ArchivedLogs:Perfect
| Perfect | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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5 October 2013 Certain questions finally get asked. For real this time. ^_^ |
| Location
<XS> Danger Room – B2 | |
The room is large and circular, a geodesic hemisphere of hexagonal ceramic panels. It is the Danger Room, and is thus often full of danger, but is presently not in use and is thus remarkably danger-free. Safest room in the school, probably. Jax has not given Micah a whole lot of /explanation/ behind this trip out to the school. Just that they're having lunch in Westchester. Dress comfortably, he has something fun to show. He's packed lunch, dressed himself in black skinny jeans laced corset-like down their outsides, knee-high black boots, red 'All my heroes have FBI files' t-shirt, elbow length black fingerless fishnet gloves. Glittery red and smokey silver eyeshadow. Dusty silver glimmer on his lips. Once at the school he takes Micah downstairs -- past the floor with the medical bay to a part of the building he's likely never been in before. The elevator refuses to even go here without both his fingerprint and voice code (when it asks for /this/, the name he gives it is 'Little Miss Sunshine'); similarly, the door he briefly disappears into (leaving Micah in the hall) and reappears from very shortly only accepts the same as well. He has the basket full of lunch in the crook of his arm, a bright smile on his face as he stops outside the door beside it. "Y'ready?" Though he hasn't actually told Micah what he should be ready /for/. Given the utter lack of what to expect, Micah has dressed in layers. He wears a long-sleeved, emerald green button-down shirt dotted in a lighter-coloured leaf pattern over a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, his brownish newsboy cap, and black sneakers with neon green shoelaces. For similar reasons, he is currently wheelchair-equipped, though his bright orange forearm crutches are tucked into the bar in his seat back. He actually looks a little nervous as they slowly descend into the bowels of the very high-security school. “Hon. Are we havin' a picnic in a really secure basement for a reason? Did you finally make weapons-grade pastries? Should I be concerned?” His tone is, for the most part, playful. Mostly. "Yes. From what I gather this is actually real dangerous," Jackson says cheerfully, "pretty high likelihood of the world up an' endin' at any moment. We ain't picnicking in a real secure basement, though. We're havin' a picnic --" He thumbs open the door, opening it onto a very familiar console room, brightly lit by the circular lights along its ceiling and walls, a strange assortment of equipment in its central console. It does not /exactly/ mimic the TARDIS's console -- /almost/ exactly, save for the somewhat anachronistic feature of ramps being exchanged wherever there are stairs, its doorways all somewhat wider than would otherwise be necessary. "-- wherever an' whenever y'want to have one." “What in the world are y'gettin' on about, Jax?” Micah's brows loft in /tandem/, expression muddled somewhere between concern, confusion, and curiosity. The door opening only serves to increase this impression, though his eyes also widen considerably. “You...um...what? Your school has a model TARDIS in its basement.” He wheels up a bit and leans forward /almost/ enough for his head to pass through the door. But not quite certain enough to try it yet. “A model of the /inside/ of the TARDIS in its basement.” He sounds thoroughly baffled. "Not exactly. It's more like, um." Jackson stands behind Micah, leaning down top bop Micah lightly on the top of the head with his chin. "More like. Magic. Um. I mean, you can use it. It don't have to be the TARDIS I just -- though you'd. Like it." Though now he sounds abruptly uncertain, straightening with a worried scrape of teeth against lip, a restless shift of weight from one foot to the other. "Wait is this bad, maybe this is -- bad I should probably. Have. Told you first but I wanted to surprise -- I guess time travel is a bad surprise this ain't like baking your favourite cookies although I -- did. Bake. Your favourite cookies." Micah reaches behind him, taking Jax's hand to pull him around where he can see his face. He brings the claimed hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the inside of the wrist. “Jax-honey, this is.../not/ a bad surprise. This is a /wonderful/ surprise. It's just so...surprisin' that I don't even. Know. How.” He just shakes his head, eyes still wide, trying to /process/ what is going on. He tugs Jax closer for hugs. “It's overwhelmin', I don't even... We can...go in?” Again, he peeks into the room beyond. “Is it safe? I mean...no way this actually time travels, that would be insane.” "Yes. You can go in. And yes, it's almost perfectly safe it's -- probably actually the safest place on earth I know." Jax's fidgeting relaxes at this reassurance, his smile quick and bright. He leans in to the hug, squeezing Micah around the shoulders, a faint glow glimmering beneath his skin. "It don't time travel, no, but it -- feels like it does. It ain't no time machine although, um," his nose wrinkles. "there are people who /do/ time travel. I don't think no tech that does yet but if people do it's only a matter of time -- /er/. Anyway no it ain't a time machine and it ain't even a model TARDIS it's more like a --" His fingers snap. "Like Star Trek? An' they have a room that can be anything? It's like that." Micah's arms stay wrapped around Jax, his head nuzzling against the other man's chest and shoulder through the explanation. Suddenly, he pushes back to look up at Jax's face, his expression still full of incredulous excitement, but now tinged with a dawning understanding. “Jax. Your school...has a /holodeck/ in its basement. A holodeck with a /TARDIS/ in it. D'you... How do any of you ever get /anythin'/ else done /ever/?” With assurances of safety (or maybe just excessive quantities of /excite/), he tugs Jax into his lap for wheeling into the room immediately. "Holodeck, that's right. Yes. We have that. Right here. An' man you got no idea how many hours I've wasted --" Jackson blushes deeply. "I mean I kinda go to. Care-a-lot an' Fantastica an' places when I'm feelin' down let me tell you nothin' is as cheerin' as riding on a luckdragon." He curls an arm around Micah's neck, kissing the side of the other man's head as they wheel inside. "The kids don't have access without a teacher or else I'd've flunked straight outta high school." Another kiss, and then he gestures to the console. "So I mean. Where /would/ you like to picnic? Cuz this can do anywhere at all." "So this thing makes...places that aren't even real. Like cartoons an' everythin'." Micah returns the kisses eagerly, then brings them right up to the console. He skims his fingers along the edge but carefully avoids all the switches and gadgets there, not knowing what activating any such things would /do/. "Oh, wow, Jax, this is already so..." His head swivels around, taking in the busy surroundings. "Does it have t'be somethin' somebody already programmed? I mean, it would have to, wouldn't it?" "Sort of," Jackson says with a small shrug of one shoulder. He turns his head to look at the console curiously, though he doesn't actually touch any of them. "You program it with parameters. It's -- kind of freakishly good at extrapolating from there. I think its computers kinda got access to a whole litany of -- TV an' encyclopedias an' -- uh. Internet. I mean, we worked it up to be the TARDIS. It knows it's a time-space machine now. From there it tends to sorta fill in the blanks." He grins, tentatively reaching out to rest his hand against the console. "Who knows. Maybe it'll fill in wrong. Makes it sorta an adventure, don't it?" "So it just pulls things off a wide...collection of data. Ohgosh, you guys gave a powerful computer access t'the Internet an' the ability t'make whatever it wants. I think that might be the most dangerous part of this." Micah giggles, nuzzling against Jax's shoulder again. "Well, if we're goin' for places that are nice t'sit in for lunch. An' that y'couldn't really get to otherwise, 'cause that's kinda the point of a /magic room/... An' prob'ly ought t'choose somethin' that's just quiet an' really /pretty/. Could it pull up forests out of a Miyazaki movie? I mean, even just the ones from Totoro...are kind of like gorgeous Japanese mountains plus a touch of Wonderland. For sheer pretty." He smiles, tapping one of the chair's wheels. "An' if we're just sittin' anyhow, it won't matter that it's a bit difficult t'traverse." "Could. D'you want them made like real or do y'want to have lunch in a cartoon?" Jax's eyes flick up towards the ceiling for a moment. "Cuz the Danger Room can do it either way y'just kinda gotta adjust your brain for a moment when you step out into a world that's been drawn, it gives you a real strong sense of /weird/." Micah looks up as Jax does, giggling again at the warning considering just what they're looking at already. “Honey, I think /weird/ might be the sellin' point on this thing. Definitely the drawn versions. Because that just sounds...ridiculously amazin' an' impossible an'...not somethin' that would ever work anywhere else. I'll do my best not t'fall over on you,” he promises, wrapping his arms around Jax's midsection in a fond squeezy-hug. “D'you actually get there by throwin' all the levers'n doodads on the console? Please tell me that's how this works.” Jax returns to nuzzling, pressing a light kiss to Micah's neck. "Well. It'll listen if you just talk to it but it can throw all the levers an' press all the buttons an' it'll also take us to a Miyazaki forest. Go on." He taps fingers against the console, looking kind of excited himself, now. "Weird's pretty much the sellin' point on our whole school. But this might be the weirdest -- no," he decides, "second weirdest part'a it. Definitely high up on the weird-o-meter." "Really?" Micah's voice squeaks just a /little/ with his excitement. Jax gets yet /another/ hug, even tighter than the last. "Y'wanna go throw random levers, too? This works best with two people hittin' things in kind of a...slightly panicked and not really knowin' what you're doin' kind of way." He bounces a little in his seat. "Do I want t'know what gets t'be the weirdest part, or is it a secret?" "Kinda a secret," Jax admits, "-- Oh oh oh!" He returns the hug in a quick squeeze and then slides off Micah's lap, bouncing eagerly around to an opposite segment of console. He sets his picnic basket down next to where he stands. "I am /so good/ at panickin' if you need someone to panic I'm your guy oh gosh I don't know what to press what do I press." He presses something at random, and the whole room gives a small rumble. "... Uh oh is it supposed t'be doin' that?" Micah slides closer to the console, throwing the nearest lever and then hurriedly twisting a dial. "Yes, yes, it's s'posed t'do that! That's how y'know it's working! That an' the sound. The sound is /brilliant/." Giggling, he moves on to turn a crank that seems to have no purpose in its placement. He finally thinks to warn Jax about how this usually goes, seeing as he is less familiar with the routine. "Also, it may seem a little bit like everythin's gettin' ready t'fall apart, maybe, but that's perfectly normal, too. An' sometimes the ride gets a little bumpy." "Oh, oh. So long as it's supposed to be alarmin' /um/ though I still got no idea what --" Jax hits another button, flipping a switch and then letting out a small eep as the shaking gets worse. He throws himself flatter against the console, clinging to it with slightly wider eye. "Ohgosh no okay this is ok bumpy ride /is/ pretty much my normal ain't it?" There's a crooked smile on his face as he headbonks down against another large button at random. Micah is pretty much nonstop giggles by this point, picking up a handy rubber mallet and using it to hit a stuck...what is that thing, anyhow? "Perfectly standard operatin' procedures. Adds t'the excitement of travellin' through space-time. Ain't like that's an /easy/ thing t'do." He grabs hold of the console with one hand, gripping at one of his wheel's pushrims to keep from sliding backward at the room's jerking movements. "Micah is this a typewriter why is there a typewriter." Micah's giggling is infectious. Jax's fingers click against the keys, but then grabs the console again as he stumbles back at a particularly jerky bump. "I think it's gettin' worse does that mean we're almost there?" "Why /wouldn't/ there be a typewriter? Who doesn't love the clacky keys and the carriage return and the...they have a pretty good sound, too, don't they. Huh." After slamming his fist down on another button, Micah flips the brakes on both of his chair's wheels and grabs the console. "Yes, actually, that also means y'prob'ly wanna hold on tighter because it'll be real shaky when we get there. Y'know. So everyone knows we're there." He sounds /gleeful/ at the prospect, somehow. "Oh -- oh gosh umm couldn't this thing just. Make announcements --" Jax pulls down on a lever and then just holds fast to the console, rattled as the whole room's shaking ramps up higher and then finally comes to a bumpy stop. He doesn't let go, just yet, waiting a few long breaths before daring to straighten. "Oh. OK wow um sorry if lunch is slightly, um, tossed about." He doesn't actually sound like he's /fretting/ about this, at least, just amused. He picks up his basket and tentatively he moves away from the console. "Alright. Totoro. Forest. Let's go see what the world looks like in 2-D." He heads back towards the door they just came in from, drawing in a large breath before pulling the door open for Micah. “Where would be the fun in that?” Despite his brakes, Micah's chair still attempts to slide across the floor, stopped only by his grip on the console, at the shaky stop. His breath catches for a moment, then is released in a spill of laughter. “Better it get tossed about /before/ we eat it than after, all things considered,” he jokes before flipping the brakes again and following Jax to the door. “Ohgosh. Ohgosh. We just flew the TARDIS. Into an artist's rendering of fantasy-Japan. This is ridiculous an' I /kind of/ think I might be asleep. But I don't wanna test it 'cause then I might wake up an' we haven't even gotten t'go out yet.” "You should go out." Jackson sounds a little breathless as he looks at the spill of greenery outside, a path leading away from their door through the crooked tall trees beyond. "You -- should definitely go see this 'fore wakin' up, honey-honey. Oh --" For a moment he sounds impossibly charmed, "I think we're bein' watched." Micah parks the chair by the door, grabbing his crutches and pushing to his feet to follow Jax out of the police box door. The going may be slow, but feet are better than wheels on forest floors. “Definitely have t'see,” he agrees with a broadening smile, stepping tentatively out onto the path before standing in place to survey the surroundings. “Watched?” His eyes track to Jax for a moment, the better to follow his gaze. Jackson nods off into the trees, towards a rabbitlike pair of blue ears and wide eyes staring out of the hollow of a mossy old tree, flowers spilling out around its base. "Watched. S'kinda adorable though ain't he?" Jax hitches the picnic basket up into the crook of his arm, and turns in a slow circle -- behind them, the familiar blue police box stands among a vast deep forest, the sound of running water coming from somewhere nearby. "This is -- sort of perfect." "Oh!" Micah cries out softly, voice muted automatically in attempt not to /spook/ anything. "Oh, it even has the critters in, not just the scenery!" His weight shifts over one crutch to free the other hand up, crutch dangling from its cuff around his forearm, to cover his mouth lightly. "Oh, honey, it is...kinda...impossibly, beautifully perfect." His fingers trace along the back of Jax's arm before he has to place the crutch back on the ground for stability. "Where should we set up, d'you think?" "Yeah. Suits you." Jackson's head tilts, and he points a very short ways down the path to where it starts to bend. "I can hear water close by. We should -- water. S'somethin' so even-more-perfect 'bout runnin' water -- wait can you get more perfect than perfect?" He turns to kiss Micah's cheek lightly. "S'just a short walk, will that be aright?" Some back corner of Micah's brain has the presence to cue a blush, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Mmm, yes, water. Extra perfect? I think y'can do that. When y'think everythin' is just as perfect as it can be, an' it is, but then somethin' gets added an' it's perfect, /too/." He smiles, a lopsided sort of grin that brightens even more with the kiss. "I been walkin' more. Still slow about it, but gettin' longer distances. We're gonna be sittin' a bit when we get there, so I should be fine." His awed expression implies /more/ than fine, his eyes continuously darting off, distracted by the surroundings. "That's basically how I feel about most days if I'm in a good mood an' then I come home t'you." The path, though grassy, is at least largely smooth, unobstructed by the gnarled roots that thread knotty through the ground off of the path. Jackson walks slowly, perhaps out of consideration for Micah or perhaps just because he is spending so much time looking up and around, drinking in the drawn scenery around them. Just past the bend there /is/ a stream, the path curving to run alongside it. Shallow and filled with rounded pebbles, small neat stepping stones. Jackson stops by the side, moving just off the path to set his basket down in the grass just off the path. "I didn't bring a blanket," he says with a crinkle of his nose, "but I think cartoon grass is pretty comfortable anyhow." “Oh, hon...” Micah stops dead in his tracks at that comment, bonking his head against Jax's shoulder since his arms are entirely occupied. He just stands, biting at his lip for a moment before continuing on to catch up with the other man. “Somehow, I don't think the drawn-ground's too likely t'get us all dirty, anyhow. An' if there's bugs, they'll just be kinda adorable an' not crawlin' in the food.” He comes to a stop again, just on the other side of the basket from Jax, and frees his hands from the cuffs and grips of his crutches to hold along their shafts like balance poles. Very slowly, he lowers onto his left knee and down to the ground, setting the crutches aside once he has achieved a sitting position. "Clothes are washable anyhow." Jackson rests a hand at Micah's elbow as he switches his grip on the cuffs, absently supportive though most of his attention is on small fish swimming through the nearby stream. He stoops afterwards beside Micah, kneeling alongside the basket. "I mean it. Everything's -- better. With you in my life. I mean, the world's crazy, you know? But knowin' you're always there to come home to -- feels like I can handle whatever sorta crazy keeps gettin' pitched at us. And /you/ -- you came to a whole new city not hardly knowin' anyone to start -- this amazing company and you work so hard all the time and most all of it's for -- other people. You give so much'a yourself to everyone around you and that passion you have -- I want to be there, too. Helpin' you feel like you can get anywhere, too." Jax flips open the lid on the large wicker basket -- the rattling around in the TARDIS means that he has to /fish/ for the small box that was likely at one point set neatly on top, a sheepish grin and apologetic blush accompanying his digging. "You already snuck in an' became such an amazing part'a our family in all the ways that's important. I want you to be part of it forever." He opens the box; the ring inside is small and hand-crafted, links of silver forming a chain with a deep blue-black bead of glass set in its top whose small dusted swirl of glitter calls to mind the spiral of a galaxy. "Micah. Will you marry me?" Micah gives Jax an appreciative little smile at the steadying. His teeth press into his lower lip as the other man begins his talk, the colour in his cheeks deepening steadily with the liberally dosed praise. He looks like he might speak himself, a few times, but holds back to avoid interrupting. “Honey, you are too sweet, you're gonna make me cry,” he admits from behind fingertips pressed over his mouth, while Jax is busy digging through the basket. Once the search is successful, he quiets again, admittedly a little shiny about the eyes as he listens. “I love you so, so much.” He half-falls into, half-pulls Jax into a fierce hug, accompanied by a kiss of similar fervour. Then he remembers, reluctantly pulling back, that he was supposed to /answer/ that question. “Yes. Yes, of course yes.” Comes between a series of little kisses to the other man's lips and jawline. Jackson wraps his arms tight around Micah, returning the kiss deeply and then resting his head against Micah's forehead through this answer. "I love you." His hold remains, tight around Micah's shoulders for a long while before he remembers to pull back and actually take the ring /out/ of its box so that he can slip it onto Micah's finger. "I love you. I --" His smile stretches brighter, wider, eye skipping away to look around the forest. "It really is perfect." As he watches Jax slide the ring on his finger, his teeth catch his lower lip again. Then his eyes widen in sudden realisation. "Ohgosh. Ohgosh, that would've been terrible. I almost forgot." His hand fishes around in his pocket, detaching a small wooden box with an eyelet loop on one side, similar to a travel pillbox, that he had hooked to his keys. "What with havin' been carryin' this /everywhere/ for the past couple of weeks just t'make sure I'd definitely have it." He opens the box to withdraw the little ring that had been nestled inside, barely having fit against the light padding within. The band is simple, unadorned white gold. A small, faceted round schiller sunstone with spiralling planes of deep coppery-red inclusions is set at its centre. The copper inclusions catch the light in fiery sunbursts inside the stone when it is indirect and set off rainbow-kaleidoscope glittering when it is direct. The ring's setting is likewise simple, a flowing, radially-symmetrical pattern of short rays cradling the stone. Micah holds the ring between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, his other reaching out for Jax's hand with a questioning look. "Oh --" Jackson's breath catches, his eye widening. "Oh. Oh. I wasn't expectin' -- oh. Micah that's beautiful." This comes with another kiss, fierce, before /he/ pulls back with a blush. "Oh, right, I should -- right." He gives his hand to Micah, fingers slightly splayed and resting lightly against the other man's. There's a warm glow growing within him, flushing through to suffuse his skin with soft light. "The sun an' stars," he muses thoughtfully, looking down at the ring. "I think I got a new tattoo I need." "I know y'weren't, honey. Y'did all this plannin' an' cookin' an' the /proposin'/ an' everythin'. I...wanted t'give you somethin', too." Taking Jax's hand, Micah slides the ring on, brushing his lips lightly against his knuckles before releasing it. "You give me so much, an' put so much of yourself into everythin'. Every day." He pulls Jax close again for another hug, another earnest kiss. "Another tattoo?" he finally asks when he gives either of them a chance to breathe. "What's this one gonna be?" Jackson tips his head forward, burying his face for a moment against Micah's neck after the kiss. There's a bit of dampness left behind when he pulls back, his smile bright -- somewhat literally -- as well. His fingers curl in towards his palm, knuckles tipping upwards to examine the ring on them. "Hey I've got /so/ much blank space still left t'use! S'the point of all this great canvas if I don't fill it?" He is forced to cut down on the grinning /somewhat/ when he leans in to kiss Micah again. But then sits back, resting his hand on the open picnic basket. "Oh! Oh gosh I brung all this food look we're failin' at eating c'mon. The cookies have cayenne in -- oh right should probably start with the /real/ food. -- I'm sorry I'm gettin' sidetracked, um." He dips his head sheepishly. "I think I'm too happy to keep thoughts straight. C'mon. We should -- eat. Food." Micah's fingers pet at Jax's short-fuzzy flame hair as he nuzzles against him, content just to sit that way. “I'm not complainin',” he responds to Jax's tattoo defense, chuckling. “S'just like with the perfect. I keep thinkin' you're already the colourfullest, then y'go an' get more colourful.” His hand runs over the back of Jax's, pausing a moment so that he can look at the pair of hands with their pair of rings that...somehow seem to match, despite being so differently crafted with their designs so specifically and independently chosen. “I'm a distraction-brain on a normal day. I've no idea when the next time I'm gonna be able t'think in a straight line will be.” He's grinning as he says this, however, a bright, almost silly grin. “But we definitely should eat. A thing.” "You gave me a bit more colour still." Jax looks down at the ring on his finger, his smile goofily happy. Above them colours swirl, a glittering night-sky of constellations in which one colourful sunburst of star shines brighter than the rest. "S'alright. I don't do much'a anything straight." He steals one last kiss, then rocks back to sit down properly and start unpacking the food. "I guess now we can tell everyone. Ryan's gonna freak, I think marriage breaks some kinda unspoken queer anarchist pact. I gotta admit I never thought I'd -- but I'm. Kinda ridiculously happy right now." That comment has Micah turning a bit more colourful, as well, though only in darkening reds, as his smile broadens. The swirling colour display manages to draw his attention upward again. “Oh. Oh, hon, I thought it was about as pretty as it was gonna get in here, but look at that.” His laugh at Jax's silly-joke is cut off in another kiss, though Micah is clearly not complaining. “Right! Ohgosh, right. We can tell people now! I think there may be a fair amount of freakin' out. Mostly in a good way, prob'ly. But a lot of it.” He looks down at his hand again. “I wasn't...never completely sure what I wanted t'do, either. Exactly that, though.” He moves to help Jax with unpacking lunch. “Entirely too much happy just at the /thought/ for it t'be anythin' but a good idea.” | |
