ArchivedLogs:Minding

Minding
Dramatis Personae Hive, Jax	2014-05-12 '
Location <NYC> Guerrilla Garden - Lower East Side
Situated on the lot directly adjacent to the distinctive sleek form of the Mendel Clinic, this space was once abandoned. The chainlink fence around it is still rusty, dilapidated, and the signs affixed to it still unwelcoming -- rusty as well, reading KEEP OUT, and PRIVATE PROPERTY. For those who venture into the slitted gap cut out of the fence, though, the yard within tells a different story. Neat and cleaned of any garbage and weeds, the once-abandoned lot has been rebuilt. Packing crates have been broken down for their wood to create raised beds full of rich soil, each bed neatly tilled and tended. Stakes label the different plants growing -- a wealth of vegetables growing three seasons of the year in the carefully tended soil. Around the edges of the lot, smaller beds have had brightly coloured flowers planted, lending even more cheer to the little hidden garden. Very eclectically mismatched seating has been brought in; old packing crates, chairs scavenged from curbs, though it's all been brightly painted. Late afternoon finds a day overcast but warm, an oppressively muggy feel to the overcast almost-evening. In the last of the sunlight Jax is outside, in sheer sleeveless black top and silver capris embroidered in black vines up the sides. He's rolled the capris up over his knees, taken off the chunky sneakers he was wearing with them to stay barefoot in one of the vegetable beds, where he's currently doing a little touching-up on weeding in between the rows of crops. "-- /seriously/ payin' someone to be your -- /meat/-puppet?" his voice is caught between amused and incredulous, pierced brows hiked upward. There's a sheen of sweat on his arms; he's been out here for a while, maybe. Hive has been out here for a while, too, though he's not being very helpful. He's slouched in the seat of his scooter sitting just beside the garden bed, a cup of coffee held in his hands. Dressed in his blue-painted hedgehog t-shirt, faded fraying jeans, he has a floppy tan bucket hat pulled down over his head, shading his eyes. "What. S'a job. I need to finish the Commons. Cheryl's had a shit time finding work what with the fur and all. I need a body that can actually do shit. Her body, my brain. S'a good arrangement. She can do everything needs doing when I'm --" "-- remote controlling?" Jax's nose wrinkles up, his head giving a small shake. He scoots to sit on the wooden edge of the vegetable bed he's working on, legs dangling down to its outside now to rest his feet on he ground. "I guess if that works for both of you. S'it /healthy/ for you, though, I mean, youre s'posed to be -- not -- doin' -- that. So much." "It's not so much." Hive frowns, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Just her. Business hours only. Comes by in the mornings to make the connection again. New labrats are all gone." He looks down at his coffee cup -- shaking badly in his unsteady grip -- and his shoulders tense somewhat. "Not -- /ideal/," he acknowledges. "But I'm getting this damn place done on time." "Sweetie, if it's gona hurt you --" Jax exhales heavily, and lifts an arm to rub his forearm against his bald head. "Ngh. Well. S'gotta be an /interestin'/ thing to put on a resume, huh. What d'you even call that position?" Hive shrugs one shoulder, quick and twitchy with a small snort. "Fff. /Personal assistant/. It's just --" He trails off, eyes fixed downwards. "Just --" He shakes his head at length, giving up on whatever this word is. "Been a world of fucking --" This stops, too. He finally takes a gulp of coffee, though some of it sloshes down over his fingers to drip onto his shirt. "... how's he doing." This is softer, gruffer, muttered into his cup. A quick smile curls across Jax's face with this, bright and wide. He moves down to the edge of the garden bed, perching on the wood and leaning forward to thump his head in against the side of Hive's leg. The smile fades, his breathing slowing as his thoughts cloud with concern. Thoughts of Dusk, wounds being tended in the Xavier's medbay, disappearing off to the woods afterwards. "Struggling," he answers Hive quietly. "Think s'gonna be a struggle for a bit. Could use you, maybe." "Always is, isn't it?" Hive lifts his hand to suck coffee off his fingers, dropping his hand after to rest on Jax's head. His fingertips curl inward, pressing in against the other man's skull. "... got Tola and Mel to think of," he answers uncomfortably. "And he's not -- exactly. Stable enough to --" "I know. I'm not -- I don't mean -- to /live/ with you or anything I just --" Jax's cheek nuzzles against Hive's leg, a brief quiet purr humming in his throat at the petting. "I think it's just. Better when he has. Just -- people -- to remind him that. I don't know, even if it's just a check in every --" He closes his eye, arm lifting to curl dirt-crusted hand around Hive's knee. "How's it going at home? With Mel? An' the little flower?" Here, at least, there's a lighter note to his thoughts, oppressive worry giving way to just a warmer care. "S'he just gonna stay there then? You guys have kids, too." Hive's fingers tontinue to rub in against Jax's skull, slow, though this eventually slackens as his touch grows weaker. It trails off into just shaky petting, rubbing down against the skin. "Oh. You know. Baby. Small. Lots of -- shit. Not a lot of sleep." Despite this there's a kind of stupid-happy smile that spreads across his face. "Stay? Oh gosh I don't know. I don't know what's his plans at all. I jus' -- want him safe, y'know?" Jax tips his face up towards Hive's, his own smile warm too. "Looks like you ain't minding that none too hard." Hive leans down, one hand braced against the handles of his scooter and the other still rubbing against Jax's head. He presses a small kiss to the top of the other man's head. "There's a lot of of fucked-up shit I mind losing sleep over." He stays bowed forward, head resting down against Jax's. "They're not even near the list. Go on. Finish your goddamn -- scrabbling in the. Dirt and you can come. See them." This thought lights Jax's smile again, quick and warm. He pushes back to his feet, pressing a kiss to Hive's knuckles. "S'gonna be so much dirt t'scrabble in at the new place," he answers happily. And with a small giggle as he returns to work, "... does Tola blossom /more/ if you plant her? Could have like a. Father-daughter. Installation. Tree an' flower." His mind is picturing a knobby twisted old tree rough and bent spreading branches protectively over a soft delicate expanse of white flowers. Hive's lips just twitch at this mental image. He rests a hand against his armrest, head dropping to settle in his cupped palm. << Finish your damn work, >> thuds sledgehammer-heavy into Jax's mind.