ArchivedLogs:Hermanitos

Hermanitos
Dramatis Personae Ion, Kay, Sebastian, Shane	2013-12-08 '
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It's brisk outside today, snowy and grey and though little has yet /accumulated/ it's wet and slushy all through the city. Shane seems little bothered by the weather, out on a playground in the park in warm cap and mittens, heavy wool peacoat, scarf, warm boots. He's perched himself on a swing, though he's not swinging, just sitting and eating. One of his mittens has been pulled off so that he can pick up his food -- buffalo chicken wings, a very /large/ bucket of them that he's devouring, dropping the spent bones into a paper bag. His brother /is/ swinging. Sebastian is identically dressed except that his coat is puffy and blue. He's probably contributed to his fair share of chicken eating but right now -- swing! Higher and higher. "{... might try to kill him again,}" Shane is saying in almost /offhand/ Vietnamese. "{We could kill him first. Maybe he died! /Lots/ of people died. He might,}" Sebastian answers, "{have been eaten.}" "{He might.}" Shane perks at this. "{He was there, wasn't he? With Dusk and everyone. Maybe he was one of the first to zombie.}" BRRRRRMMmh-mh-mh-mh-VRBRRRRRMMMM! It's never a consistent roar, the acceleration and deceleration of a motorcycle rounding corners in a city. The broad empty New York streets are slowly growing back their supply of vehicle traffic, though spare and ripe with brave cab drivers and desperate delivery men. It makes a fantastic obstacle course for a pair of bikers - the return to normalcy requires a /bit/ more caution on the streets again, and the MMMC has once more gone incognito. Kay's helmet, sunglasses, black leather coat - a very /expensive/ black leather, genuine article with shiny V-style side zipper and shit-kicker steel toe boots - all go without the favored kutte or MMMC logo. But for the moment, he doesn't seem bothered - leaning far forward over the handles, he takes a turn so fast the bike slides a few feet sideways, standing at an acute angle to the ground, before he accelerates to rocket, cackling, towards the park. Vrooming down the slushy streets alongside Kay, Ion is also dressed in /style/, at least as much so as he ever is, similarly swank leather jacket and expensive tall boots. He speeds around the corner past Kay, and actually does a loop /around/ the park -- partly for fun, perhaps, and partly to scope it out and make sure no policemen are standing around to preemptively ruin his /fun/ -- before barrelling straight /into/ it. The roar of cycle grows closer and he pulls his black-and-chrome Harley up right by the gates of the playground. "{Oy, little sharks.}" His greeting is called loud; you can practically hear the grin in his voice although his helmet obscures his expression. "{Maybe.}" Sebastian doesn't exactly sound hopeful, but he does sound thoughtful. With a habituated city-tolerance for traffic noises, at first he ignores the sound of the motorcycles -- but when the noise speeds up around and then /into/ the park he drops his boots down to the mulch, eyes widening and tracking in on the motion. There's a reflexive tension to his posture that only breaks at the /greeting/, relaxing again and reaching over to nab another wing from Shane's bucket. "{Get some /satisfaction/ braining that one. The rest I always just feel sad but -- oh shit, zombie with Noxpowers, that would have gotten ugly.} {-- Eyy, Lightning rod.}" Shane switches fluidly between Vietnamese and Spanish, though he moves through a similar tense-then-relax phase as the cycles approach and then are identified. "{Come here. Got chicken.}" Like a strategic maneuver, Kay reflects Ion's orbit of the park to the opposite side, so that they circle like, well. Very loud /sharks/. His approach comes from the opposite side as Ion, moving in, in tandem. Have you /surrounded/. "{Chicken}. That's - uff! - chicken right?" Kay kills his motor and vaults /over/ the little fence encircling the playground and, in hops up to catch onto the top bar of the swing set (it /reverberates/ with the sudden weight) to set himself swinging /between/ the sharkboys, radiant with warmth like a low-banked hearthfire. "What's the Blues Brothers up to heh?" "{Ay, yes, chicken is} chicken." Ion leaves his bike parked alongside the fence by Kay's, hopping the fence too and strolling straight over to shed his gloves and grab a wing. "{You got that --}" His fingers snap. "What's that sauce. White. Creamy. Need it on this meat." He makes a dipping motion with his buffalo wing. Shane /snorts/ at this, and while there /is/ a tub of blue cheese dressing in the lid of his container he instead reaches to grab at his crotch with his mittened hand. "I got all the sauce your meat will ever need." Sebastian just flushes deep purple, and kind of leans slightly in towards Kay, basking in the radiant heat. "Our apartment is covered in reporters," he explains shyly, gesturing across the park to where several news vans are parked outside the Lofts, "We went for brunch and came back and -- reporters. Not really up for heckling yet." "Yeaaaah, your dad's made the news again." Kay drops back to his feet, "Guess it's a little late for him to start using a pseudonym whenever he goes about saving the day." He twines a forearm around Sebastian's swing chain to lean on it, giving him easier access to bodyheat, "Y'know I used t'have one. Back in Nevada. Ion. Quesochicken me." Aaaaaah. He opens his mouth AT Ion, showing off two rings of stained teeth. There's one or two missing in the back. "S'dad's made the news again?" This shows exactly how much Ion has been paying attention to news; his eyes skip over towards the Lofts with a raise of eyebrows. "Was /wondering/ what is that shit about, what's he done now? Heroing about?" He BAPS Shane on the spiky head for this vulgarity, though he's snorting laughter as he does so. He shoves his gloves into a jacket pocket, dunking his wing into sauce and grabbing a second. To also dunk. And then shove it into Kay's open mouth. "You want I go heckle the reporters /for/ you? Clear up a path, no?" "He wasn't even, that's the fucking hell of it," Shane says with a trace of bafflement. "I mean yeah he killed some zombies but who the hell didn't? And the rest of the team --" "-- did so much more towards the cure than he did," Sebastian continues. "And I guess he /was/ protecting them but --" "-- uh, he's a fucking /guard/. Like the Clinic /pays/ him to do just that. As a fucking /job/. The news --" "-- makes it sound like it was a really big deal." Sebastian shakes his head here, his brows slightly furrowed. "And no you don't have to --" But Shane is cutting in here: "Ohshit can you Emperor fucking Palpatine the reporters?" Sebastian crinkles up his nose. "/That'd/ be great news." He tips his head back to look up at Kay. "What was it?" "Frag." Kay's smile isn't wistful - it's hard, toothy, his eyes locked on the news vans clustered up outside the Lofts. "It was short for Fragarach. Sword of Manannan mac Lir - called The Answerer. And the /Retaliator/." HOMPH. He sinks his teeth into the chicken bite Ion holds out for him and /wrests/ it into his own possession, shaking it like he intends to break its nonexistent chickenwing... neck. He pulls it form his mouth and adds, "Old news. Dif' time. Briar was'a last person to call me that." CHEW. He uses a hip idly to send Shane's swing into a lazy sideways rock, "You go, I will." Casually commented to Ion. Adding casually, "Rey'd be pissed." "That sounds really goddamn Irish, gringo." Ion tears at his chicken hungrily, licking sauce off his lips. "Wouldn't that be nice." He /does/ sound a little wistful, looking across the park at the reporters. "Don't expect it would do your family no favors though, yeah? To have a mutant Palpatineing the reporters while they wait for their story. -- So you're saying, no heroics? Why they want to make it sound like heroics, then? Media has not exactly /loved/ us lately." "Are you Irish?" Shane eyes Kay appraisingly. He digs out another chicken wing, ignoring the blue cheese dressing and just eating it plain. Sebastian doesn't hold much truck with the dressing either. Chomp chomp chomp. "I don't know. He definitely doesn't /like/ it, it's kind of -- really weird? And uncomfortable." "Having so many fucking /eyes/ poking into our business," Shane agrees with a shudder. "I'd say /frag/ 'em but shiiiit yeah that'd be a hell we don't need." "Yeah," Sebastian agrees with a small wrinkle of his nose and a small dip of his head. "I think we're probably supposed to be on our best behavior." "/Hell/ no, not me. You shoulda seen our old /prez/, though," Kay has his eyebrows hiked /way/ up at Ion, to make an intensely sincere TRUE-STORY face, "Ginger as fuck, one of those," he gestures in front of his chin, "Big Honest-Abe beards. Fuckin' corncob pipe, all he needed was a giant green hat and he'd have looked like a giant mother-fucking Leprechaun." He stoops for a second dip of sauce, "Eh, 'heroics' is just a word people like. News people never did give a lot of shits - you do something good or you do something bad, if it's big enough, people wanna hear about it. Who knows, maybe pretend /their/ lives are big by knowing." He side-glances at Shane, "I ask you somethin?" "Yah, and if it's mutants doing a thing, the news will jump it that much quicker." Ion finishes cleaning meat from his bone, dropping the bone into the paper bag and then stealing a second. "Is a loooot of scrutiny, I'd guess. But you're good kids, si? You are worried?" "Naaah, I'm not worried I just, shit, look at us." Shane waves a half-eaten wing towards himself and Bastian. "We're freaks," Sebastian says with a crooked smile. "We have to be twice as good to get maybe half the leeway." "And it makes my dads uncomfortable, you know?" Shane shrugs a shoulder, resting his head against the swing chain now to /also/ lean in closer to Ion. "Like, having people constantly prying, it's -- weird. And also kind of dangerous?" Sebastian frowns. "Last time there were death threats." "A /lot/ of death threats. And an attempt." Shane scowls, but the scowl disappears as he looks up at Kay. "You got a smoke for me, you can ask me /any/-damn-thing you like, I'm fresh out." "Better kids'n I was," Kay agrees with Ion, reaching into an inner pocket of his jacket to pull out his box of smokes. He must not TRUST you Shane, because he's pulling the first one out for /himself/, tucking it into the side of his mouth and then handing the box to... Sebastian, actually. Share-share alike. "You bangin' either your pa's?" Asked /while/ lighting his smoke off a crackling flame manifest in the cup of his hand. "/That's/ not a tall bar, hermano." Ion's teeth flash bright. But he puts that grin away at the next question, leaning against a pole of the swingset to chew more slowly on his chicken wing. Sebastian takes the box of smokes, a little /bemused/ with it in his hand. He immediately turns it over to Shane instead. Shane taps a cigarette out, /sticking/ it in Bastian's lips for him and taking another for himself before returning the box. Bastian doesn't look any less bemused at this. But that bemusement quickly turns to shock at Kay's question; his enormous eyes shoot open wide and his mouth falls open, spilling the cigarette down towards the mulch though unthinkingly his hand snaps out lightning-quick to /catch/ it. "Wh --" Shane's brows raise at the question, and /his/ teeth bare in a sharp-sharp grin. "What, why, you interested? I mean, shit, they're both hot as fucking --" "/Shane/," Sebastian kind of hisses, looking slightly horrified. And in Vietnamese: "{You aren't supposed to be /saying/ things like that.}" Shane grimaces, rubbing his knuckles to his eye and leaning over towards Kay to light his cigarette. "Dude he brought it up first!" "You wish," Kay cups a long-fingered, burn-calloused hand in front of Shane's face like a strange flower, blossoming a coil of flame for him to light on. He glances at Ion, and Sebastian, though it's hard to see much of his face behind his sunglasses. His mouth isn't specifically frowning or smiling, pouched out on one side and full of chicken. "Clearin' something up." "S'okay, niño," Ion assures Sebastian with a quick shake of his head. "We brought it up, you can speak easy." Sebastian looks /distinctly/ uncomfortable at this. His fingers clasp at the chain of his swing, his eyes dropping. "But Ba said --" He frowns, deep. Shane glances sideways to his brother, then up to Kay. He draws in a slow drag of cigarette, blowing a stream of smoke out towards the sky. "Pfft," he gives in flip answer. "Man I /wish/. You seen the muscles on my Pa?" "Shane, that's exactly what you're not supposed to --" Sebastian's gills flutter rapidly, his uncomfortable fidgeting growing. "{Sorry,}" he says in Spanish, "He's not -- mnnh. We shouldn't -- we should maybe go." Kay has taken to leaning further on Shane's swing than Sebastian's, clearly making no rush to stop them if they /choose/ to leave. Though his sunglassed face is turned down towards Shane's face still. "That's a no?" "So you /want/ to fuck your dad." Ion's brow has creased. He leans forward to take Sebastian's unsmoked cigarette from him, leaning in towards Kay with a beckoning expression. "... Dads." "It's a no," Sebastian agrees, /firmly/, "he just --" "Well hell yeah I want to, jeez, wouldn't you? But they're both like --" Shane waves his hand kind of dismissively. "Uptight about it I used to think they thought I was ugly but Ba says it's just wrong?" He shrugs, also dismissive as he takes a drag of cigarette. "{Sorry,}" Sebastian whispers again, clearly mortified. "Our dads would never -- it's not like that." His cheeks are furiously purple. "It's a weird -- place, you know? Because we didn't grow up here. Only been with them a couple years so --" He looks down at the mulch. "Yeah. Why're you asking? Ba says I shouldn't --" Shane exhales another cloud of smoke. "Say shit like that I want to fuck my dad because people get squicked. But it's not like he's my /real/ dad --" "No, yeah, they are," Sebastian corrects, mortification easing into, for a moment, a soft and genuinely happy smile. "Shiiiiit, yeah, they fucking /are/." Shane grins suddenly fiercely up at the other two. "Adoption papers all signed yesterday. Their marriage too. S'like a /real/ fucking family now." "One sec-," Kay ignores the conversation for a half second, forms BOTH of his hands into a sphere, like he's gripping an invisible basketball, and makes a FWOOMING flame in their midst like a miniature inferno. Right in front of Ion's FACE. To light off of. THERE. Now then, "Okay so -- wait, really?" His smile is oddly /grim/, not unhappy but weathered for this last news, and he expands his long arms to form his palm into a set of parenthesis, either twin's face the footnote text contained within them, his hands /warm/ (and smelling, to a sensitive nose, slightly of a very light fresh burn). And he says with a /rasp/, "/Good/. You're /good/ fucking kids." His grinning teeth make this /fiercely/ a fact. Only secondary, once his forearm drops down to rest on his knee idly does he snort, "Uh. Yeah. It'd squick out a lotta people, dude. To parents," there's a blankness in his face, even with bared teeth, "their kids're always their /children/. You don't try'n diddle /Spence/ do you?" "Gaaaah," Ion successfully lights his cigarette but also singes his /face/, patting at it quickly afterwards where eyebrows have sizzled. He exhales a slow breath, shaking his head. "{Tss, boy, by blood or by choice your parents are your parents. It squicks people because that's not what parents are /for/. They take care of you. You listen to them, yeah? You treat them with /respect/ and they protect you.}" He draws in a breath of his cigarette, frowning off towards the newsvans in the distance. "And," drops back into English, "you watch your fucking mouth, boy, because you give the wrong impression to the wrong person," his cigarette waves off towards the Lofts, "and you have no idea the world of hell you could invite." "What, no." Sebastian gives Kay a horrified look. "Dude, that's sick." Shane frowns at Kay. "My dads are /adults/, Spence is just a kid." His grimace deepens. "I'd fucking /gut/ anyone --" "-- who touched him," Sebastian agrees. He listens to Ion's Spanish with the faintly puzzled expression of someone only half-following, but when Ion drops back to English his expression drops back into uncomfortable. He looks off towards the news vans, too. Shane follows the others' gazes there. His frown deepens. "Ffffuck," he hisses out. "I don't -- fuck." His head bonks down against the chain of the swing once more. "They're trying to -- fuck. Teach me. What's okay and not okay -- shit. I don't want. I wouldn't ever fucking want -- my dads are the best things that ever fucking happened to us." His gills flutter restlessly, putting an odd rippling shift in the scarf around his neck. "And I /do/ fucking respect them, I'm just --" His shoulder shrugs twitchily. "Bad at it." "Yeah. And guys?" Kay raises his eyebrows, "To your dads? There ain't a fucking difference between you two or how they feel about /Spence/. Ain't that difficult to figure out if y'look at it that way. Five years, fifteen years, fifty years. You're their kids. That's how they're /supposed/ to treat you. For /life/. You can hug your lil bro all you want, hell, kiss his little deviled face. But if you, or /Jax/, or Micah or /anyone/ put their god damn tongue in his mouth? They'd BURN. But you gotta think, man. To us?" He jerks a thumb back and forth between himself and Ion, "/You/ two're the little brothers. And if your parent's weren't /treating/ you like a parents s'pposed to treat a kid, we'd have a /problem/ with that. People don't get squicked 'cause they don't like you. They get squicked because they /do/." Ion waggles his cigarette towards Kay at that last line. "{Yeah, smallsharks, we didn't come here to /reprimand/ you.} We come because some bastard puts the hurt on you, they gonna have some /very/ angry family to deal with, yeah?" He beckons towards the chicken again. "Come now, any that left? I still got a hunger." He glances back towards the news vans. "Ey, you want a ride? Dodge that crowd some small-bit longer?" Sebastian tenses up at the talk of Spencer, an unhappy grimace twisting his face. Shane's eyes just widen, at the last sentence Kay says more than anything. His mouth opens into a silent o. His gills flutter faster, clear inner eyelids sliding shut. "Oh --" He breathes this out a little stunned, unthinkingly offering the bucket forward to offer Ion one of the last two wings. "I always just --" His brow wrinkles slowly. The tiny smile that quirks at his mouth is crooked and uncertain. "... thanks." Sebastian regards Shane thoughtfully, through this. Then the older men. His teeth scrape against his lip, but he refrains from further input until: "Ohmygosh." His face lights at the offer. "/Yeah/ that'd be awesome!" Shane's smile evens out, grows a little brighter. "Yeah? For real? Lemme text my Pa or he'll think the news crews abducted us." "Hell YEAH for real," Kay grins at Shane around the filter gripped in his TEETH, "I call THIS one." He announces patting a hand down on the side of Sebastian's leg and then rotating. "/Get on/, we'll go for a fuckin' /ride/." He looks, for a moment, to grimly meet Ion's eyes. And lets out a deep breath through lungs that open wide. And then /deflate/ with relief. Ion /snags/ the last wings. Both of them. He takes a /chomp/ and grins bright and huge and exhilarated at Kay through teeth that still grip torn-off chicken in them. "Come now, Thing One, you are with me." Wing in his teeth, arm slinging over Shane's shoulders, he drags the boy off his swing and OUT. Probably to buzz past the reporters before disappearing into the rest of the city.