ArchivedLogs:Setting Boundaries

Setting Boundaries
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Trib
In Absentia	14 August 2014 TRIGGER WARNING: Descriptions of violence, abuse.
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. On the left-hand side the first door leads into the master bedroom, bright-lit not just from its huge windows and skylight but from a rather exorbitant overabundance of lamps. It's colourful in here, the hand-crafted wood furniture (king bed against the left-hand wall, pair of small nightstands to either side of it, a pair of dressers flanking the closet on the right, a large desk with a multitude of drawers and shelves along the back) cheerfully painted, the walls home to plentiful artwork, brightly coloured glass figurines scattered around the shelves and stained-glass suncatchers hanging in the windows. One set of windows leads out onto a balcony, stretching out to share with the guest bedroom adjacent; it's set up for /lounging/, a large hammock at one side, a pair of hanging net chairs flanking the table on the other. Next to the master bedroom is the smaller guest bedroom, sunny-yellow and furnished with queen bed, dresser, a small desk of its own; doors here lead out into the balcony as well. At the end of the hallway shortly before the window nook, a hatch in the ceiling drops down a rope-ladder that leads up into the tiny attic-space; not so much a proper /floor/ as it is a sloped-ceiling nook of space beneath the roof, it nevertheless has its own circular window and skylights and rather than left unfinished it's been furnished with beanbag and folded futon-mattress and a tiny low table with drawers tucked beneath it. There is dinner underway downstairs as evening creeps in, filling the house with the rich spicy smells of chana -- there is okra chopped up and /ready/ to fry but the chickpeas need a good long while of simmering to proper tenderness. In the interim Jax has abandoned the food turned down to low on the stove, retreating back to upstairs where he is out on the balcony, curled up in one of the net chairs. He has his sketchpad in his lap, fingers charcoal-smudged from shading the sketch he is working on, the pups stalking on all fours through a forest composed of strange twisted metal-and-stained-glass trees, their prey a huge shadowy beast off in the distance. Jax is in purple capris embroidered with dragonflies, no shoes, no shirt, a fierce warm glow bright around him and the balcony intermittently growing stained-glass trees of its own. There is a series of soft sounds from the lower level of the house, keys and locks, doors opening and closing gently, bags and shoes deposited on the ground, assorted watery sounds from a visit to the bathroom. Eventually footfalls travel up the stairs and down the hall, here and there, before finding Jax in his hiding spot. Micah settles on the floor by Jax's seat, leaning in to rest his late in the day mussed head against an arm. His work clothes look a little rumpled, the typical TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis though a touch splattered with stray specks of plaster. Jax's charcoal-smudged hand drops from the page to run fingers through Micah's hair, fingertips pressing firm against the other man's scalp. "Hey, love. Long day?" His nails scritch slow against Micah's head. "S'channa an' okra on for supper." “Mmhm.” Micah nuzzles up into his husband's touch. “That sounds nice. How've you been?” He pets a hand idly along Jax's leg, eyes falling all but closed and movements slow, nearly sleepy. "Noah done come by today. Um, the Georgia boy who was. Lookin' for his folks? Jim done found them." Jax sets down his pencil, both hands moving now, rubbing at Micah's head still as his other hand moves to the back of his husband's back to massage there. "Alive an' well upstate. Was nearabout cryin' he was so happy. Kinda -- refreshin' havin' good news t'deliver for once." “I remember.” A faint touch of smile crosses Micah's lips. “Mmn.” The lean back into Jax's hands is very nearly a /fall/. “Is nice t'have good news for once. Glad for 'im. An' them. S'everythin' okay that they're still up here an' weren't able t'contact 'im?” Jax actually giggles, here, quiet and brief but definitely a laugh; he hasn't had very /many/ of those in the past weeks. "Honestly t'hear him talk I wouldn't be surprised if they'd just sorta. Um. I don't know, forgot how technology works -- sounds like he was raised kinda jus'. Out in the /wilds/ practically. Backwoods'a Georgia get /pretty/ backwoods. They're teachin', though. Givin' kinda -- survival lessons? Help folks handle apocalypses better. Bet there's a whole lotta folks could use 'em after this fall. He's drivin' up in the mornin', he -- kinda asked if I would. Keep him comp'ny on the ride up?" This sounds tentative. His fingers work a little deeper into Micah's muscles. “Ohgosh. Give the poor boy a heart attack for want of a telephone,” Micah observes with a chuff of laughter. “S'that somethin' y'wanna do? Or that y'think y'can do?” His posture melts under Jax's hands, shoulders sagging and dropping forward, head not bothering with staying fully upright anymore. "I think it'd be nice," Jax admits, very softly. "S'way up in the mountains. Get away from the city, get some -- /trees/, some sky, some. I think it'd be. Good." He quiets after this, for a short while just focusing on kneading at Micah's shoulders before he leans down to kiss the other man on the top of the head. "Y'want to move t'the bed, I can do this /proper/." "That's good. That's good, right? Y'gonna go?" Micah's tone teeters somewhere between concerned and hopeful. His eyes finally /do/ close at the kiss, faint smile returning. "Don't think I'm right likely t'/argue/ that much. Though it involves gettin' back up an' that's a touch of a challenge just this minute." "I -- it's good. I think. I think it'd be good." Jax presses another kiss to the top of Micah's head, resting there against the other man for a moment. "Mmm. I'll /carry/ you when y'want t'move, then." His hands return to their kneading, firm and warm where his fingers slide under Micah's collar. He works at this a bit in silence, the strange tree-sculptures around them fading into just glowing silhouettes and then nothing at all. "-- Micah?" His voice sounds tentative again. "Excellent. It'll be nice, you gettin' out." Micah sits quietly, the only movement a subtle upward and downward shifting with his deep breathing. "M'not /that/ little. Y'ain't gotta be carryin' me. I'll go but prob'ly gonna need you t'tell me when or inertia's gonna keep me right here." His breath sighs out a little louder, more heavily as Jax's hands return. "Yeah?" Jax's fingers curl inward, nails lightly scritching against Micah's skin. His thumbs run up against the side of Micah's neck as the light around him fades off to a dimmer glow. "Would you. Tell me? I mean, if I. If there was somethin' that I was doin' that..." He trails off, still sounding kind of uncertain, words picked hesitantly. "I don't never want t'hurt you, you know." The sigh shifts easily into a soft purr as nails join in the petting. This cuts off abruptly at the line of questioning, Micah's eyebrows trying to loft and knit at the same time, which doesn't really...work. “Why would y'think y'were hurtin' me, honey?” "I don't," Jax clarifies hastily, blushing deeply. "I just. When we was talkin' t'B yesterday I -- she weren't. /Wrong/ an' I. I worry 'cuz what if I /did/ an' you jus'. Put up with it 'cuz you -- love me. I wouldn't never want y'to --" He shakes his head, nails tracing down against the back of Micah's neck as he bends to kiss Micah's head once more. "An' you said. That it happened before an' --" He shakes his head, hands sliding forward to curl around Micah's shoulders and wrap him in a tight hug from behind. “Okay. Good, 'cause you're not. You don't.” Despite his earlier protestations, Micah shifts within the hug and turns so that he is facing the other man, eyes turned up to him. “If y'were doin' somethin' that was problematic, I'd /tell/ you. The real...the real problem's more when y'tell someone there's a problem but they don't think it's a problem? An' they're good at convincin' you t'their way of seein' things.” One shoulder lifts and falls again in a semblance of a shrug, his words becoming progressively more mumbled. “I don't think you'd do that. An' I'm... That was a long time ago.” Jax slides down out of the net of his chair, curling in against Micah with his arms tightening and his face nuzzling briefly against his husband's neck. He pulls back, his eye meeting Micah's. "Okay. Okay, I just. I love you a whole awful lot. An' I -- I didn't even /know/ that you -- I mean I never /asked/ but there's so much. Things I don't know an' I /want/ to -- not that I want you t'have to talk about horrible things," he amends, flustered and stumbling in his words, "I jus' want to know about /you/. Know how to -- not. Be..." His cheeks are flushed dark, his brow rumpled. "... can I ask what happened? You don't. Gotta say. If you don't. Want." Micah's arms wrap loosely around Jax, just lingering there even after the other man pulls away. "I love you, too, sugar. I don't.../have/ secrets from you. I mean, there's things I haven't told you but it don't mean y'don't get t'ask. Or that I'm not willin' t'tell 'em. Just that...y'never did seem too curious 'bout my past relationships, an' really didn't talk much 'bout yours 'less I asked, so I assumed y'weren't interested in hearin' all that. I mean, I know some folks actively /don't/ wanna...not that I'd think y'were, it's just. Not somethin' I thought t'bring up on my own. I guess." Shades of red layer on across his cheeks as he fumbles in the explanation or lack thereof. "Dani... Was m'first real serious relationship out of high school. I was still seventeen, she was a couple years older. Moved way too fast pretty much from the start. The way college campuses work, weren't nothin' co-ed actually but we all-but-officially ended up livin' t'gether within a month. I'd had m'last limb revision over the summer before an' was still in a chair some of the time at first, so I had an accessible room, an' those're all set up single-occupant, so weren't no roommates t'complain, y'know?" He pauses, collecting thoughts or just trying not to dump a whole long story on Jax at once. "I know, I didn't. Think it was like you was -- keepin' secrets or nothin' I jus'. Didn't want t'push if you wasn't comfortable --" Jax's head drops briefly to rest on Micah's shoulder. "An' it ain't that I don't want t'hear -- I /do/. I want t'hear everything. I want t'know 'bout you. I jus' -- I don't always know what --" He trails off, quieting as Micah explains. He rocks slightly back, kneeling and sitting on his heels. His nose crinkles slightly at the 'living together within a month', but he just nods when Micah pauses, reaching to slip his hand into his husband's. When Jax's head settles on his shoulder, Micah reaches a hand up to pet at his scalp and the back of his neck. He pulls a bit of a face at Jax's nose crinkling. "I know. There's a lot of young an' stupid in this. We were exercisin' the full force of teenage decision making skills on this one. But... I was crazy in love with her. She was this firebrand, feisty kinda passionate, workin' on goin' t'law school eventually t'do /family/ law. She came from this huge family, few marriages an' divorces involved. Mom kinda...made not the best choices in guys as a rule. Some of 'em were abusive t'ward her mom an' her an' her siblin's. An' she wanted t'be able t'do good for kids in bad family situations from that. Always set on not bein' like her mom an' just takin' the terrible an' lettin' things happen to her kids." Micah pauses to swallow hard. "Things were really good at first, especially b'fore we made any formal limits t'the relationship? Was just kinda natural. But then we had all those talks 'bout how things're gonna work and exclusivity an' decided at first that we didn't need that, which is kinda my default answer. But as soon as that was a decision, she kinda lost it the first time I so much as looked at another person. An' we had a talk an' changed the plan since she needed me t'be exclusive. An' it was good she recognised that in herself an' I /can/ do the whole monogamy thing if someone wants me to. She didn't ask 'bout...her side of that an' I honestly didn't care, so. We ended up with this odd kinda...exclusivity on my part but not on hers. Another bad choice." Jax lifts Micah's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his husband's knuckles. He keeps Micah's hand there, resting his cheek against it though his eyes stay tipped towards the other man's face. "Mngh. That kinda lopsided don't sound like a recipe for nothin' great. I mean -- I don't know s'kinda how Dai and Shane are but. S'different when s'by choice mebbe." “Oh, certainly it's somethin' that /can/ work. If it's really what both people want. Also, it helps if the person askin' the other t'be exclusive has a better grip of just how jealous they are an'...maybe is a little better at bein' trustin'.” Micah's free hand rakes through his hair. “It was...kinda insidious at first. The new things that turned into bein' angry an' complaints an' fights even sometimes. I just don't think she b'lieved that I or...I dunno, maybe /anybody/ was capable of bein' faithful t'her. Started small with not wantin' me 'round /certain/ other girls on my own. Then it was pretty much all girls. It was this...slowly isolatin' thing. I think she was never really entirely okay with me bein' bi either. 'Cause it got t'the point that she couldn't handle me bein' 'round nobody /ever/. Got even worse with bein' 'round guys once she got insecure 'bout...like there's somethin' in bi people that won't let 'em be happy with just one person 'cause if they're with a girl they'll always wanna be with a guy, too, kinda thing? Like I couldn't possibly be with just her. An' I kinda slowly kept givin' way on things 'cause I did...love her so much an' thought if I could just prove t'her... 'Cause her family life had been what it had, that someone /could/ do that for her. That it'd be just this /one/ more thing for now an’ it'd all get better an' /she'd/ be better for it. An' she /did/ love me so hard, which was almost the problem. She got so possessively needy.” Micah draws one of those long, slow breaths that precedes talking about harder topics. “She started gettin' outta hand with things. I'd be talkin' t'someone from a group for a class project or somethin' an' she'd just get convinced it was somethin' else. I think she tried /so hard/ not t'be her mom she swung it 'round the other way, started actin' more like the people her mom had been with. Actually raised her hand t'me on several occasions, but... Nothin' came of it. I was bigger'n stronger than her. Admittedly not by much,” he adds wryly. “So if she ever tried anythin' I could just...hold her. I never really /thought/ she'd actually hurt me, neither. An' we'd talk it out an' she'd apologise profusely an' just...cry an' make promise on promise it'd never happen again until it did. I wanted her t'get help but she had this wicked distrust of psychologists an' didn't...I don't think she ever saw what was wrong, so much. She was able t'talk her way 'round me so that it always...it all made sense an' it wasn't so bad as it sounds now.” "Yeah -- I mean, /any/ kinda relationship agreement's only gonna work if it's what /both/ folks is. Really comfortable with." Jax bites down on his lip, teeth worrying at a lip ring as Micah speaks. "Does sound kinda -- bad," he allows after all this. "An' I can see how easy it could be for you to -- you love people /so/ hard. An' s'one of the many things I love about you." He turns his head, pressing his lips to Micah's knuckles again. His eyes flick up to Micah's again before the next quiet question, "... what finally ended it?" Micah manages an almost-smile at the kiss, though this ends in more of a wince, eyes squeezing closed for a moment before answering that last question. “There was this party we went to. She'd met another guy she was interested in an' that was...startin' t'progress I guess, but. It was the first time we all ended up in the same place. He was one of these people who ain't good at boundaries. Kept sniffin' after me like 'cause /she/ was interested an' I was with her, we were a package deal or somethin' an' me not bein' interested in 'im wasn't allowed or I was just playin' hard to get or...I have no idea what he was thinkin', honestly, but he creeped me out. But all she was seein' was someone else too close an' touchy with me an' she started makin' a scene. So I managed t'get her off into a stairwell t'talk 'stead of makin' a mess of other folks' night, y'know? Tried t'tell her I didn't want nothin' t'do with 'im an' honestly would rather /she/ didn't either, way he acted. That didn't go over well, since it just convinced her that the two of us were gonna run off an' leave her an'... The argument got overheated an' she grabbed me by the wrist an' I guess was tryin' t'pull me closer t'her.” There's another pause, a slow breath, a hard swallow visible as it rolls down Micah's throat. “Prob'ly wouldn't've been nothin' if I weren't usin' crutches again just then. I was still workin' out a new prosthesis after that surgery an' m'balance wasn't great with it yet. An' y'can't just /pull/ somebody's arm when they're usin' it t'stay up that way. Crutch went forward with it an' I overbalanced /back/ an' down a whole flight of stairs. Sprained the wrist where she'd been grabbin' me an' was kinda beat up by it. S'bad enough tumblin' that far that hard, then add a whole bunch of metal in two crutches an' a prosthesis an'... Lots of bruises an' stitches in three places on top of the wrist, it was. Kind of a huge mess.” His teeth dig into his lower lip, holding tight through another long pause. “There was no way there weren't gonna be /questions/ after that...whole hospital visit. She was freakin' out an' I...told her only way I was gonna /not/ say just what'd happened was if she got help, not likin' psychologists or no. An' she actually /did/ after that. So I told people one of my crutch tips slipped on somethin', all just an accident, but. I couldn't really deal with her any more after that. Couldn't even tell you if she kept goin' after more than the first couple appointments she showed me.” Jax's fingers stay laced through Micah's, his breathing slowing through this story. His eye closes, slowly as well, his thumb dragging against the back of Micah's knuckles. "Oh." His voice is quiet, and at first he just kisses Micah's knuckles /again/. "Kind of a huge mess," he agrees eventually, "that's. So many kindsa not-okay, I." He pulls in a slower breath. "... t'was lotsa years ago." He says this quiet under his breath almost as though reminding /himself/ to quell protective urges. Instead he just lifts his other hand to rub at the back of Micah's neck, forehead tipping in to rest against his husband's. "/Was/ years ago." This time it's at more of a conversational level, though there's a little bit of questioning in his tone. "I mean, you ain't college-you no more. But -- jus' -- /do/ you think --" His teeth press down hard against his lip, brow scrunching tight together. "Yesterday with B you was sayin' you. Jus' got further-out boundaries than most people, I jus'. Don't mean it like implyin' you can't set your own boundaries, jus' -- if that ever /is/ somethin' you're havin' a problem with, would you -- talk t'me?" “Pretty much a whole decade,” Micah adds, fingers squeezing back against his husband's hand. “Was a real lotta young'n stupid goin' on there. But, honey, weren't never an issue of me not talkin'. Gracious, y'ain't never been able t'shut me up an' was the same then. It was...the way things got responded to. An' y'/wouldn't/ do anythin' like that. I love you an' you're /good/ t'me, okay?” Jax's other hand will find the muscles in the back of Micah's neck gone tense and bunched again, shoulders held forward and raised. There is hesitation in his posture before he speaks again. “I been pretty sensitive t'the whole...people gettin' jealous at all...thing. Ever since. B'lieve me, it's a thing I'd bring up if it... I mean, even with. It was part of what made that whole. Doug.” He shivers under the other man's touch. “All that kinda jealous comin' off 'im an' we weren't...a thing, even. An' I /did/ tell 'im how not okay that was. Not. That whole story, but that it wasn't okay. Just made me wonder if there's somethin' 'bout me that makes people... I dunno. Don't seem like a normal way t'act at a person an' I'd thought it was just Dani's...she had a lotta heavy stuff goin' on but maybe it's me, too?” Jax's fingers knead in firm against Micah's neck, sliding once more beneath the other man's collar. "I don't jus' mean with me. I mean, of /course/ I want y'to talk t'me about things /I'm/ doin' that make you uncomfortable. I jus' mean if. In general if /anybody's/ pushin' at your boundaries in a way that you maybe don't -- feel entire comfortable or equipped t'deal with on your own." His teeth finally leave off their abuse of his lower lip. "Oh, gosh. I don't know that -- ain't /nobody/ never /inviting/ abuse, jus' 'cuz you're a sweetheart ain't no call to." He draws in a slow breath, squeezing in at the back of Micah's neck in a steady pressure. "You take care'a people. An' I think there's always /gonna/ be some folks as -- need the most taking care /of/ who're also -- not equipped /themselves/ t'recognize people's boundaries proper, let alone respect them. An' that runs into ugly places when folks is happy t'have their needs took care /of/ without sparin' much thought for what it is /you/ need while givin' them that." “I know it's never somethin' that's /excused/, but B. Was sayin' ze thought that was somethin' that'd...ze didn't even know none of that.” Micah's shoulders tug up even further for a moment in a small shrug. “Pretty much said I was askin' for people t'hurt me, an'...even all of /you/ by extension. An' I don't...I'm not real sure what t'/do/ with that.” He chews at his lip thoughtfully, the movement adding something sullen to his expression. “Was implyin' that I was lettin' Neve hurt me, that she was doin' that. An'...I mean, it's been frustratin' as anythin' tryin' t'figure out what's goin' /on/ with her since she either don't got a real good grasp of the truth of her own story or ain't good at tellin' it. But I. As soon as I knew better I told her she had t'be honest with me 'cause it wasn't /right/ t'me or anybody I'd interact with an'. She said she'd fix it. T’tell the truth I ain't spoken t'her since outside of that meetin'.” "You told hir you'd keep a more careful eye on things an' bring it up with your therapist. I ain't sure there /is/ a lot more t'be done about it jus' at the moment, t'be honest. /You/ know what's goin' on in your head better'n anyone --" Though here a stray thought interrupts Jax briefly, eye ticking over towards Geekhaus with a fleeting shadowed look crossing his expression. He re-rails his thoughts with another gentle rub at Micah's neck. "You know your thoughts better'n we can an' if you feel like you're handlin' things okay --" He shrugs a shoulder, hand sliding up from Micah's hand to run against his husband's arm and then curl around behind the other man's back. "B said she was good with you promisin' t'keep an eye on it an'. An' if it ever /is/ somethin' you're strugglin' with you know we're gonna be here t'help you. But till then I don't -- see as there's much t'/do/ 'cept trust you t'know your own boundaries." “I just don't know. It don't feel /good/ thinkin' that there's somethin' 'bout me makin' me a target for folks. Or that...it's bad enough that B's afraid for hirself an' for you.” Micah curls up a little tighter, hugging his knees close to his chest. “An' I don't always just forgive people things. Even if they're friends, I don't. There's a... I wouldn't even bring it up but now I've got this /message/ on m'phone. From Trib. We was /friends/ back when I didn't know that he was the one. With Peter. An' we ain't anymore 'cause he still won't even... It's like he don't even /get/ why people are upset, much less feel like he should be tryin' t'do anythin' dif'rent or better? An'. He was talkin' at Lucien the other day when I was s'posed to meet him an' Matt for dinner. I couldn't not... He was actin' like me bein' uncomfortable was /unreasonable/ an' I kinda lit into 'im. An' now there's this /message/. Maybe I /am/ just invitin' people... I don't even know what t'do with this.” His fingers trace over the outline of the phone in his pocket. "Everything this family done been through, we're /always/ gonna be a target." Jax's nose wrinkles at this, sliding in to settle more alongside Micah and curl both his arms around the other man's hunched shoulders. "But bein' aware an' bein' careful, s'all you can -- an' you promised that already. I mean, B weren't entire /wrong/, y'could stand t'take care with folks as might take advantage of how much you care -- but B's young an' she's hurtin' an' she ain't /you/ an' when it comes t'it you're the only one as can make the final judgment on your own dealin's with folks. You --" Here he trails off, gaze slowly lowering to where Micah's fingers trace against pocket with a /baffled/ expression. "Wait wh -- what does /that/ man want from you?" Micah nods silently through Jax's answer. A blush rises in his cheeks at that last question, a look of /guilt/ going unspoken, like he's responsible for bringing the whole situation back on them again. That /his/ target has attracted the attention all over. Instead he fishes the phone out of his pocket, putting the voice mail on speaker to play. The message on Micah's phone is to the point, sort of. The voice is recognizable in its gruff rumble, and every now and then, there's a grinding of teeth that could almost be static. "Yeah, um. Micah. This is Trib. Jones. Uh...the guy your kids hate." There's a pause, and an audible inhalation of breath before he continues. "I still had the card you gave me. Took forever to find the goddamned thing. Can't find seem to find nothin' no more. Everything's gone to shit since - " There's that grinding noise, and Trib starts again. "Anyway. I been doin' some thinkin', and maybe I do owe them kids an apology. Not, y'know, 'cause I'm guilty of that or nothin', but I feel kind of shitty that hero kid is seein' a shrink over it." More grinding, although this is thoughtful and slow. "An' I wanna tell them kids I'm sorry, an' explain things." There's a silence long enough that it might force-end the call, only Trib speaks again, in a low rumble. "I ain't a bad guy. I ain't a /nice/ guy, but I ain't a bad guy." He coughs, then, and when he speaks, his voice is back to its usual brusqueness. "Anyway. You can call me at this number, an' let me know if that's somethin' you guys wanna do. Your terms." Click* The connection closes. At the guilty look Jax leans in, pressing his lips to Micah's temple in a firm kiss. His arm squeezes tighter, head dipping to rest his cheek on Micah's shoulder. Slowly his brows crease as the message plays. "Um." At first that's all he says. His eye fixes on the phone as though staring at it will prompt some further information. "Not 'cause he's guilty -- sorry an' explain --" He echoes these snippets with a slow push of exhale to follow. "This is like one of those 'I'm sorry you got offended' apologies, ain't it. He didn't do nothin' an' he wants t'explain -- s'got his 'I'm sorry, but...' all lined up ready t'go." His head turns, briefly nuzzling into Micah's neck and then returning to just resting on the other man's shoulder. "... s'up to the kids, I s'pose, what it is they want t'do with that but. I gotta admit, I don't feel /good/ about dumpin' that on B right now. S'kinda feelin' enough pressure already without tryin' to force her t'deal with /more/ abusive folks wantin' second chances." “It just. Feels like exactly what B was sayin'. Here's another person that's been hurtin' folks thinkin' /I'm/ the way t'go about makin' them feel better about it. Not. That they think they did wrong an' need t'make amends but that I'm the way t'give all their excuses an' get off the hook for it?” Micah leans in to the kisses and nuzzles, though he looks a little green around the gills at the implication and /timing/ of it all. “I'm not sanguine 'bout how that'd go if he did get t'talk to 'em. I would /not/ want 'em t'go alone. An'...I don't even like the idea of havin' any of 'em listen to that /message/. B's in...not a place t'deal with this. An' just hearin' that man's voice is like as not t'be triggery for Peter. Maybe...maybe Shane might be able t'handle listenin' to the message part. I just don't feel like I can /not/ let them know about this, though. It's possible that Peter might /want/ t'be able t'confront Trib for what he'd done, for all I know. Shouldn't be /my/ decision that he don't get to. But. Ugh. I hate t'put this in front of /any/ of 'em, considerin'.” "Could ask Peter if he's in a place t'listen to it, 'least. Give 'im a transcript if he don't want t'listen. I mean, or not, could be he jus' won't want /nothin'/ t'do with it -- but yeah. I'm with you on -- the not-alone an'. An' even in the /decidin'/ process feel like we could maybe be a buffer so much as possible." Jax is back to gnawing at his lip, tiny droplets of blood stippling it where he has torn chapped skin too hard. "But it can wait for right now anyway mebbe? Let at least this Neve stress calm a little before droppin' new bombs on them." He is slow to pull back, hand rubbing down Micah's back as his arms pull away. He rises slow as well, offering Micah a hand to help stand. "Feel like you're kinda on the stressy end too right now, though. I /did/ offer you a massage. Still could sneak one in 'fore finishin' up with dinner-cookin'. You look like y'might need a little relaxing before you find an appetite, anyway." Micah has moved on from lean to /slump/ meanwhile, pressed up against Jax with an air of exhaustion. “Yeah. Maybe that'd be an option, the transcript, if he's open to it. But. Waitin' sounds good. I could wait /forever/ t'put more of this stuff on 'em, but I guess. That's not /really/ an option.” He is forced to engage some of his own muscles for remaining upright once more when Jax pulls away. “Not exactly feelin' very much like food just this minute, no,” he admits as he takes his husband's hand, pulling ponderously to his feet. His head dips to push against Jax's shoulder. “Not gonna argue that plan. Love you, honey.” "Love you too, sir." Jax wraps his arm around Micah, kissing his husband's hair and running his fingers once more against the other man's back. "More stress can -- just wait.