Also staying in.
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. The evening is working on getting dark, the sky that lovely indigo that lasts only moments before the light fades fully. The earlier day had been muggy, spitting rain on and off, and nightfall promises a breezier respite from August in the city. Micah pushes the door open, holding it for Jax in his triumphant return from /outside/ in his first foray off the Commons grounds since the last raid. He is dressed simply in sneakers, jeans, and a black T-shirt with a reproduction of a parchment page bearing sketches of Toothless and designs for his tail prosthesis on it. Atop all of this are several bags: one olive messenger bag hanging at his hip as always and two canvas grocery bags filled with warm and spicy smelling Chinese food. The outfit becomes even simpler as Micah leaves his messenger bag and shoes by the door, padding into the sunroom in (black, rainbow lizard patterned) stocking feet. Jax is dressed colourfully once again, though of late he’s been kind of /drab/ around the house. Today there is bright green polish on fingers and toes, a dusting of silver-purple glimmer over his eye, his rainbow-lotus batik sarong and a silver-dragonfly dotted purple tank. He is looking just a little droopy as they return, kind of wilted after venturing outside. He slips out of his sandals at the door, locking it behind him and following after his husband. He doesn’t take a seat on any of the furniture, instead moving to kneel on the floor by a windowseat, wincing faintly as he settles down. His fingers lace in his lap, unlacing and relacing with a small restless fidget. Micah settles the food prior to settling himself, bags opened onto the low coffee table and containers arranged for ease of access for eating. The table itself gets a little tug closer to Jax's chosen seat. Scallion pancake appetizers, braised eggplant, ma po tofu, garlicky spinach, and tons of rice find their way out onto it with appropriate chopsticks, spoons, and napkins. Micah brings himself into a side-sitting position next to Jax, a hand tracing up his husband's spine idly as he does so. “S'there gonna be any comfortable position for you for the next few days?” Jax shivers underneath the touch, leaning back into Micah’s fingers with a small sigh, a small /perk/ of his previously flagging posture. It is enough to spur him to actually get food, spinach and ma po tofu sharing opposite sides of a bowl of rice. “On my back is pretty alright,” he answers -- though this comes near immediately afterwards with a small /blush/ that he tries to hide around a nibble of spinach. “I might be goin’ through a fair bit’a ibuprofen this week.” Micah tops his own bowl of rice with a small spoon of each the entrees, then pinches a triangle of pancake in a napkin to nibble on. He very nearly giggles at Jax's response, lips pulled upward and pressed tight at the same time, rosier cheeks shading to match his husband's blush. Spinach isn't an adequate shield, it would seem. “Did y'need some now?” There is a beat of silence before he adds, “Ibuprofen, I mean.” The question pulls Jax’s blush even deeper, eye opening a touch wider. “Ah --” Only when the clarification comes does he duck his head sheepishly. “Oh. /Oh/. Oh gosh, um. Yeah, I’d love --” The red isn’t going away. He scrunches his eye shut tight, and compounds his own blushing by leaning in closer to his husband, nuzzling against Micah’s neck. “... mmm. /Ibuprofen/. Right.” There's no help for the giggling this time as Jax's answer seems to /change/ with the medication clarification. “Ohgosh,” Micah echoes softly, light laughter ongoing through his speech. A soft hum answers the nuzzling long before Micah answers the...maybe request? “Oh. Honey, was that a yes on the pills? I think that was a yes, which means I'm gonna hafta get up an' fetch 'em.” Not that he's going to do that without some confirmation first. There are nuzzles happening, after all. "That," Jax answers with another nuzzle, "was a yes on -- you." Though maybe first on /food/, because he eventually leaves off the nuzzling for another bite of spinach. "... Also pills. Or else the /you/ part might be just a /little/ more torture than I usually go in for." “You /are/ in a better mood today.” That previous blush has nothing on the crimson that creeps right up to Micah's ears by the time Jax has finished explaining. He leans in to peck a kiss to his husband's temple before setting his pancake on top of his rice and extricating himself for a trip to the nearest bathroom. He returns with the small round pills in hand, tucking his legs back under him before holding them out for Jax to claim. Jax smoothes a hand down the front of his skirt, a small smile twitching at his lips though it fades quickly. "Feelin' a little more like myself, inch by in --" No, wait, here he also loses himself in a fit of /red/, busying himself with his food until Micah returns with pills. He swallows them dry, chasing them with another mouthful of rice and tofu. "'sides," he adds softer, "bein' in a /terrible/ mood is gettin' exhausting." “Seriously?” Micah's question comes through another burst of laughter, because that particular combination of hand gesture and word choice...seriously. The hand that had been full of pills shifts to pet at Jax's head and the back of his neck once emptied, other hand reclaiming the pancake slice to resume nibbling. “S'good. Miss takin' you places. Even if it weren't a /far/ field trip. Glad t'see you happier.” A small happy purr rumbles in Jax's throat, eye fluttering closed at the petting. "I miss going places with you," he admits, "it's just. Been." He shakes his head hard, chopsticking up a mouthful of food. "But it's nice. It helped. Havin' you -- probably still need to stick to. Familiar places. For a minute." Micah's hand lingers, continuing to pet at Jax's neck, seeing as only one hand is really needed for eating. He finishes off the slice of scallion pancake and gathers chopsticks to start working on the food in his bowl. “Y'just let me know. Wherever it is y'get an idea t'be goin' an' I'll go with you soon's I'm able. Ain't no rush t'be goin' new places or nothin'. S'plenty we're familiar with 'round here. An' stayin' in can be nice sometimes, too...” Jax bows his head over his food, happy to eat /and/ get pettings at once. "Might be -- /some/ rush, I can't imagine anyone's gonna love me for skippin' work /forever/. I just..." But here he trails off again, relaxing back into Micah's touch. "Stayin' in," he decides, setting down his chopsticks to tip his head back up and press a kiss to his husband's neck, "can be pretty fantastic. But thank you. For comin'. I don't think I coulda." He slides his arm around Micah's waist, squeezing the other man closer. “Well, work ain't /new/ places, though. S'all familiar. An' there's folks there y'know. An' I can even go /with/ you when y'wanna. Just...prob'ly can't stay your whole shift nowhere more'n a day or two.” Another pleased hum comes with the kiss, very nearly a purr. Micah scoots in at the squeeze, pressed close to Jax's side and nuzzling up. “You're more'n welcome, honey. Don't even think about it.” "No, work ain't. New. Just. Full of people that I..." Jax shakes his head quickly, evidently not interested in thinking too much about this just this moment. Not with more tempting things to distract him. His fingers slip beneath Micah's shirt, his next kiss coming with a small flick of tongue against skin. "What if I /want/ t'think about it?" There's a small purr still lingering in his voice. "Kinda thinkin' on a couple ways I'd love t'thank you." “Shh, s'okay. I didn't mean t'say y'had t'go there immediately. S'best t'take some time if y'need it an' acknowledge that rather'n tryin' t'go back too soon, 'specially doin' guard detail.” Micah's chin tips back to grant better access to kisses, a little shiver meeting Jax's fingers as they brush against his skin. “Don't /worry/ 'bout it was more m'meanin'. If you're thinkin' up things...don't imagine that'd hurt none.” Yep, those chopsticks find their way back to rest across Micah's rice bowl. More hands are required to maintain neck petting with the addition of bellyrubs. "Oh, well, that much I can do. Just right this moment I ain't worryin' much at all." For once. Instead of worrying Jax is tugging the hem of his skirt up over his knees so that, once Micah's hands are freed, he can move to straddle the other man's lap. The movement comes with a small pained hiss before he finds his husband's mouth with his, deep and hungry as both his hands now skim up Micah's sides slowly. “If we got y'worry free just now, I'd say we're doin' somethin' right, then.” Micah watches these movements and pulls Jax closer to him—gently to avoid causing more discomfort than necessary. The conveniently placed hand on the back of Jax's neck presses in, holding Jax tight to the kiss, eager and fervent in its reply. The belly rubbing hand sneaks under Jax's shirt to seek skin, nails curled in to scritch, as well. A shivery breath escapes Jax, fingers pressing firmer to Micah's sides. A fierce hot glow is lighting beneath his skin, muscles tensing taut under the scritching. "You kinda," he murmurs against his husband's mouth, "do a whole lotta /right/ by me." He breaks off long enough to slide his hands up, pushing Micah's shirt until he finally just tugs it off over the other man's head. "'n maybe once in a while," for once here this is simply teasing and not /guilty/, thumbs brushing against his husband's nipples, "I can do for you, too." Oh, there's another shuddery shiver with Jax's travelling fingers. The growing warmth of his husband's skin doesn't seem to deter him any, fingers travelling all across the expanse of Jax's stomach and flanks. His breath catches at that sweeping of thumbs. “Mmn. S'long as that's not gonna make anythin' intolerably painful for you in the process...” Jax’s kisses shift down, pressing along the side of Micah’s neck to travel down towards his collarbone. He presses the other man back against the windowseat, fingers squeezing in to pinch, gently, where they’d brushed before. “For you, I can tolerate a /whole/ awful lot.” The purr in his voice adds the implication: /gladly/. "I--" Something. That's as far as that sentence is going to proceed, cut off into soft-pleased nonverbal vocalisations as Micah's chin tips further and further back. His lips part again, presumably to speak, only to draw in a quick gasping breath as Jax's fingers press in. His arm around the other man tugs him closer. "Gettin' the feelin' we maybe need to move upstairs. Maybe now."