ArchivedLogs:Smells Like Family

Smells Like Family
Dramatis Personae Micah, Sebastian	2014-01-15 Though I really couldn't say what that would smell like, honestly. >_>
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. It's not long past dark in the evening, just late enough for Micah to have come home and taken a shower. He still has a towel draped over his shoulders, catching drips from damp hair, after having dressed in the bathroom. He wears a grey henley shirt under a TARDIS blue Doctor Hooves T-shirt, a pair of faded patchy jeans, and socks with little Pac Men chasing dots and ghosts and fruit around them. A mug of spiced pear flavoured white tea is still full and steaming where it rests curled in his hands, betraying that he has not been sitting for long. Rattlerattle. Quiet thunk. Sebastian manages to be kind of /timid/ even in unlocking the door, quieter still when he slips inside to shed his sneakers and hang his peacoat in the closet. He's dressed blandly, too; khakis and a grey henley shirt of his own, though he has no contrasting t-shirt over it. He has a messenger bag slung over his hip, heavy-laden with electronics that makes him lean slightly to one side to counterbalance its weight against his own insignificant one when he walks. Initially he beelines straightaway towards his room, but changes his mind and his course at the last minute to stop and head over towards Micah instead. "I talked to, um. To people. To -- work. People. If you want to --" His cheeks tint darker, eyes shifting downwards. "I mean if you were really interested in. Consulting. They might call you later this week." Micah is just scrunching himself further into the corner formed by the couch's arm and back, eyes fixed on the metal dragonfly resting on the end table, when the sounds of person-arrival come through the door. His mug finds a resting place behind the dragonfly as he turns. "Hey, hon. How was work?" His eyebrows loft at that news. "Oh, wow, so they actually might do this thing? It'll be amazin' t'actually get somethin' of the sort on the market. Thanks, honey. You want tea? Kettle will probably heat in no time; it ain't even cooled yet, I'm sure. Though it weren't really boilin' t'start this time." Sebastian settles down in front of the couch, unslinging his messenger bag from his shoulder to let that settle on the floor, too. He leans in towards the table, sniffing -- first at the mug of tea and then more /hungrily/ at the dragonfly, before leaning back to rest his head against the base of the couch beside Micah. "Really actually," he confirms. "It'll be neat. And also we'll pay you which is -- also neat." He tips his head back, large eyes fixing up on Micah. "I don't need tea. I don't think I earned any I kind of goofed off and looked at houses a lot at work. Some of the potential -- things. That Hive's been sending out to the list. What would /you/ put in a house?" "Y'ain't gotta /earn/ tea, honey. Y'could've sat in your room all day an' y'still get t'have tea. Sillyface." He taps the cup. "Y'can share some of mine if y'don't want your own cup, too." His shoulders rise and fall in a brief shrug. "Everybody takes a mental break at work sometimes. Figure y'make up for it by those times y'end up thinkin' about work on your off time or bringin' work home. All comes out in the wash." Finally, he lifts the mug to sip from it before setting it back on the table. "I'd wanna put in a sun room. For Jax t'sit in. Even in the winter. An' a real /big/ dinin' room for havin' bunches of people over, but still mostly open t'the kitchen so y'can connect it t'folks that are cookin' still. Space outside for gardens. Maybe a little fenced yard for Obie, an' for an /outside/ place where you an' Shane could go without worryin' about people...other than /underwater/, that is." "We have a conservatory at school. It's like gardens /and/ a sun room together? It's always warm. Maybe we could do that. Like a little -- greenhouse room." Sebastian tips forward when Micah sets the mug back down, dipping his head to thief a small sip of Micah's tea. He turns, afterwards, brows rumpled in a small frown. His knees pull towards his chest, arms curling around them and his chin resting on his knees. "That all sounds -- really great. Is any of that for /you/?" “Mmm, that sounds nice. What part of that /ain't/ for me? I cook an' garden an' play with Obie an' like sunlight an' bein' outside. /Also/ havin' plenty of places t'keep m'people in. Would have a window seat in at least one room, too. S'good for readin' an' knittin' an' daydreamin' in.” Micah's expression goes more pensive. “Now, if we were talkin' huge /shared/ space, co-housin'-wise? Folks already had all kindsa good ideas. A gamin' room. A workshop. An art studio. A library. A shared meetin' space and meal space. That'd be for quite the big group, t'do /alla/ those, though.” "I don't know, just. You always phrase things in terms of everyone else." Sebastian's eyes fix on Micah. He creeps a little bit closer, scooting an inch or so nearer the couch. "I think there'll be a lot of us. A lot of us /need/ it, anyway. And who wouldn't want a big workshop space?" Scoot. Scoot-creep. Just another inch closer. "Hive's been messed up in the head again." Quieter. "But -- but then maybe. Maybe you'll have -- all your people again. For keeping. Soon." “Guess when I think of what makes me happy it's...seein' the people I love bein' happy. An' bein' with 'em. So when I picture a place t'live I don't...imagine me just sittin' 'round in it. I picture what it'd be like with m'people in it.” At the slow scooting, Micah holds his arms out. As if to demonstrate that there is all this /space/ here. With no tiny sharkboy in it. “Messed up just...in that he's got a lotta folks in 'is head again, or worse? I can call Luci t'come help if it's worse.” "Just that." Sebastian's expression lights at the opening of arms, and he unfolds almost immediately to climb up onto the couch and tuck himself into Micah's lap. He curls an arm around Micah's waist, head nestling against shoulder. "But that's good, right? I mean. Maybe not -- good. For him. But good if." He doesn't say anything further than that, tensing a little uncomfortably and pressing his mouth against Micah's shirt to muffle further words. "So really your perfect house just has. Us in it." He sounds a little /skeptical/ of this idea, when he finally turns his head to speak again. Micah nods slowly. "Let me know if y'ever think it /is/ worse. He's...not so good at tellin' people when he needs help." His arms wrap readily around 'Bastian once he is situated. "Good t'be gettin' information. Good t'have a plan. Since so far ain't nobody or nothin' budgin' s'far as progress on the legal situation." One hand reaches up to scruff at the boy's hair. "It'd be a house where y'all could be happy." "I guess a lot of people around here have that problem." Bastian relaxes into the hug, eyes drifting closed. "A pond for sleeping," he says wistfully. "Desi has a pond." And then: "Plans are good. /I/ think when Dusk gets home we should play a Changeling game. Would you play in a Changeling game? I'd totally run one." A tiny hint of smile tugs at his lips. "See? Plans. Oh, plus I'm going to take you flying on Sugar. But only when it's warmer." "Entirely too true." Micah leans in to peck a kiss to 'Bastian's temple. "How big a pond would the two of you need t'pull that off comfortably?" he asks with a tone of sincere consideration. "We should. I mentioned the fact that there was faerie roleplayin' t'Jax once an' he said he'd /play/ that one. So we definitely should." His lips pull into their own lopsided grin. "Needs t'get warm already. Dusk's s'posed t'take me flyin', too. But he said the same thing 'bout it bein' miserable 'til it's warm out." The smile warms at the kiss, lingering as Bastian's arm tightens in a brief squeeze around Micah. "Just enough to curl up in. We're not big. I mean our wading pool was good it's just really annoying to change the water out of every day. Maybe if our bedroom had plumbing," he muses. "But water's /really/ heavy so it'd have to be built to accommodate --" He shrugs, cracking his eyes open to squint up at -- mostly the side of Micah's face. "If /Pa/ would play we should definitely do Changeling, he doesn't know anything about /anything/. Maybe Dusk would be better for flying." Though he doesn't sound /entirely/ certain here. "I mean Sugar's gorgeous. But -- then again I guess you kind of think Dusk is gorgeous too." "Prob'ly if we ended up with enough space for gardens an' yards, we could find a corner big enough for a pond for you two, then." Micah's arms wrap tighter in answer to 'Bastian's squeeze. "Said he would. Was a while ago, but still's kinda like somethin' he'd /like/ if he did tabletop RPGs." Micah's expression suddenly becomes extremely /skeptical/. "Pssht. Who has t'choose? I wanna do /both/. An' Dusk's pretty gorgeous no matter whose eyes you're lookin' with." This last comes with a light chuckle, the fingers settled in 'Bastian's hair giving another ruffle. "Though I do kind of -- wonder if we're going to. Grow. We're still really short but a lot of kids in our class are getting -- taller." Sebastian sounds rather worried about this possibility. His gills flutter open and closed as he butts his head up against Micah's ruffling fingers. His nose crinkles up, and he actually laughs at Micah's skeptical response. "He needs to shave. So badly. I don't even know what that is it's not a beard it's just a /mess/ stuck onto his face. Pa kind of grew out a mess of scruff back in November but there was an apocalypse, he had an /excuse/." "We /should/ prob'ly get y'all established over the Clinic for primary care anyhow. Could have 'em give y'all a best guess on it. I mean...they can tell about how much growth is left from X-rays on your typical person...if the growth plates are still open an' such. Sure they can figure it out for y'all, too. 'Least give a guess." Micah's hands move to stroke fingertips along 'Bastian's gills. "I dunno, I think it /suits/ 'im. S'a little scruffy. A lot /fuzzy/. An' kinda nice t'rub your cheek agai--" He cuts himself off as if suddenly remembering that he's talking /out loud/, said cheek taking on a light red blush. "Get us -- what like /doctors/?" Sebastian's eyes open wider; there's a sharper note of tension in his voice at this suggestion that is echoed in the tighter squeeze of his arm against Micah. "But I don't think we -- I mean I don't know if their X-rays would tell much about that /anyway/ we don't exactly have. Normal. Anything. I mean we don't exactly have /skeletons/. Not like people do anyway." He shrugs a shoulder uncomfortably. "But it is kind of scary. We're small now but I don't think -- cartilage would. Support us if we got much /bigger/." His gills settle back down under Micah's stroking, his breathing slowing. His mouth curls up into a tiny smile again. He lifts his head to geeently rub his cheek against Micah's. "Yeah-ok I can see how that'd be nicer. But he still just looks like a /mess/. I /guess/ his hair's not as bad as yours though." Sebastian reaches his free arm upwards, to muss at Micah's hair. "Wouldn't be an awful idea, honey. S'good t'have someone keep a baseline on you t'compare to if somethin' goes wrong, if nothin' else. An'...I mean, d'you kids get vaccinations or anythin'? Do they do all that at the school? You're gonna need t'transition your care away from the school eventually... When the two of you are ready. Just...eventually should." Micah's hands continue their steady gill-petting. "Maybe not X-rays. I dunno. They got folks there as know people. Sure they could consult in folks who know sharks? They'll work t'figure somethin' for you; it's their whole mission statement pretty much." The blush deepens at the little nuzzle-rasp. "He's just got more of it. But that's nice to..." This time he manages to trail off instead of continuing to verbalize all the thoughts that come with that. Conveniently, he was already reddening, even! "Yeah, we've been vaccinated for -- whatever things. We're supposed to be vaccinated for. Actually um, the labs were really good about keeping us up to date on that too," Sebastian admits with a small blush, nestling his head against Micah's shoulder again. "But I don't even really go to the school doctors any more than I /have/ to. Sometimes they make us but we're /always/ healthy." Sebastian breathes out a quietly happy sigh at the continued petting, absently nuzzling now just against Micah's shoulder. "Maybe they'll come back with big thick /beards/. And prison tats from all the guys they've shanked. Only Pa would probably mess it up and do, like, a really super /elegant/ -- stick-and-poke." "S'just good t'keep an eye on things, even if it's just once a year. I know it's a...stressful kinda thing for the two of you, but...necessary. At least we got good folks t'go to now." Micah giggles, eyes turning ceilingward at the prison talk. "Oh/gosh/, honey, remember who you're /talkin'/ about here. Ain't nobody...shankin' nothin'. An' y'know /either/ of 'em would know t'wait an' get their ink done right." He leaves off petting with just one hand, long enough to retrieve his tea for a sip. He offers the cup to 'Bastian before returning it to the table. Sebastian just wrinkles his nose at the further talk of doctors, exhaling sharply but not answering it further. Instead: "What, you can't just see it? Pa's little dove all ringed around with -- "make me a channel of your peace" -- and then a /second/ layer around that of all -- teardrops. For every man in there he's killed." Sebastian can't even make this conjecture without another giggle, muffled against Micah's shirt. "It seems totally likely. Or well /about/ as likely as him coming back with tattoos from the -- white supremacist prison gang he's probably joined. I hear they make you tattoo your /face/. -- OK admittedly he'd probably do /that/ just for fun." "I really can't," Micah returns with a headshake at the ridiculousness. "He has been complainin' about runnin' out of places t'/put/ more ink. Already had his next one planned, though." When his hand returns to 'Bastian's gills, it is warm from the tea mug. "What would y'think if it turned out I was a mutant, too?" he asks idly, eyes having caught the dragonfly /again/ as he sat the mug down. "He /might/ decide to be a white supremacist I mean like half his hometown is, you know? -- And yeah he's running out of skin-space but Ba and Ong say they'd disown him if he got /face/ tattoos so maybe he won't. Would /you/ still date him with face tattoos? He could be like that -- Zombie Boy." Bastian shivers at the touch of Micah's hands, though warm as the man's fingers are this is likely a /happy/ shiver and not a cold one. His head tilts, gills baring further to the petting. "I'd think -- the world is full of /incredibly/ bizarre coincidences. What -- what would /you/ think?" "Goodness, no, he mightn't, even. /Half/? That sounds...much." Micah laughs /outright/ at the question of dating. "Honey, we ain't even /datin'/ anymore, we're /married/. An' no, I wouldn't leave 'im over face tattoos. But I really /like/ 'is face an' wouldn't /want/ 'im coverin' it over any. 'Specially when he can just...illusion-face things when he feels like 'em." For a moment he is quiet, hands just stroking down gills over and again. "I don't know. Think it might be /inconvenient/ t'know from a perspective of me havin' the only...non-mutant privilege pass-card in the household. But I personally...wouldn't mind. It'd be odd t'figure a thing like that out this late in the game, though." He gives another amused little sound, like a brief hum. "Hive said I'm enough of a freak already so I don't need t'go addin' nothin'." "OK, only maybe a quarter are /actually/ white supremacists, all the rest are just sympathizers. You know his entire county is still actually considered a sundown town? -- I don't know what the difference is," Sebastian admits with an awkward blush. "Marriages still end. More -- paperwork?" After this he quiets, tucking his forehead beneath Micah's chin. He pulls back when Micah finishes speaking, studying his face thoughtfully. "I hope you're not a mutant." This is admitted quieter, almost guilty. "Like I really hope. A lot. Are you going to get tested?" "Marriages are more of a...formal commitment than just datin'." There's something slightly tight to Micah's voice as he says these words, yet at the same time hopeful. "You don't?" he asks, eyes searching 'Bastian's. "Oh, no, I'm not gonna. S'expensive an'," he pauses pointing to his ear before making a shushing gesture at his lips, "ain't got no reason to. S'just /hypothetical/." Sebastian lifts his head at the tightness in Micah's voice, pressing a kiss to his father's forehead. "He'll come back," he whispers, softly. "Maybe soon." He settles back down, eyes meeting Micah's as well, slowly growing wider in his narrow face. "I don't." His voice is still very small. "I want /better/ for you, you /deserve/ better. And all this stuff with Ba, that's. It's going to /pass/ and all this /hate/ is going to pass there's already starting to be /support/ mixed in with the -- death threats but that's only going to grow. But being a freak, that would stick with you /forever/. And you're too -- sweet. You need a happy life." Micah's eyes close briefly at the little kiss. "Hopefully soon," he echoes. "Oh, honey. If it /were/ true I could still have a happy life. You all can still have a happy life." He returns the kiss, one to each of 'Bastian's cheeks. "Jax is sweet. An' Spence is sweet. An' you an' Shane are sweet. An' I want you /all/ t'be happy. You /get/ t'be happy, honey." His arms squeeze tighter around 'Bastian's ribs. Sebastian's head turns just enough to let his eyes shift towards Hive's closed bedroom door. "Soon." He says it more firmly, this time. His eyes close at the twin kisses, a small shiver running up him again. His head shakes at Micah's affirmation, face dropping to press against the henley shirt. "I just don't want one more piece of terrible for you. We give you that enough already. I'm just -- going to keep hoping it was a fluke, OK? Or a miracle. Or a /faery/." Micah's head nods in agreement. His hands return to their petting when 'Bastian's head tips forward. "You do no such thing. Y'all don't give me no terrible. Y'give me love an' joy an' hope an' family." The faery comment earns a chuckle. "Well. Y'did say it smelled like Jax, so..." He grins, laughter still in his features though it isn't heard. "Love and joy and hope and family, /and/ terrible," Sebastian corrects, half amused and half kind of sad. He squeezes tighter, teeth biting down at Micah's shirt with a tiny rumble of growl. "It smells like family."