ArchivedLogs:On Belay

On Belay
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jax, Dusk	13 June 2014 Building and climbing.
Location <NYC> Candyland - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The stairs lead up into a landing hall, bright as well with a set of bay windows and a wide cushion-strewn ledge beneath them at its far end. To the right of the landing the first doorway opens into the bathroom, warmly coloured in yellows and reds and sandy tiles; its large bathtub-shower also holds a mosaic on one wall, strange fire-creatures and manticores echoed in the small fiery faeries sprinkled at sporadic intervals around the rest of the room. Past the bathroom on the right-hand side is a smaller door into a linen closet before the actual door into Spencer's bedroom. Spencer's sturdy furniture set has been designed with rambunctious children in mind, most of its structure climbable with a loft-bed connected by a short tunnel to an also-lofted reading nook with a sliding door to turn it into its own private cave; the desk and dresser sit beneath the bed and there is a shelving unit beneath the platform that serves also as steps up into it. A slide down off the bed falls down into large squishy beanbag and the whole of the structure has been designed and painted reminiscent of a spaceship, a theme echoed in the way the closet doors have been painted to look like the TARDIS. There are soft sounds of a power bit driver whirring from Spencer's room upstairs as Micah checks all of the screws and bolts to make sure they are fully tightened. Now and then there is a tapping as matching wooden plugs are fitted over top to hide away said screws and bolts. Things are pretty much /in place/ in Spence's room for now, at least as far as hardware is concerned. Linens still need to find their way to the bed and window dressings to the window, actual possessions and decorations still need to fill the space. But the major furniture and fixtures are all very /colourfully/ and rather science fiction inspiredly in place. "We need to build remote controlled /droids/ once we're done with furniture for the rest of the house. Like, for trash cans an' storage bins an'...just some robots 'cause /robots/. Think that'll be a fun project over the summer. Get Spence involved in it. Maybe recruit B, too." He drags the back of a wrist over his forehead to get his beyond-messy hair out of his eyes. His outfit matches for slovenliness, T-shirt and jeans liberally splattered in paint and other assorted stains. Jax has mostly now just been an extra pair of hands to help where he is instructed; he's dusty and messy as Micah, now, in similarly paint-splattered sleeveless undershirt and jeans. "Ohgosh. Robots? I don't think I'll be much help with no robots. But B could probably make you a robot trash can that'd sort your trash /for/ you an' take itself out when s'full. I --" His cheeks flush, head shaking as he takes a step back to look over their handiwork. "Oh, gosh. Oh /gosh/ that's -- d'you want some tea, I think you've earned yourself some tea." Downstairs there's a quiet turn of handle, a door opening. The soft pad of bare feet, a little hesitant before Dusk's voice calls up the stairs. "H'lo? You guys are home right?" "Hee, honey, I didn't expect you'd be helpin' much, 'less y'wanted t'/learn/ 'bout robotics some. Figure the three of us got it handled otherwise." After the last plug is tapped in, Micah steps back to check over things on the big picture level, as well. "Mmn, I think that's done for now. Should...sweep an' dust things out an' put in the sheets an' curtains an' rugs but...not right now." He sighs, leaning back against a doorframe. "Is it tea an' snacks time? I'll definitely do tea an' snacks." There is a somewhat-exhausted perk at Dusk's voice travelling up from the ground floor. "Hey, hon, we're up here!" he calls back. "Oh -- there jus' -- there was a /we/ in there an' I." Jax's cheeks darken further, his fingers trailing against a shelf. "I don't think I could learn 'bout robotics if I /wanted/ to. Oh sweepin' I'll -- grab the broom an' go put tea up meanwhile." He's starting towards the door when Dusk's voice sounds, and stops just out in the hall, hesitating before heading down the stairs. "Hey, sweetie. Micah's upstairs d'you want tea?" Downstairs, Dusk is much as he ever is. Black corduroys hanging low on his hips to scuff against the floor, wings wrapped around himself, a sharp pallor to his expression. There's a box in his hands that he hugs close to his chest; it's almost as an afterthought that he offers it towards Jax. "No thanks, I don't need. tea." He pulls the package back against his chest without actually handing it /over/ to start slowly up the stairs, explaining, "-- I was picking up my -- you had a package. I forgot to bring it. Earlier." He sticks close to the wall to let Jax pass, setting the box down at the top of the stairs but continuing in to poke his head into Spence's bedroom. His eyes widen at the finished furniture. "Holy shit." Micah removes the bit from his driver and returns it to its set, gathering the rest of the tools into the tool box sitting open on the floor. He closes the box and latches it before standing to follow after Jax. "Hon, I said /eventually/. As in we need a break right now an' the last bits of tidyin' an' puttin' in the fabric things can happen t'morrow mornin' maybe." He is standing quite close to the door when Dusk peeks in, barely any movement needed to reach for a hug. "Hi, sugar. We're gonna have tea an' snacks since we finally finished gettin' all this put in." "Or eventually like once tea is done," Jax calls back before he glances up at Dusk's back and then disappears off towards the kitchen, stopping first to scrub his hands clean before he starts preparing tea. "Tea and -- oh. I'm not --" Dusk shakes his head, wings shifting around him. "Not hungry." He doesn't move into the hug, just wrapping his wings tighter around himself; his eye slips over Micah's neck and then down to the floor. "It's really looking amazing in here. I should pay you guys to make /my/ bed. Are you seriously going to make all your furniture, that's ambitious." "S'utterly mule-headed," Micah mutters half to himself and half to Dusk. The hug proceeds so long as Dusk doesn't seem to be moving /away/, though it may be less tight-squeezy than usual when it isn't returned. He brushes a kiss to the other man's cheek before releasing him, but stays close. "We'll prob'ly buy beanbags an' a couch for the livin' room. But the dressers an' desks an' tables an' chairs an' such, yeah. Should be able t'do. Been buildin' the shelves into the walls already. The rest'll be easier once the shop's set up here an' I don't hafta run stuff back with me t'the school when it needs more'n what's in m'van by way of tools." He looks Dusk over with some concern. "Sure we'd make a bed for you. Might be a bit of a wait's all. But y'can buy whatever mattress y'wanna put in it an' just have it on the floor meanwhile." Finally, he reaches for Dusk's hand. "Honey, what's goin' on with you? When's the last time you ate?" "Is kind of stubborn," Dusk agrees with a small crooked smile. "Also /maybe/ a little compulsive about cleaning." In the hug he tenses faintly, eyes closing; he draws in a deep breath, leaning up against the doorframe once Micah releases him. "Hive said that'd be done next, um. Next week. Though I don't know if that's done like construction or done like all its -- tools and equipment and stuff will be delivered by then, too." One wing hitches up in a small shrug. His brow furrows, and he looks slowly down to Micah's hand against his with a faint puzzled expression. His fingers twitch slightly, though he doesn't return Micah's grip; his skin is cool against the other man's. "Going on? I ate -- I don't know. I eat. Hive brought me soup..." He trails off uncertainly, eyes still fixed down on Micah's arm. "I have a mattress. It's big. I didn't get a bed for it though." "Don't never take enough breaks when he's doin' anythin'. Gotta force 'im t'slow down an' eat an' drink an' all." Micah's thumb pets over the back of Dusk's hand, the concerned expression moving on into /worried/ at the chill there. "That's...well, that's /good/, but it ain't precisely what I meant. Hive an' Flicker are worried. Said that Flicker's been bringin' your packets from the Clinic but you ain't eatin' 'em. An' y'ain't been feedin' from nobody that I know of, neither. Worried 'bout you. It ain't good for you." "You should see him on raids, he's --" A faint flush dusts Dusk's cheeks, gaze still locked down on Micah's hand. "Those packets are gross," he answers Micah with a small wrinkle of his nose. "And I shouldn't --" His head shakes, hair falling down over his eyes. "You worry too much." "Just 'cause I worry a lot don't mean I'm wrong. It /ain't/ good for you. You're starvin' yourself again." Micah's hand stays wrapped around Dusk's. "Think of 'em like medicine. We been through this before. An' you were /usin'/ 'em when y'needed before." One brow quirks upward at the aborted sentence. "Shouldn't what?" Dusk's hand finally curls back agains Micah's, long fingers stretching out to press fingertips lightly to the inside of Micah's wrist. "Shouldn't --" His head shakes quickly. "I'll be fine. I just don't want to -- I'll be fine." 'Sorry,' he signs after this. 'I just --' "-- came here to. Because I had your package. Or Jax's. Are you all staying here tonight?" "I don't understand..." Micah begins, then leaves off with a headshake of his own. "I just love you. An' I /miss/ you. An' I want things t'be...better. For you." His eyes skim down to Dusk's fingers against his arm. "We could. Very well might. Spence was beggin' t'spend the night over the twins' place." Jax slips back up the stairs, a large square plate in his hands with a pair of tea mugs balanced on it and three slices of chocolate-marbled banana bread. His teeth are pressed against his lip and he moves very /carefully/ so as not to spill the drinks, moving to set them down on the window seat just past Spencer's room at the end of the hall. "There's a lavender mint an' a orange rooibos -- Dusk-honey are you /sure/ you don't want nothin' I brung an extra slice'a banana bread just in case. An' m'fair sure Spence is gonna be fine where he is we should -- jus' head out t'the school in the mornin' t'pick up our stuff an'. Be here for /real/." "I don't -- expect you to understand, you don't. It's just not easy, I keep feeling like I'm going to -- I don't want to hurt --" Dusk quiets as Jax reappears, dropping Micah's hand and looking to the plate instead. "Here for real. That sounds pretty -- great. I've missed you, too." And, softer, "Things /are/ better. Better than they -- were. I just don't know if they're ever getting. /All/ better." "But you're /not/. You haven't. I've been with you. An' you've fed from Shane at least... Y'think any of that would've happened if I were really worried y'were gonna do anythin' worth worryin' over? An' /I'm/ the one as worries too much." Micah gives Dusk's hand a slight squeeze. "'Sides the fact that there ain't no hurtin' the packets. If the rest of it's spookin' you for now." His hand moves to fuss at the fabric of his pants leg when Dusk releases it. "Oh, thanks, honey. That all sounds delicious." He shrugs slightly regarding Dusk again. "Don't never gotta be perfect. Just...want it t'keep gettin' better's all. I know some things take time. Just don't want you t'keep...beatin' yourself up over things as weren't really your fault." Jax's head bows, slightly. He picks up a mug in either hand, moving closer to offer the lavender mint to Micah. He holds the other one out towards Dusk, head staying bowed but eye lifting towards the other man's face. "Y'should sit. Relax for a bit. Maybe let yourself see ain't nothin' bad happening. Only jus' spendin' some quiet time together. Nothin' that's gotta be stressful or worryin'." "But I might," Dusk answers Micah, softly. "Every time I'm around you guys -- every time I'm around /anyone/ I'm always just thinking of how much --" A small growl rumbles in his throat. "And it was my fault. I was a monster." He eyes the tea Jax offers almost suspiciously, but eventually reaches to cup his hands around it. And move to take a careful seat on the window-bench, wings shifting slowly as he sits. Micah nods agreement with Jax's suggestion. "It might /help/ if y'weren't starvin' all the time. Gonna start turnin' into one of those cartoons seein' everybody as walkin' roast turkeys an' whatnot /never/ eatin' like y'should." He takes the tea with a murmured thanks, fingertips brushing against Jax's as he collects the cup. "/Not/ your fault. Y'weren't /you/. Y'were at a...tortured an' painful an' broken place. That was /their/ fault, not yours." Though his voice remains soft, his words are firm in the belief behind them. A smile flits across Jax's face at the brush of Micah's fingers. He moves over towards the window seat, though he doesn't sit on it, kneeling on the floor in front of it instead and reaching to take a slice of banana bread. "You ain't never been no monster, honey-honey. You was hurtin' bad. I think you're still hurtin' bad. But we want to help y'past that. Here. With your family. Where it's safe." Dusk's tongue flicks out to wet his lips, his posture shifting into something of a crouch on the bench so he can adjust his wings more comfortably. He looks down into the tea, brows still furrowed. A very small crooked twitch of smile pulls at his mouth. "I think I'm half there already," he admits. "More. Steak than turkey. Just juicy and --" His cheeks flush, fingers curling a little tighter at the mug. "Barely hear anyone talk sometimes for how loud your hearts are all beating." The smile fades from his lips, his grip shifting on the mug to avoid its heat, one hand dropping as the other curls more carefully through its handle. His wing shifts, to. Slow and tentative. Curling downward very, very slowly to brush against Jax's back. "Well, it's just harder to anthropomorphise cartoon steaks. Ain't got limbs like whole turkeys. An' seein' cartoon cows just ain't got the same effect." Micah's worried expression brightens into a playful lopsided grin. "Oh. Apologies for that, that's just us. Bleedin' heart carin' 'bout everybody too hard. Side effects." He reaches out to trace his fingertips lightly along Dusk's shoulder, inviting him to follow before moving to sit behind Jax, actually /on/ the seat. Jax shivers, gently leaning back into the touch of Dusk's wing. His head turns to the side, cheek nuzzling up against the soft fuzz, though he groans at Micah's comment about bleeding hearts. He scoots a little bit forward once Micah has sat, shifting so that he can still snuggle into the large wing while resting the side of his head against Micah's knee. "Cartoon cows'd prob'ly have the same effect on the pups. Not sure about on Dusk. Cartoon cows jus' make /me/ want t'hug them." "You want to hug everything," Dusk accuses, a small trace of amusement creeping back into his tone. He slides over closer to Micah, wing curling further to squeeze gently against Jax's back. "And the twins want to /eat/ everything. These aren't really fair tests you're both outliers." The amusement fades, expression shifting more serious as he looks down into his mug. "You all do care about everyone. Way too hard. I've never deserved --" His fangs scrape against his lower lip, breath exhaled slowly. "I just -- thank you. I think I'd have been pretty -- lost. A lot of times." Micah's giggle is only the tiniest bit sheepish at Jax's groan. He pets his fingers across his husband's scalp. "'Deserved' nothin'. Deserve bein' loved an' cared about way more'n been locked up an' abused, but y'had enough of /that/, too." He beckons Dusk in for a hug. "Love you, hon. You've had a lotta hard times t'get through. Just means folks as love you should be there for you." Jax's head tips down, a small purr rumbling through him at /all/ the petting as he starts to eat his banana bread. "Sweetie, you say that like we're doin' something extraordinary but I think there's plenty'a times with /all/'a us when we woulda been lost without each other. Bein' there's just kinda what you /do/ for people you love. In the good times /and/ the rough ones. And we've all done had our share of /rough/ ones and /you/ ain't never been one to abandon your family jus' cuz things is rocky, either. I ain't hardly knowed a person with as much passion as you got for everyone in your life." Dusk flushes darker, the red contrasting sharp with his pallor. He sets down his mug on the bench beside the plate of bread, shifting his other wing to wrap it around Micah, too. His head tips forward, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against Micah's shoulder; his wing rubs slowly at Jax's back. "Love you," he whispers, soft against Micah's neck. "It's just. Kind of felt lately like the /rocky/ times is -- I've always seen a way to climb /out/ before, you know? These days I feel like it's all I can do just to -- cling to where I am and not fall any /further/." "Mmhm. Alla us've had some real rough spots t'get through, even just...in the past year. Much less talkin' anythin' 'fore that. We're here for you. We /want/ t'be here for you. Ain't no trouble or no chore. Love you, sugar." Micah sets his mug down, as well, freeing up his hand to pet through Dusk's thick mass of hair. "Clingin's fine. At the risk of over-extendin' the metaphor...we're here t'help keep y'from fallin'. An' give you a hand up when y'feel safe enough t'move again." Jax scarfs down the rest of his bread in a few quick bites, licking at his fingertips before lifting his hand to pet the backs of his knuckles against Dusk's wing. His smile up towards the others is quick and crooked, pre-emptive blush darkening his cheeks a little sheepishly though that doesn't stop /him/ from plowing ahead with cheerfully dragging the metaphor out. "Pfft, fall? You'll be aright. You got us on belay."