ArchivedLogs:Taste In Men

Taste In Men
Dramatis Personae Elliott, Hive, Iolaus	2013-04-07 There should be more Elliott preceding this but I lost it. ALAS.
Location <NYC> Iolaus's Apartment - East Harlem
Down a hallway and overlooking a open air market in El Barrio, Iolaus' apartment is not particularly a large one. It is three rooms - the main room shaped like an L with kitchen at one end, a small bedroom large enough for a full bed and a dresser, and a bathroom barely large enough to fit the bath inside it. The walls are a light yellow in the main room, with a large bookcase sitting against one wall and occupying much of the space, stuffed with books as it is. Two couches sit across from it, pressed up against the corner of the L shaped room. The kitchen is separated only by the transition from wood floor to grey tile and is sparsely filled with food and cookware both, and the bathroom is equally sparse of accouterments. In fact, were it not for the full bookcase and the clothing hanging in the closet, it would look almost as if the occupant had moved out and left some few things behind in a hurry. Shelby has not been gone long - enough time for Iolaus to scrub out the blender, pan and plates, and for him to return to the couch. A laptop is balanced neatly on his knees, and his expression is annoyed. The click-clack of the keys is, perhaps, a little louder than is strictly necessary to get them to type, fingers flying over the field of letters underneath them. There's a rap on Iolaus's door. Rapraprap. It's curt and staccato-sharp in three quick knocks. The woman outside is considerably shorter than the men inside -- or, well, rendered so by the wheelchair she is sitting in. Elliott is plainly dressed, grey cargo pants, grey sweatshirt, black tee. Her hand rests on her knee as she waits for the door. Hive is behind her, slumped tiredly against a wall. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his shabby frayed jeans, and he is looking down at the floor. Waiting. Iolaus glances up at the door, but he makes no move to get the door. Daniel stands, though, and walks over to the door. He glances through the peephole and frowns, slightly. One hand moves to the papper-spray at his hip as he unlocks the door with a winding motion and opens the door. His eyes sweep up and down Hive, then the woman. A muscle twitches in his cheek, and he opens the door wider to let them in. "Doc. You've got guests." Iolaus stands up, placing his laptop aside. When he sees Hive at the door, he looks quite surprised indeed. "Oh! Come in, come in. I was just coming to see you later this afternoon, Hive." He turns and gives the woman a curious look, head tilting to one side. Daniel positions himself just a hair closer to Iolaus. "You lose this?" Elliott jerks a thumb towards Hive in his wallslump, a reflexive smile warming her expression at the door opening. "Found it outside, kinda lost." Hive stays slumped. His knuckles move up to rub his eyes. And then slump again. But he does turn his head, starting to struggle upright when the door opens. "Io. Yo." Casual. If tired. "Come in, sit, Hive." Iolaus says, gesturing to the inside of the apartment. His eyes look over the other man with some concern, though there is a trace of amusement in his mind. << It seems you may end up in my bed a second time, Hive. How does this keep happening? Go and sit down. There is a pancake left, if you want it. >> Iolaus steps forward past Hive, extending his hand to smile at Elliott. "It seems that I did. Thank you for retrieving him." He looks over her curiously. "And yet, it seems, you found your way. Do you live here?" A brief pause, and he extends his hand with a warm smile. "My name is Iolaus. It's good to meet you...?" "I know who you are, doctor." Elliott's smile is warm, easy, though there's a quiet internal colour to this. Mutielover. Racetraitor. She knows who he is. "Saw you on the news the other day. Kinda ballsy, yeah?" She reaches up to take his hand, shake if firmly. "Elliott. I live just there." She tips her head towards the door across the hallway from Iolaus "Just moved in. Nice to meet you. I won't keep you from your --" She glances to Hive. "Just wanted to make sure he got up safe, seemed kinda like he's having a shitty day." "Mrgh," is Hive's response to this. He drops a hand lazily to bop Elliott on the shoulder. "Thanks." His hand trails against the wall as he heads into Iolaus's apartment, giving Daniel a curt nod. He doesn't make it as far as the bed, dropping down to the couch in a boneless flop. "Believe me, it wasn't supposed to go like that." Iolaus says, sounding almost embarrassed. "But I wasn't about to let them cancel the permit as I was walking on stage." he says, brightly. "Yeah," he adds, glancing backwards in the direction that Hive went with a look of concern. "Don't know what's up with him, but I'll find out soon enough." << Find out why he isn't resting. >> "Thank you for your help, Elliott. Welcome to the neighborhood!" "Well. Seems like you had a good few people who weren't keen on letting them shut you down, either." Elliott's hands drop to her wheels, pushing her chair back and away towards the opposite door. "Thanks, doctor! Be seeing you around, I'm sure." And away she goes, the long distance home to her own apartment. Hive is on the couch. RESTING. Okay, mostly scrubbing his palm against his eye like he is trying to MASH it out. "You didn't get shot." He grumbles this. Like it /bothers/ him. Iolaus closes the door behind him but does not bother with the locks - Daniel steps in to complete what he has left behind, as he wanders over to the couch. "No, I didn't, sorry." << Does the light bother you, Hive? >> "Too busy getting arrested and hit with rocks, I guess. There's only so much a man can do." he says, stepping over to Hive and taking the other man's head gently in his hands, thumbs rubbing at his temples in soothing circles. << How does that feel? >> "I had money on that," Hive complains. "I mean, not even shot /at/, you're fucking slacking." He leans forward, slightly, when Iolaus starts rubbing at his head, pressing up into the touch with a shaky slow sigh. << /Fuck/ that's good. >> His voice is back to its usual -- a sharp whipcrack jolt of pain that slams into Iolaus's mind. "You didn't break ground." "Sorry to cost you the money." Iolaus says, smirking. He winces as the other man's voice tears into his mind, but he makes no sound. "Break ground? Not without you." Iolaus says, firmly. << Not that they were ready, but still. >> He leans down awkwardly over the other man, fingers pressing against the musculature of the other man's scalp, rubbing firmly and carefully over the muscles and nerves of his head. In his mind, he sees Hive's head in two ways - Hive, in front of him, and a superimposed image of the muscles, tendons, and nerves underneath, as if someone had removed all the skin from his head. Not the most attractive image, to be sure, but a help in guiding his massaging fingers. "Hot," is what Hive mutters, in answer to this mental image. But he is more than happy to take the massage, exhaling heavily as he relaxes under it. "Yeahsorry. About. Being indisposed." He's quiet a moment. "They said you signed off on -- I guess I kind of owe you. A lot." << Sorry. >> Iolaus says, and the double-image in his head vanishes. His massage is less precise, perhaps, but no less careful, measuring his accuracy by the expression on Hive's face. He bends down at the knees a little bit, trying to get comfortable in the awkward position. Only for a moment, before he is sitting next to Hive's chest, pressed up against him on the couch. This gives him some more leverage as the doctor dips his fingers down to rub behind Hive's ears, working the jaw muscles, before rising to Hive's temples once more. "I wish you had told us. We would have sponsored you right away, and you wouldn't have had to enjoy the accommodations of the state." "Wasn't criticizing. Feels great." Hive slumps a little, half back into the couch and half into Iolaus. His head tips slighlty forward, eyes closed and his breathing slowing. "Sorry." More quiet. "Didn't really think of -- I mean my visa /was/ fine and then I --" More quiet. He presses against Iolaus's fingers. "Was in their fucking cage for ever and it lapsed." "Ah." Iolaus comments, softly, voice neutral though a bright flash of anger spikes through him. "Well, we'll get it sorted, and you'll be on a better visa than before. The lawyers tell me that we can file for your permanent residency card as soon as the visa goes through all the way, and they'll help sort it out in court." he says. His hands move down to Hive's neck, rubbing the muscles along the back of his head, then down to his shoulders to press down into his skin and muscle. Hive doesn't answer. He just keeps his eyes closed, sinking further against Iolaus. << You work magic, >> he says eventually, whipcrack-hard yet again. << Anyone ever tell you you should be a doctor? >> A chuckle sounds deep inside Iolaus' chest. << No, nobody, ever. >> he replies, smoothly, smile spreading on his lips. He supports Hive as he continues to massage, fingers digging into his muscles as they work lower onto his shoulderblades, slipping under his arm, along his side, and up his spine in a smooth, meticulously careful movement. "Pretty much the fucking greatest boss, too. None of my other bosses ever gave massages." Hive is still just slumping. Tired. Even more disinclined to move the more massaging he gets. There's another long stretch of silence. Hive might be basking. Or he might have fallen asleep. Except then: "S'it been bad?" "Well, I try to be a good one." Iolaus says, smiling, as he lets his hands run slowly down Hive's spine, beginning to work on his lower back - with only a slight hesitation. "Not as much as you'd expect. All of our permits went through without any fight at all. Some clerk fell asleep at the wheel and just stamped the approved sign on it. Not going to complain." Iolaus says, softly. << The door to my apartment is made out of steel. >> Hive shivers, drawing in a slow breath. "Didn't mean the bureaucracy." He cracks his eyes open to look back over towards the door. His grunt at its thickness is quietly approving." "We're being careful. I don't go out much." Iolaus shrugs, digging his thumbs in deeper, along Hive's spine. "And when I do, we try to make sure that Alec is around to make it look like I'm not. My team is very good at their jobs, thankfully." "Kinda shitty. Not going out much. You should have a life." Hive's lips quirk up. "If you can afford them. Jobless bum." He leans forward, draped down down folded over his knees, shifting a little sideways towards Iolaus just in case the other man was tempted to stop his kneading. "Hear Jax joined that team. Not sure how to feel about that." Iolaus' hands slip down the other man's body then back up to continue their massage, this time with his fingers pressing against Hive's skin directly, rubbing the muscles out on his lower back. "He saved the mayor, and Norman Osborn. What, I'm not good enough to join the club?" he says, lightly, smile tugging at his lips. Beneath Iolaus's fingers, Hive tenses for a moment in mild surprise. It doesn't take long to relax again, though. His back is as bony as the rest of him, hard and sparse without much padding to it. "/Too/ good for that shitty club, he's like the official fucking douchebag guard." His head shakes, slightly, where it rests against his knees. He shrugs a shoulder. "Your team's good. He's good. Nobody's perfect though. Want you safe, sure. Want /him/ safe, too. Bodyguarding you isn't likely to /up/ his safety." "If it's any consolation, they're more likely to be aiming for /me/ than him." Iolaus says, that same amusement in his tone. His fingertips run up and down Hive's back once, pads of his fingers skimming over his skin and causing Hive's shirt to tug awkwardly as it is pulled to its limits, and as Iolaus begins massaging Hive's upper back. "So, perhaps, it will simply mean there is always a more inviting target around." << What am I, chopped liver? God, your muscles are tense. >> "Mngh." Hive lapses back into silence. His arms curl beneath his knees, posture staying bowed over his legs as Iolaus works at his back. << Weirdly enough, not much fucking consolation. Jackass. >> Out-loud words are apparently too difficult, now. "Jane says she doesn't expect much danger until the clinic actually gets close to opening." Iolaus says, fingers running over Hive's skin again in a way not strictly necessary to the massage. He seems to catch himself for, a moment later, fingers once more press into muscles. << Fuck. >> "Or special events. She is just doing things out of an abundance of caution." << If she wasn't so good, I'd think she was just being a bitch. >> << So I should hold things up long as possible. For your sake. >> Hive says this wryly, insofar as tone is noticable above the bludgeoning of his voice. << You can be good and a bitch. >> Slowly, reluctantly, he sits up, shifting under Iolaus's hand, leaning back against it as he rests back against the couch. His movements are slow, sluggish; when he turns his head it seems like a considerable effort just to look at Iolaus. << You OK? With -- I mean, you don't have to be doing -- this. >> He's sluggish, too, in tugging his shirt back down into place. << Ha. Ha. >> Iolaus gives Hive a smile and a tiny shake of his head. << Relax. Trust me, I very much don't mind. >> An image of him tugging Hive's shirt off floats rather annoyingly involuntarily to the front of his mind, though the good doctor quickly scrubs it out of his mind as his fingers continue nimbly working at Hive's shoulderblades. << Kinda what I'm afraid of. >> Not that Hive is moving /away/. Just lifting a hand, scuffing fingers through his too-shaggy hair. << Just came to talk about the clinic. Not to use you for your hands. >> << I promise not to strip you of your clothing and have my way with you. >> Iolaus says, bemusedly - though, certainly, this would not meet with /objections/ either. "What did you want to talk about, Hive?" he asks, fingers working gently down the other man's sides, fingers pressing and sliding. << Don't remember, >> Hive admits, tiredly. He's sinking back against Iolaus's side again. << Then just rest, Hive. >> Iolaus replies, softly, as he continues his work. Hive's eyes close again. He just -- rests. Iolaus' hands massage the other man for some time - tens of minutes, surely, before he gently withdraws his hands from the other man's skin. He steps up slowly from the couch, trying not to disturb the telepath, as he heads to grab himself a drink. Hive is quiet throughout this. Eyes closed. Nestling in against Iolaus, relaxing under the massaging. He might have fallen asleep. But he frowns when Iolaus finally moves away, and then shifts to lie down on the couch, eyes cracking open to watch Iolaus before he closes them again. After taking a long sip of water, Iolaus looks back at Hive, eyes first checking that the other man's are closed before he rakes them up and down the architect. A small smile pulls at his lips as he places the water glass down on the counter. << God, Shelby wasn't kidding. He really is fucking hot as hell. >> Hive's lips curl upwards. << Jeez, dude, you have shitty taste in men. >> << You're shitty taste? >> Iolaus says, as his cheeks burn, red. << I thought you were asleep. Go to sleep, Hive, before I make more of a fool of myself. >> << Well, sure, I'm fucking hot as hell. But I eat brains. /Pretty/ shitty taste. >> Hive's eyes are still closed. But his expression is amused. << So? I wasn't thinking of proposing, Hive. >> Iolaus' mind-voice is tinged with amusement. He walks over to the other couch and sits down, pulling his laptop over and giving Daniel a small smile before he turns his attention back to the screen. << I was thinking of rather more enjoyable things. >> << You marry me, I might could get my green card faster. >> Hive suggests this lightly. The amused smile hasn't faded from his expression. He shifts, resettles, getting comfortable on the couch. << Sorry, I think the only thing that marrying me will get is a good cut of the life insurance. I'm better off as your boss for the visa. >> Iolaus looks down at his screen, beginning to turn his attention back to his work - if just to keep more thoughts of just what he'd like to do to Hive out of his head. Silence. And then, << -- How much is the insurance policy? >> << I'm not marrying you, Hive. I might blow you - I might fuck you - but I'm not marrying you. >> Iolaus chastises. Hive snorts. And turns over onto his back, one arm draped across his eyes as he -- maaaaybe -- sleeps for real. Maybe still eavesdrops on Iolaus's thoughts. WHO KNOWS. Iolaus only has brief thoughts of these possibilities flitting through his head before the work in front of himself catches his attention, and his thoughts.