ArchivedLogs:Late Dinner

Late Dinner
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jackson
In Absentia	27 December 2013 Jax comes home late. There is some dinner. (WARNING: Somewhere along the line an innuendo sneaked in, and then it didn't leave. >_>)
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. The striking of Pajama O'clock is a distant memory now that it is so late Friday night as arguably to be Saturday morning. Micah is sprawled out on the couch, appropriately clad in a blue henley shirt over pajama pants covered with tiny TARDISes tumbling through space, reading. Well, trying to read. Or giving up on reading. His e-reader is now sandwiched between his chest and a black cat who is quite happily /roosting/ atop it. Sprite has her nose set up a few centimetres from Micah's and is purring loudly with a very self-satisfied grin on her face. Micah's attempts to make grumpyface at this are only able to stand up for so long before his fingers seem to /appear/ of their own accord beneath the cat's chin. Making some scritches. The door opens, quietly. Jackson looks pale, a little shaky, a little run-down, though this has been pretty much his normal state by the end of workdays that take place largely in the dark hours of the day. He closes the door, stops to shed boots and layers of outerwear by the door, and continues on inside in marbled red-and-black skinny jeans, brightly mismatched socks, a long bell-sleeved black shirt with his red 'All my heroes have FBI files' t-shirt and rainbow hoodie over them. No makeup, anymore. He pads across the floor once he has pared down his layers, not interrupting Spritepettings but kneeling down on the floor beside the couch to press a soft kiss to Micah's temple. Micah turns to slip his fingers under Jax's chin instead (earning him one of those /death-glares/ from the cat), tilting his face to better meet lips to lips for a soft, slow kiss. "Hey, honey," he finally greets afterward with a small smile. "Want I should turn on the sun lamps? There's takeout in the fridge just waitin' for reheatin', too. Chinese. Oh, or tea? /And/ tea?" He leans in to press his forehead to Jax's in a gentle lean. Jax's skin is cool to Micah's touch -- at least as compared to his usual state, which is to say, hovering around 98 degrees. He returns the kiss, soft at first but with an increasing hunger before he pulls away. His eyes close as his forehead sags back against Micah's. "Oh. Oh. Sunlamps and Chinese and tea." He sounds rather pleased about /all/ these things, leaning in against Micah for a brief moment longer before pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. "Ohgosh I wouldn't want t'dislodge Her Royal Highness there. Y'want tea?" "Nonono. She's already earned her gettin'-in-the-way points for the evenin' when she decided that she needed /both/ my chest /and/ my book for her throne. You sit. I'll fetch." Micah scoops Sprite up (earning him one of those /indignant/ glares from the cat), leading Jax to take his seat on the couch and depositing Sprite in his lap if he's amenable. He /may/ take advantage of Jax's wobbliness to get him into a sitting position. Once he's on his feet and his hands relieved of cat-shaped burden, e-reader abandoned to the coffee table, he quickly makes his way to the sunlamps, switching them on high and aiming them at the couch before retreating to the kitchen. "What kinda tea?" "Readin' something good?" Jackson doesn't protest the guidance, sitting down -- /slumping/ down, really, in contrast to his usual upright dancer's posture. A smile plays on his lips as his head drops back against the cushions, and he is happy to dispense scritches once he has a lapcat. "Oh -- oh. Um. Luci gave us a bunch for -- holidays. Maybe one of his. I think there was a -- rooibos. With orange and cranberry. That sounds kinda like a nice nighttime tea." He turns his head reflexively towards the sunlamps, posture shifting just slightly towards the light. "How was your day, honey-honey?" “S'a collection of short stories. Get t'feel like I'm actually finishin' things that way.” Micah grins at that, setting the teapot on to heat and digging through the tea cabinet for the requested variety. “Lessee. There's still some of the rice, scallion pancakes, edamame, kung pao tofu, garlic bok choy, an' veggie lo mein. I managed t'save /some/ of the eggplant for you, but there's less of it than the others,” he admits with a sheepish sort of grin. “Y'want some of all of it, or just somethin' in particular?” His back is conveniently turned to the living room as he rifles around in the refrigerator before he answers the last question. “It was...kinda a long day. Better once I was able t'get home...have some tea, food, a shower, time with the kids. Y'know how it is.” "Oh -- oh that all sounds." Jax drags his teeth over his lip. "Some'a everything I think. I will finish the /heck/ outta probably /all/ the tofu though I -- pretty much -- more'n spent myself today, it was --" For a moment he frowns. His fingers scritch a little harder against Sprite's jaw. "What happened? Those are all -- real excellent things after a long day," he agrees with an easier smile. "Kinda regret gettin' home so late, I miss out on a lotta that last." Micah sets up two sauce pans and a tiny frying pan on the remaining burners to get things started reheating, then pulls down a pair of mugs for tea and a deep bowl for Jax to eat out of. “Just...kinda hectic an' drainin'. Don't bear re-hashin' the details. Y'had a lotta protesters t'deal with again?” The first of the potato pancakes goes into the frying pan, rice and tofu into each of the sauce pans. “D'we need t'get you some stronger lights t'wear? Maybe they can set you up some sunlamps for when you're inside?” He frowns down at the sizzling pancake, waiting with a spatula to flip it. “It's hard when work keeps you away from family time, I know.” "Oh, gosh, the protesters were -- actually not my problem today I was on Io-duty not. Clinic-duty but." He closes his eye, one hand resting lightly against Sprite's side to feel her rumbling purr. "Actually had our first honest-to-goodness assassination attempt today." He says this rather lightly, something almost amused in his voice though there's a greater tension in his expression at this. "It's like, ninety-nine percent'a the time we feel like overkill like, gosh, maybe Io's just real /paranoid/ -- actually okay no it's /Jane/ who's crazy-paranoid but. Then." He shrugs a shoulder. "Noooow suddenly remember why I'm paid for this." He turns his head back towards Micah. "Yeah. It's -- I always kinda feel like I ain't --" He shakes his head quickly, dispelling whatever thought this was to just look Micah over instead. "Draining? Once I got some food in me, you want a massage?" Micah takes the whistling teapot off its burner, filling the prepared mugs and setting a timer on his phone before placing another sauce pan, starting the edamame reheating in a little water. He stirs the other two pans and flips the pancake. “Oh/gosh/. Somebody actually tried t'kill Io? What happened? Is everybody okay?” Having pans going on all the burners is the only thing that keeps him from returning to the living room at that news. “Ask me again after we get y'fed an' warmed up an' not shakin' anymore,” he answers regarding the massage. "Yeah. Shooter. Was waitin' for him when we was headin' out to grab dinner. Everyone's fine," Jax reassures Micah, "I mean -- gosh. Io's shook up as anything I'd guess, s'one thing knowin' in /theory/ that this could happen an' another entire thing entire to have it happen for /real/. But he's safe and he's home now an' Jane's probably not lettin' him outta her sight for longer'n it takes him to pee. If that. But he's /fine/. Physically." His nose wrinkles up. "... one'a the other guards already started a scoreboard in our break room not ten minutes after. How many times y'done save Io's life." His hand lifts from Sprite to scrub through his hair, eye still fixed on Micah. "Okay. I /will/ though. Might be nice if y'had a stressful day an' /I/ sure ain't gonna be complaining about putting my hands all over you." When the pancake is done, Micah scoops it up on the spatula...and realises he has nowhere to put it. He goes up on tiptoes to retrieve a small dessert plate and slips it on from there, setting up a second pancake in the pan. "Ohgosh. That sounds really stressful. Feel like I should send 'im...a box of cookies or somethin'. Silly little unexpected happy thing t'help offset the unexpected...terrible-awful thing." Some of the rice finds its way from the pan into the waiting bowl, the rest of it going back into its storage container to use as a serving dish. The pan is refilled with bok choy and returned to its burner. This process is repeated to dish up some of the tofu and refill its pan with lo mein. "Mmm...I ain't complainin' about it, either. Just wanna make sure you're back in order 'fore I start takin' advantage of you." This last is said with amusement and the sort of grin that implies it to be more of a good thing than a concern. "Yeah I was actually thinkin' of cookin' him somethin' nice an' bringing it to shift tomorrow. I can't imag -- well." Jax's nose wrinkles, hand scrubbing against his cheek. "I guess in a little way I can really." He gives another quick shake of his head, green hair tumbling down into his eye. His smile spreads quick again after this, though. "Oh, gosh. I think I would like you takin' advantage of me pretty much all night long. Y'don't got an early mornin', do you? Because the massage is just a warm up. Get you nice an' ready for takin' /full/ advantage." “I think he'd appreciate that. What shift y'workin' t'morrow?” Micah dishes out some edamame and turns off the burner, moving the empty pot to the sink to cool with some water in. He flips the other pancake in its pan. “Hmm...not /too/ early a mornin'. Got /some/ hours scheduled at the shop, but not 'til well after it's actually light out for once.” He blushes at Jax's more obvious innuendo, though his grin only widens. “Sounds like an excellent kinda plan for a late night.” The bok choy and lo mein both get another stir before Micah's phone alarm goes off. He removes the tea balls from the mugs and empties them, also placing them in the sink. “Agave?” "Second again." Jackson says this with a good deal of regret, glancing over towards Spencer's closed bedroom door. "I'll be so glad when s'summer again an' I can have some shifts with some /daylight/ in." The skip of his gaze over Micah has a definite hunger to it, likely not for the copious amounts of food the other man is reheating. "Mmm -- I don't know," he waffles on the question of agave. "It feel like a sweet kinda night to you?" Micah's nose crinkles at the report of Jax's shift for Saturday. “Mmn. That's too bad. 'Least it'll give y'some Saturday mornin' time with the kids, though?” His cheeks redden at Jax's question, the nose crinkle disappearing into grinning once more as he pulls the agave out and spills a rather generous quantity into the cup. He simply arches a brow at Jax as he returns it to the cabinet, moving back to the stove to flip the second pancake out onto a plate. The last few bites of eggplant get tipped into the frying pan for a few moments' reheating. He spoons out some of the bok choy and lo mein before moving those empty pans to the sink, then starts in on the dishes that have already cooled. "Bit'a time in the morning, 'fore I gotta head down to the studio. Maybe I'll make everyone a nice brunch. Jax curls a leg up underneath him, which makes Sprite shift irritably in protest and then resettle. "Oh, gosh," /his/ cheeks redden now, though his smile doesn't fade. "/That/ weren't even an innuendo I was jus' indecisive about my sugarin'. -- Wait, did you just /make/ it an innuendo? With your /eyebrows/?" "Oh, that sounds nice. We don't get t'have everybody t'gether for meals often enough." Micah's blush deepens, though he manages not to giggle by sheer force of will, rather lofting a single brow as the only reply to Jax's question of innuendo. The cooled pots washed and settled into the drying rack, he returns to the stove, scooping the eggplant from the last pan into Jax's bowl. Once the stove is off and the final pan retired to the sink, he brings both mugs of tea into the living room, followed by the plate of scallions pancakes and bowl of food with a pair of chopsticks laid across the top. The other warmed food remains lined up along the countertop in its containers, waiting buffet-style to be accessed for seconds if needed. Micah hands the bowl to Jax before taking a seat next to him on the couch. He scoots in close. Jax does not resist giggles, though he does muffle his with a fist pressed to his lips, his cheeks furiously red still. "Oh. Ohgosh." He picks Sprite up to set her on the floor despite her mewl of protest and immediate attempt to climb /back/ into his lap; a gentle nudge with his toe manages to deter this long enough for her to stalk off elsewhere. Lap freed, he is now at liberty to hook one of his legs over Micah's once the other man sits beside him. "Thank you, honey-honey." He pecks Micah on the cheek and pauses to say a small prayer over his food before picking up the chopsticks. He doesn't /immediately/ take a bite, though, nuzzling against Micah's neck instead. "Though now I don't even know which I want t'taste first." His nose crinkles up in a wider grin as he clarifies straight after in a mock-whisper: "That was a innuendo, too." Micah watches Sprite's fussing and exiting in a little cat /huff/ with some amusement, though his smile doesn't /truly/ bloom until Jax hooks him in. “'Welcome, sugar,” he returns, leaning /just/ a little heavily on the pet name. Innuendo, indeed. He does finally chuckle at Jax's whispered clarification, his fingertips sketching along the inside of the other man's thigh, so conveniently placed over his own. “Thanks, darlin', I don't think I would've caught that otherwise,” he teases. Jax's head tips down, hair spilling back into his eye as he starts to eat. Fairly ravenously, for all he just claimed to not know where to start. His smile warms at the pet name, and he pauses briefly in his food-inhaling to bonk his forehead lightly against Micah's shoulder. "S'me, I'm a helper," he answers Micah with cheerful amusement. "I just don't like t'leave any ambiguity, y'know? Though mmm I guess innuendo is just kinda /teasin'/ and teasing's always ambiguous." He gives this some small consideration with his next bite of food, but then swallows, tongue slipping out to wet his lips as Micah's fingers trail up his leg. "Oh-h-h," he breathes out, soft and shivery. "Gettin' a little less ambiguous." Micah watches Jax eat, enjoying the other man's enjoyment of the food. “Oh, yes, always /such/ a good boy,” he plays back, scruffing at Jax's hair with the headbonk. His other hand sketches upward from Jax's knee again. A little slower. A little higher. “Oh, what, this?” he asks, a little wide-eyed, tone a little too innocent. “Wouldn't wanna be accused of teasin' too much. Too much ambiguity, just confuses folks, really.” "Mhmm. /Always/, sir." It is proving difficult to actually /eat/ with so much grinning. Jax has to make a rather concerted effort to school his giggles long enough to continue eating his food. There's a good deal of relish in his eating though his tiny hungry moan probably has more to do with the upward trace of Micah's hand than with his bok choy. He shivers, leg shifting a little higher against Micah's. "In class what I teach folks is -- for clear an' unambiguous --" His eye slips closed, hand pausing for a moment with chopsticks laden with food. "/Enthusiastic/," he half breathes out. "Enthusiastic consent. No -- ambiguity. No confusin'." Micah's smile has somewhat of a different flavour from Jax's, no giggling, though clearly amused. His eyes stay locked on the other man's face. “I don't think there'll be any concern for lack of enthusiasm.” His fingers trail down again, their return trip brushing right to the crux of leg and hip with the increased travelling space provided by Jax's shifting. “I mean, you /are/ enjoyin' your meal, aren't you?” "I'm --" Jackson hesitates, but only heartbeat. He leans forward to set the bowl down on the coffee table, resting chopsticks atop it, and turns in towards Micah. His hand slides around the back of Micah's neck, his abrupt kiss deep and fierce. It only breaks off when he needs to draw in a deep breath. "... I'm enjoyin'." The smile broadens at the brief hesitation, at the hand on his neck. Then it presses against Jax's lips at the sudden kiss, returning it with equal hunger. “Good,” Micah replies, the words slightly breathier. Though his eyes track slow and sidewise to the not-yet-empty bowl on the table, the small plate of scallion pancakes beside it. “Though if you're full-up /already/...” His hand on Jax's leg pulls away slightly, apparently teasing not getting left behind just yet. A small warm flutter of light brightens the air around Jax, briefly. It's brief, shimmering there for just a moment before vanishing. Jax's leg presses slightly forward when Micah's hand pulls slightly back. "Full up?" His head shakes, his mouth pressing to Micah's again, briefer this time but fiercer. "Never. 'Round you, sir, I'm /always/ hungry." The brightening light earns an equally bright smile from Micah, with clear pleasure at Jax's...recharging. His hand presses back where it is met, sliding up again more firmly. “Mmm, good news for me, then.” He steals another kiss before glancing at the unfinished food with more of an appraising look. “Though, y'should eat /actual/ food if you're not yet done with that, too,” he concedes. “I'm quite capable of just bein' a...pleasant distraction a few minutes more.” Jax's cheeks flush red again. "... sometimes I'm real, um." His gaze drops down for a moment, and almost reluctantly he leans forward to reclaim his food bowl. "Distractable. But oh /gosh/ are you ever a pleasant distraction. Sometimes," he confides, "I look at you an' it's like I. Forgotten how to --" He hesitates, here, mulling over his words through another couple quick bites of food. "... everything," is what he finally finishes, not teasing anymore, just soft and almost shy. "Like whatever I was doin' or. Sayin' or thinkin' it just flies straight outta my head an' for a second I forgotten everything except for loving you." His nose crinkles up, cheeks brilliantly red, still. "... or wantin' you," he easily acknowledges at the end of this, leg hooking Micah's just a little bit closer. Micah leans in to deliver a series of nibbling kisses to Jax's earlobe and neck as the other man resumes eating. "I love you, too, hon. An' waitin' is pretty hard," he purrs this last as Jax's leg pulls him harder. His hand moves up Jax's thigh again, this time cupping against the front of his jeans, just resting over the zipper. "Though if y'need t'work on not bein' distracted so easy, ain't nothin' sayin' /I/ can't move on t'dessert while you're finishin' dinner. Since I ate /hours/ ago." His fingers pinch the pull tab, just gripping it and tugging a little before starting to slide it down slowly, small audible clicks sounding as each set of tiny teeth part. "Just need t'make sure y'clean your plate."