ArchivedLogs:Placebo Effect

Placebo Effect
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Steve	2016-07-06 "I certainly got my fair share of fireworks, and more."
Location <NYC> {Workhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The relentless heat of the day has finally produced some thunderstorms, though even after sunset the rains only make for a /wet/ and sweltering evening. Coming in out of the downpour, Steve's t-shirt (heather red with a yellow star on the chest) and blue jeans are perhaps not as soaked as one might expect. He sheds his combat boots and socks at the door. His blond hair is sticking up in jagged spikes, dripping water down into his eyes. Waves, but says nothing as he pads into the living room, his posture tense and his gait a touch jerky. Dusk is sprawled on the couch, shirtless, a red white and blue tie-dyed sarong tied somewhat haphazardly around his hips. There's a very large set of headphones covering his ears, rings of lights in them glowing in shifting pulsing colours -- rhythmically, presumably in time with whatever music they are playing. He has his laptop on his lap, though he sets it aside as Steve enters, brows quirking upward at the other man. 'Look like you could do with some tea.' 'Please,' Steve signs, not slowing down, continuing to the bathroom, though he does not linger there long. Returns a moment later with a towel which he rubs vigorously over his head before draping across his shoulders. Drops down onto the couch. Pale blue eyes follow Dusk's movement intently enough, though they look a little glazed all the same. Dusk gets up, plucking his headphones off to leave them on the couch. He saunters over to start a kettle boiling, getting out a pair of mugs and a steeper. "You look -- about like how Cat did by the end of all the fireworks Monday. Maybe a little more wet, a little less poofy. {What's up, man?}" Steve shakes his head slowly. "Well, I certainly got my fair share of fireworks, and more." Perhaps it takes him a while to realize that he hasn't actually /answered/ Dusk's question, or perhaps he's just deciding /how/ to answer it, if he wants to at all. At length, though, reluctantly, "I've had a bit of a rough week." He seems to gather himself. Grips the ends of the towel tight. "{How are you?}" "You mean you weren't just brimful with patriotism? That wasn't like second frakking Christmas for you? Don't tell the media." Dusk leans up against the counter, eying the stove and then Steve. "... seriously, though, you look like hell. Can I get you anything -- uh. Besides tea." Steve gives a quiet huff that sounds more like the wind being punched out of him than the laugh that it was probably meant to be. "I won't tell if you don't." He frowns lightly, pats his hair with the towel again. "I just...I don't know." The kettle drones, a low quiet hum of whistle. Dusk leans forward to switch the stove off before filling the steeper, carrying it and the empty mugs over to set them down on coasters on the table. He settles back down beside Steve as he sets a timer on his phone. One wing curls out, wrapping around Steve's shoulders. "S'alright. You don't have to know. Just -- looked shook up. I was --" His opposite shoulder shrugs. "Worried." Steve leans into Dusk's wing, turning his face in against the soft fuzz there. "I'm not --" He sighs quietly. "Jax broke up with me. I haven't seen him in over a week and...I'm worried about /him/ but I'm hardly in a position to offer any support." He sinks against the other man more heavily. "And I miss him. So damned much." Dusk's eyes widen at this news. His wing tightens around Steve's shoulder, head turning to the side to press a kiss to the top of the other man's head. "{I'm sorry. He didn't mention -- I just thought he...}" He trails off, shaking his head. "Should put some booze in that tea, maybe." "I think...it was really difficult for him." Steve closes his eyes. Nuzzles harder into the fold of the wing wrapped around him. "Maybe. Won't work, but there's something to be said for the placebo effect." "Do you want it to work?" Dusk's question is quiet, pensive. He leans forward to decant the tea into the mugs, leaving the steeper atop the second mug. "I mean, I could probably -- help, if you don't. Mind a little bleeding. Not that you need to -- I mean I'm not trying to --" He shakes his head quickly, a small flush in his cheeks. "I just wish I could help." Steve doesn't answer at once. Watches Dusk pour the tea. His eyes flick up to the other man's face. "Yeah, and..." He chuckles dryly. "...no, I don't mind bleeding." He stretches out a hand, touches knuckles to Dusk's cheek where it burns warm. "I can't tell you if it'll help. But I'm pretty sure /you/ can." Dusk turns his head, scratchy-rough cheek brushing in against Steve's hand. His wing pulls tighter, bringing Steve in closer against him. "Then I will."